Here you go, my mom’s pakoda
It was almost 10 minutes since I have been waiting outside Lakshmi’s house. She had kept me waiting as usual. As I stood there on my cycle, styling my hair looking at the glass window of the car parked outside. I suddenly realized that I forgot my ID card. My house was a few blocks away. So I sped, reached home, picked up my ID card lying carelessly on the sofa. The name on it: ‘ Mohan Kumar ‘ had started to fade. I reached back to her place, to find her waiting with her hands on her hips. Her looks accused me for being late. But, both of us knew that we didn’t have time to argue and she hopped on to the front and we rushed to school. I had got so used to the smell of coconut oil from her neatly combed hair, that this smell was always brought panic and hurry in my mind even after so many years.
Our mothers knew each other, much before we met. They went to the same stitching class, and ended up talking more than stitching. I met Lakshmi on her first visit to our home along with her mother. She was very outspoken, and hence my reserved character did not become an obstacle to our progressive friendship.
The only time we were separate from each other, was during the classes. Recess time was a total chaos, mainly because of Rakesh and Soumya. All four of us spent most of our recess on the staircase towards the library. Lakshmi would open her tiffin box and would shove pakodas in to my mouth as if it was her birth right. She never forgot to mention a slogan every single day while doing it.
" Here you go, my mom’s pakoda "
College days followed. Nothing much happened. My cycle changed to a scooter. Now, she sat behind. I could no longer smell her coconut oil and yes, her mom’s pakodas remained. Like every other college student, we did everything except study. Our degree certificates were just laminated sheets of quality paper, we happened to get by chance.
We stepped into the corporate world. But not together this time. Corporate life separated us for a few years as we took up jobs in different cities. I was in Chennai and she was in Bangalore. Luckily mobile phones entered the market by then, and they helped us communicate through an hour long phone call, which had more of words and sentences from her end and just ’mm ‘ and ‘ oh ‘ from mine. We never dared to venture the mystical land of Love. That was the beauty of our friendship.
We tried hopping jobs to each other’s cities. But, nothing worked.
Marriage pressure kicked in and Lakshmi had to submit to it. She got married to a handsome, Mr. Roshan. Lakshmi had mentioned my name to him even on the day they met for the first time. With passing of time, all of us ended up in Bangalore. We could not meet up frequently because of the mismatch in our schedules. My bachelor life could hardly be called a schedule.
One day we were sitting at a café, when Roshan nudged Lakshmi and said, “ Why don’t we hook him up with a good girl. It is about time. Don’t you think so ? " Lakshmi looked at me with her eyes full of determination and before even I knew, Renuka stepped into my life. Events have been coupled up since then. Couple movie nights, couple dining, couple drinking and yes home visits. One Sunday, Lakshmi and Roshan visited our place. Lakshmi, holding out a packet, told me, “ Guess what, my mom has landed.
"Here you go, my mom’s pakoda".
I gave an awkward smile , which she hardly noticed.
Family life was an adventure with little members joining us. My son Varun was quite close to Lakshmi. He was totally impressed with her stories and ofcourse, the chocolates she brought along during her visits. For all we knew, Lakshmi and Roshan had differences of opinion, which is quite common in marriages. But, their’s led to an extreme step of separation. Lakshmi was a strong independent woman and raised her daughter with pride. Her daughter went on with her studies and flew to the U.S. to settle there eventually. Lakshmi was not convinced enough to move to the U.S. and so stayed here.
As retirement age was nearing, I started writing a book which was long pending. I found it really hard to get myself to sit and write.
One fine day, as I sat down to write, a message beeped on my phone. It was Lakshmi. “ My mom passed away. No more pakodas for you “. She never let go of humour even at times of sorrow. Or may be she used it to cover up her sorrow. I never knew.
I kept in touch with her quite often, so that she did not feel lonely at any point of time. My book was a success. And I owe it partly to her, because she used to help me get back to writing whenever I got symptoms of a writer’s block.
Guess who else was there at the book launch apart from the few guests I invited. Rakesh and Soumya. Well, they arrived as husband and wife. So, some of them did venture into the mystical land of Love after all. They waited till every other guests left. The five us, including Renuka sat on the stairs leading to the auditorium. We felt we were the same children occupying aged human bodies.
