Kshama
Kshama peeked outside the auto and smiled as a water droplet fell on her face. It was raining, and she liked the smell of the earthy wet mud. The cool air played with her hair, gently kissing her face. As she chose songs to match the pleasant climate, she realized that it was essential to take charge wherever necessary. Today, she quit her job at the NGO Nyay-Samudhay and decided to be a freelance consultant. She had loved her job, working with Mitra, her boss, and the decision was quite a risk. It had shaken her a bit but also brought an unnerving sense of calm, and she knew she had done the right thing. That evening, she called Shyam, her boyfriend, to tell him about quitting her job. He seemed surprised but was supportive
"We will talk about it tomorrow. Anyhow you are coming home tomorrow, isn't it?" he said, sounding excited.
"Oh yes! I will be there? I am coming to your house for the first time. We will have lots to talk about."
''Yes and I hope we have some action too, and not just conversations," chimed Shyam with a smile in his voice.
"Oh! Okay, I will talk to you later," Kshama said and kept the call, with an irritated bang.
'Chime' she got a text after 20 minutes.
It was Shyam.
"I like bold and wild," read the message.
"Oh shit!" She thought?
That night, she couldn't sleep. She had been thinking so much, and it got tiring. Shyam's text message got her thinking and stressed again. Then, she ended up using her vibrator to ease her tension. The dopamine had worked its magic, and finally, she slept at 5 am. Kshama didn't know what to do in the morning. She was still feeling half-sleepy when she wokeup at 9. But she had to go to Shyam's house. He had been pretty excited about it, but she was worried. Neither was she wild nor bold, nor did she like the sex talk, before it happened. She was not sure why, but she didn't like the pre-talk. Was she not like every other girl? She didn't know about that. All that she knew was that she wanted to go to his house, have deep conversations and if the moment was good, they could take that step.
But now, the pre-talk and lack of sleep had got her tired and weary?
Kshama felt guilty but finally got the courage to take her phone. "Hey, can't make it today," she texted Shyam. "I didn't sleep the whole night, and I am half asleep even now,"
"Well, I am sorry if I said or did anything wrong, but yes, I am a bit sad about it, but it's fine," Shyam texted back.
"Okay, see you some other time" Kshama replied and tossed her phone away.
"Uff", she heaved a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge mountain had been lifted off her head. She seemed to feel like this quite often in the past few days. Leaving her work from an office job at the NGO relieved her; postponing the meeting with Shyam also eased her worry. She closed her eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep as she relaxed.
The sound of the wind and rain startled her. It was raining today, too.
Oh! It's already 4pm! How long did I sleep? A rumbling sound from her stomach which startled her cat, told her it was quite a while.
Kshama woke up with difficulty and dragged her legs to the kitchen to make tea.
The songs from the movie Pikustarted playing from her Bluetooth speakers, and Kshama felt refreshed. She added a dash of cinnamon to make the perfect elaichi tea that her aunt had taught her. The rain continued, and Kshama sat in her backyard with her glass of tea and music. It was as if the music fit aptly with the sound of rain and birds chirping. Within minutes, the sky had cleared up, and she was now face to face with the beaming sun. How quickly things change, she mused.
"Change is the only constant," her Dad had told her last week, when she visited them. It was as if the rain and the sun reminded her about it by their seamless shifting of roles across the vast sky.
The evening azaan playing from afar,
The chirping sound of birds flying home,
The stillness of the clouds in the evening sky,
Created an envelope of peace around me.
The breeze blowing softly, and the trees swaying gently,
I sat in my backyard mesmerized
Saying nothing, doing nothing
Just gazing above,
At this beauty, that's life
Ujala
Ujala was cutting vegetables for lunch. Mitra Madam was at home today and she wanted to make a sumptuous meal for her. Today, Madam could eat hot chapatis, unlike eating them cold at work every day, she thought happily.
Suddenly, she heard a cry from Mitra Madam's room. She contemplated if she should go and check and in turn, disturb her Madam. As the cries turned to moans, Ujala thought it would be prudent to check on her madam as this was unusual, and ran from the kitchen to her room.
On entering her room, she was shocked at what she saw. She assumed the worst, that madam was having a stroke. But, she soon realized that was not the case.
She saw thatMadam was using a pen-like tool and rubbing it on her private parts. She didn't know what the pen was but realized it was the reason for her moans. Ujala silently left the room.
She was stunned to see this side of Madam. She could not recall ever enjoying in this manner... Ever since Rakesh had disappeared, she had not even touched herself with love and care. She hated her body and thought that Rakesh had gone away because of her looks. Because one day he just left, and told her to not wait for him as he was fed up staying with her, and never came back.
But then she saw that Madam was happy, even without a man by her side. And, a small smile crept over her face as the image of Madam laughing and saying aah and yes came to her mind.
"Ujala, why are you smiling?" Ujala came out of her reverie. Madam was standing in front of her...
Mitra
Had Ujala heard her? Mitra wondered. Perhaps she should not have done it in the afternoon when Ujala cooked at home. But it was Saturday, and it was a long time since she had felt that need to pleasure herself like today. Work at her NGO had become way too hectic. She had to do all the heavy lifting for the past few days. Since Kshama, her senior communication associate, resigned, she has had to put in many more hours at the NGO.
And now, the way Ujala avoided her eyes, Mitra guessed that Ujala had heard and seen her in the room. She saw that Ujala was sweating slightly. It was then that a thought struck Mitra: had Ujala never pleasured herself or ever had sex after her husband had run away? Perhaps now is thetime to have an open conversation with her...
Kshama
Kshama sat on her bed, watching her cats who were playing, drinking water, eating, and just being. And she was doing the same. She loved the night. Her parents used to get concerned that she slept late, but she had been doing it since she was in school. So, she found it difficult to change and didn't want to. Doctors would say that it's unhealthy and warned that she may get depression again. But they didn't know that she was depressed and anxious because of the workload, uncertain deadlines, and undue pressure. And now, after quitting her stressful job and consulting only for a few hours, she had less money, but more time to 'just be.'
She realized now that the rat race which she had been part of since school created subservient citizens who would not question authority. The culture of working for 9 to 10 hours was ingrained in society, and people were scared to be otherwise. Even her previous workplace, Nyaay Samudaay, which worked for people's rights, ironically was not flexible about work timings. Perhaps her boss Mitra was old-school. And Kshama hoped that someday Mitra would see her point of view.
Mitra
Mitra held the cup of tea close to her cheek, feeling the warmth of hot tea. A soft smile crept on her face as she recalled her conversation with Ujala. Ujala was initially shy, but later, she became pretty curious about self-pleasure. In the end, Mitra had somehow convinced Ujala to see a YouTube video on self-pleasure by a sex-ed platform called Vitaminstree.
Ahh! The fact that she had taken so many things for granted because of privilege came to Mitra's mind. Solo living had taught her to be self-sufficient but she had forgotten that her househelp cum friend, Ujala, was so different than her. Ujala had experienced life with many struggles and had overcome them. And, this afternoon, Mitra saw that if Ujala ever had free time, she would just sit idle, lost in thoughts, and try to find something to do.
Mitra felt the need to improve Ujala's life. Perhaps take her to a park sometimes and eat Pani Puri, and anything else that Ujala wanted.
Chirp chirp!
Mitra looked up and spotted the birds flying back home. As she glanced below, she saw three street dogs playing in the makeshift garden that Ujala had created and watered daily. The garden used to make everyone, from animals to children, happy. Different passers-by would come and sit there sometimes. