The train journey was not even slightly similar to the ones in literature. It was afternoon. Heat and Humidity(a Kerala specialty) was bearing down on everybody in the cabin. There were none of that romantic wisps of white puffy smoke. It was a diesel train. Raghu was sitting near the window, looking outside in a forlorn manner. A beautiful young lady sitting opposite to him was reading a magazine with high levels of concentration. It also appeared to the onlooker that she had a firm intention of avoiding Raghu. What would not easily appear to the onlooker, was the fact that they were husband and wife. The Island Express would arrive at Kollam by around 3:00 pm.
"What do you mean by 'I resigned' ?" Isha asked. Her decibel levels were rising. " Who will pay the housing loan? We are hardly able to make ends meet in Bangalore. Vattaayo? Or did you win some lottery?"
"I got bored with my job."he replied calmly.
"Are you planning to join some other company?"
"No. I haven't decided what to do next."
She became hysterical. " You think life is some novel, don't you? Manushya, tell me one thing. Who will pay the loans now? Shall I have to feed you from my money? What are you going to tell amma?"
That was three weeks ago. Now, they were going to his native place in Kollam. His mom had invited them. He hadn't told his mom about the recent developments in his career life. Isha had taken a week's vacation even though they were barely on talking terms. And that he suspected was more because she loved his mom rather than anything else. Again, one of those typically anti-storyish saas-bahu relationship.And he knew who made it not so typical. Raghu smiled. His thoughts went back to his college days.
It was the second day of the college cultural fest. He along with Ani, had won the sports quiz for the home team. It had finished an hour ago. Both of them were in a jubilant mood. It had been a tight finish. And now, they were relaxing at the audi where the debating competition was going on. There was a rumour floating around that the home team consisted of a first year charakku, not much seen during the ragging sessions. A debating event which would otherwise have hardly any spectators, now had before it, a jam packed audi. The teams were coming in. Six of them. Twelve members each. Only two females. One of them was in churidar( And therefore could be ignored safely). But the other one. She had stolen the show even before she had reached the stage. Fair. Curly, bobbed hair. A nose ring. One single ear ring. An hour glass figure. She was wearing tees and three-fourths. It was an anathema. It was forbidden. And every male in the audience had made up his mind, who his first/next/last girlfriend in college life would be.
The train screeched to a halt at Karunagapally. His thoughts went to his recent act of rebellion with his career. He had quit a perfectly well paying job at TCS. But, terming it a rebellion would be a misnomer. He did not quit his job because he wanted to do something dashing with life. For instance, climbing Mt. Everest. Or, starting an NGO to help destitute children. He could not picture himself doing both of that. He wasn't the dashing kind. This was not literature for such things to happen. He quit the job because he was bored with it. It had become a torture. He did not want to take up the same line of work again. But, he had no clue as to what his next step would be. Even after three weeks. There was only one thing he knew for sure. He did not have any dreams of changing the world. He was not the dashing kind. Unlike her, he thought, as he noticed her alternating furiously between shooting dark glances at him and feigning ignorance.
It was the second day of the college cultural fest. He along with Ani, had won the sports quiz for the home team. It had finished an hour ago. Both of them were in a jubilant mood. It had been a tight finish. And now, they were relaxing at the audi where the debating competition was going on. There was a rumour floating around that the home team consisted of a first year charakku, not much seen during the ragging sessions. A debating event which would otherwise have hardly any spectators, now had before it, a jam packed audi. The teams were coming in. Six of them. Twelve members each. Only two females. One of them was in churidar( And therefore could be ignored safely). But the other one. She had stolen the show even before she had reached the stage. Fair. Curly, bobbed hair. A nose ring. One single ear ring. An hour glass figure. She was wearing tees and three-fourths. It was an anathema. It was forbidden. And every male in the audience had made up his mind, who his first/next/last girlfriend in college life would be.
The train screeched to a halt at Karunagapally. His thoughts went to his recent act of rebellion with his career. He had quit a perfectly well paying job at TCS. But, terming it a rebellion would be a misnomer. He did not quit his job because he wanted to do something dashing with life. For instance, climbing Mt. Everest. Or, starting an NGO to help destitute children. He could not picture himself doing both of that. He wasn't the dashing kind. This was not literature for such things to happen. He quit the job because he was bored with it. It had become a torture. He did not want to take up the same line of work again. But, he had no clue as to what his next step would be. Even after three weeks. There was only one thing he knew for sure. He did not have any dreams of changing the world. He was not the dashing kind. Unlike her, he thought, as he noticed her alternating furiously between shooting dark glances at him and feigning ignorance.
She was always the one who took the initiative. It started with friendship and then blossomed into something else. She dropped a bucket load of hints before he finally got the drift and proposed to her. And that itself was a very long drawn process. He almost made a fool of himself, before she cut it short and rescued both of them from public embarrassment. And, she had done it with her characteristic elegance. She would also be the one dragging him out of classes, behind the professor's back, to go watch a movie or take a walk in the park. She also took initiative for their first kiss. They were behind a bush in the park and he was worried about getting caught. So, he could only reach halfway and stay motionless with his quivering lips and his eyes darting everywhere else except her. Nobody in college understood the dynamics of their relationship. One of his batchmates put it across him succinctly. "Ithorumathiri pottanu lottery adicha pole aanallo." It was not a Mills n Boons romance.