There were times when we did not keep in touch for months in a row. But, a quick phone call was enough to bridge the gap, no doubt. Meetings were rare, but Renuka and myself, we used to mention about Lakshmi every other day. We slowly got acquainted with the new trends in technology, smart phones, social media etc. Varun helped me out quite often, though he felt angry at times.
One day he mentioned : “ Acha, Lakshmi aunty is conducting a webinar for women entrepreneurs” . I replied : “ Wonderful . Whatsapp me the venue address, my boy”. I was showing off my adaptability to this new gizmo world. My boy replied : “ Acha, it is online, not a physical programme. “ I ignored him to cover up my shame.
I followed Lakshmi on all the available platforms and was happy to know that she was creating a positive impact on society. I kept sharing all posters and notifications of her webinars and sessions to whomever I knew and took the credit of it being a great act of our friendship. At times, I really doubted, is social media really connecting or distancing lives ?
After a long tiring day, I happened to doze off quite early. I got a phone call towards the middle of the night. It was Lakshmi’s daughter. She spoke to me with a trembling voice : “ Uncle, Mom passed away”. I couldn’t utter a word and sat upright on my bed. Renuka got up and enquired, upon hearing the news, she placed her hand on my shoulder as an attempt to console me.
As I turned, it was Varun’s hand resting on my shoulder. He asked me to join them for the rituals. I was at Lakshmi’s funeral. I stood there even after every one left. With a heavy heart and a lump in my throat. I whispered:
“ Lakshmi, I never got a chance to tell you this. But, your mom’s pakodas. They tasted awful. I never really liked them “.
And then I bursted to tears.
Trrrriiiiinnggggg, a phone rings. Lakshmi woke up startled. Oh. Was this all a dream ? It was still dark outside. She answered the call. It was Varun on the other end. He said : “ Dad passed away.“ Lakshmi sat numb with shock and grief. The play of emotions kept her motionless for quite some time.
The following morning she was at Mohan’s funeral. After the rituals were done, Lakshmi was the last one to leave. She placed a note at the site and left. It was a windy day, so the note tumbled and opened up.
It read like this : “ Those pakodas, Mohan. I didn’t like them either.“
It was almost 10 minutes since I have been waiting outside Lakshmi’s house. She had kept me waiting as usual. As I stood there on my cycle, styling my hair looking at the glass window of the car parked outside. I suddenly realized that I forgot my ID card. My house was a few blocks away. So I sped, reached home, picked up my ID card lying carelessly on the sofa. The name on it: ‘ Mohan Kumar ‘ had started to fade. I reached back to her place, to find her waiting with her hands on her hips. Her looks accused me for being late. But, both of us knew that we didn’t have time to argue and she hopped on to the front and we rushed to school. I had got so used to the smell of coconut oil from her neatly combed hair, that this smell was always brought panic and hurry in my mind even after so many years.
Our mothers knew each other, much before we met. They went to the same stitching class, and ended up talking more than stitching. I met Lakshmi on her first visit to our home along with her mother. She was very outspoken, and hence my reserved character did not become an obstacle to our progressive friendship.
The only time we were separate from each other, was during the classes. Recess time was a total chaos, mainly because of Rakesh and Soumya. All four of us spent most of our recess on the staircase towards the library. Lakshmi would open her tiffin box and would shove pakodas in to my mouth as if it was her birth right. She never forgot to mention a slogan every single day while doing it.
" Here you go, my mom’s pakoda "
College days followed. Nothing much happened. My cycle changed to a scooter. Now, she sat behind. I could no longer smell her coconut oil and yes, her mom’s pakodas remained. Like every other college student, we did everything except study. Our degree certificates were just laminated sheets of quality paper, we happened to get by chance.
We stepped into the corporate world. But not together this time. Corporate life separated us for a few years as we took up jobs in different cities. I was in Chennai and she was in Bangalore. Luckily mobile phones entered the market by then, and they helped us communicate through an hour long phone call, which had more of words and sentences from her end and just ’mm ‘ and ‘ oh ‘ from mine. We never dared to venture the mystical land of Love. That was the beauty of our friendship.
We tried hopping jobs to each other’s cities. But, nothing worked.
Marriage pressure kicked in and Lakshmi had to submit to it. She got married to a handsome, Mr. Roshan. Lakshmi had mentioned my name to him even on the day they met for the first time. With passing of time, all of us ended up in Bangalore. We could not meet up frequently because of the mismatch in our schedules. My bachelor life could hardly be called a schedule.
One day we were sitting at a café, when Roshan nudged Lakshmi and said, “ Why don’t we hook him up with a good girl. It is about time. Don’t you think so ? " Lakshmi looked at me with her eyes full of determination and before even I knew, Renuka stepped into my life. Events have been coupled up since then. Couple movie nights, couple dining, couple drinking and yes home visits. One Sunday, Lakshmi and Roshan visited our place. Lakshmi, holding out a packet, told me, “ Guess what, my mom has landed.
"Here you go, my mom’s pakoda".
I gave an awkward smile , which she hardly noticed.
Family life was an adventure with little members joining us. My son Varun was quite close to Lakshmi. He was totally impressed with her stories and ofcourse, the chocolates she brought along during her visits. For all we knew, Lakshmi and Roshan had differences of opinion, which is quite common in marriages. But, their’s led to an extreme step of separation. Lakshmi was a strong independent woman and raised her daughter with pride. Her daughter went on with her studies and flew to the U.S. to settle there eventually. Lakshmi was not convinced enough to move to the U.S. and so stayed here.
As retirement age was nearing, I started writing a book which was long pending. I found it really hard to get myself to sit and write.
One fine day, as I sat down to write, a message beeped on my phone. It was Lakshmi. “ My mom passed away. No more pakodas for you “. She never let go of humour even at times of sorrow. Or may be she used it to cover up her sorrow. I never knew.
I kept in touch with her quite often, so that she did not feel lonely at any point of time. My book was a success. And I owe it partly to her, because she used to help me get back to writing whenever I got symptoms of a writer’s block.
Guess who else was there at the book launch apart from the few guests I invited. Rakesh and Soumya. Well, they arrived as husband and wife. So, some of them did venture into the mystical land of Love after all. They waited till every other guests left. The five us, including Renuka sat on the stairs leading to the auditorium. We felt we were the same children occupying aged human bodies.
There were times when we did not keep in touch for months in a row. But, a quick phone call was enough to bridge the gap, no doubt. Meetings were rare, but Renuka and myself, we used to mention about Lakshmi every other day. We slowly got acquainted with the new trends in technology, smart phones, social media etc. Varun helped me out quite often, though he felt angry at times.
One day he mentioned : “ Acha, Lakshmi aunty is conducting a webinar for women entrepreneurs” . I replied : “ Wonderful . Whatsapp me the venue address, my boy”. I was showing off my adaptability to this new gizmo world. My boy replied : “ Acha, it is online, not a physical programme. “ I ignored him to cover up my shame.
I followed Lakshmi on all the available platforms and was happy to know that she was creating a positive impact on society. I kept sharing all posters and notifications of her webinars and sessions to whomever I knew and took the credit of it being a great act of our friendship. At times, I really doubted, is social media really connecting or distancing lives ?
After a long tiring day, I happened to doze off quite early. I got a phone call towards the middle of the night. It was Lakshmi’s daughter. She spoke to me with a trembling voice : “ Uncle, Mom passed away”. I couldn’t utter a word and sat upright on my bed. Renuka got up and enquired, upon hearing the news, she placed her hand on my shoulder as an attempt to console me.
As I turned, it was Varun’s hand resting on my shoulder. He asked me to join them for the rituals. I was at Lakshmi’s funeral. I stood there even after every one left. With a heavy heart and a lump in my throat. I whispered:
“ Lakshmi, I never got a chance to tell you this. But, your mom’s pakodas. They tasted awful. I never really liked them “.
And then I bursted to tears.
Trrrriiiiinnggggg, a phone rings. Lakshmi woke up startled. Oh. Was this all a dream ? It was still dark outside. She answered the call. It was Varun on the other end. He said : “ Dad passed away.“ Lakshmi sat numb with shock and grief. The play of emotions kept her motionless for quite some time.
The following morning she was at Mohan’s funeral. After the rituals were done, Lakshmi was the last one to leave. She placed a note at the site and left. It was a windy day, so the note tumbled and opened up.
It read like this : “ Those pakodas, Mohan. I didn’t like them either.“
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