They had arrived at Kollam. Amma was waiting at the station along with their servant. Isha got out, kept the suitcase on the platform and gave her a hug."Amma, enthundu?" She never called her ammayi. She hated the word and thought it was highly colloquial. "Prethekichu Onnumilleda. How long are you kids going to stay here?" Amma had been an English teacher and had only retired recently. Even after they retire, English teachers won't completely go back to Malayalam with their progeny. It will always be Manglish. "One week, Amma. We have both taken leave."Raghu replied. He could sense much darker stares being directed at him. "Nallathu. If you kids are not tired, innu rathri ashramam maidanathe pooram kaanaan pokaam." "Okay, amma."she replied.
The rest of the day went by in a jiffy, the timeline broken in between with the usual fiasco of amma trying to feed them more than they could eat for lunch and the various nosy neighbours visiting them to see whether Isha's stomach was showing any increase in its dimensions. He could never understand why people thought it was their business to ensure everybody had babies. It seemed more than just ridiculous. By around 6:00 pm, he, Isha and Amma took to Puthiyakavu Bhagawathy Ambalam and Asramam Maidanam in their old family car.
The festivities had begun by the time they reached there. Amma and Isha went inside the Bhagawathy Ambalam to take part in the procession which would initially circle the temple and come to the maidanam. He told them that he would wait near a couple of small makeshift shops in the maidanam. He did not have much faith in any religion. And Isha had it lesser than him. But, she loved pooram and such festivities. He could see the tuskers from where he stood. They were decorated with their nettipattom, separated into two groups and were getting ready for the kudamattom. It was steadily getting darker.
He struck up a casual conversation with one of the shop owners. " Onnu randu varshatinulil ividem orupaadu maari alle?" "Athe sir. Pakshe Pooram pazhaya pole thanne." He took a closer look at the wares in his shop. Among the many pottu, necklaces and valas, his eyes chanced upon a pair of jimmikki kammal. "How much?" "100, saare." He dug into his wallet. When you go even three weeks without a job, it usually shows on your wallet. People tend to splurge away the anxiety or the boredom. The effort hardly succeeds except for draining the wallet further. He hardly had much. But, he bought it anyway. He messaged Isha to come meet him. The chendamelam had already started. So, he gave her a miscall as well.
She came about ten minutes later. She was wearing a blue churidar. He had taken care to select something which matched with it. She came towards him and asked"What? Why did you call me here?" He smiled and took her hand. The furious look suddenly returned. "What are you doing?" That was a bit loud. And loud enough, to attract curious glances from passerbys. Malayalis loved watching live soap operas. He placed the pair of jimmikki kammal onto her palm and smiled. Her face softened a bit.
And then the creases returned. She lashed out at him. "You think a pair of earrings can make peace between us or make money grow and lessen our debts. Kayyil ollathum kuude kalla, buying all these stuff." She shoved the earrings onto his hand and walked back. It took some time for the dazed look to wear off Raghu's eyes. He looked at the pair of jimmikki kammal. At that inopportune moment, the vedikettu started. And the rockets flew into the sky, bursting into a glorious shower of lights. He gazed at that spectacular fiesta, the hallmark of all such festivities in Kerala and wondered to himself whether anything ever happens like what's written in literature.
He struck up a casual conversation with one of the shop owners. " Onnu randu varshatinulil ividem orupaadu maari alle?" "Athe sir. Pakshe Pooram pazhaya pole thanne." He took a closer look at the wares in his shop. Among the many pottu, necklaces and valas, his eyes chanced upon a pair of jimmikki kammal. "How much?" "100, saare." He dug into his wallet. When you go even three weeks without a job, it usually shows on your wallet. People tend to splurge away the anxiety or the boredom. The effort hardly succeeds except for draining the wallet further. He hardly had much. But, he bought it anyway. He messaged Isha to come meet him. The chendamelam had already started. So, he gave her a miscall as well.
She came about ten minutes later. She was wearing a blue churidar. He had taken care to select something which matched with it. She came towards him and asked"What? Why did you call me here?" He smiled and took her hand. The furious look suddenly returned. "What are you doing?" That was a bit loud. And loud enough, to attract curious glances from passerbys. Malayalis loved watching live soap operas. He placed the pair of jimmikki kammal onto her palm and smiled. Her face softened a bit.
And then the creases returned. She lashed out at him. "You think a pair of earrings can make peace between us or make money grow and lessen our debts. Kayyil ollathum kuude kalla, buying all these stuff." She shoved the earrings onto his hand and walked back. It took some time for the dazed look to wear off Raghu's eyes. He looked at the pair of jimmikki kammal. At that inopportune moment, the vedikettu started. And the rockets flew into the sky, bursting into a glorious shower of lights. He gazed at that spectacular fiesta, the hallmark of all such festivities in Kerala and wondered to himself whether anything ever happens like what's written in literature.
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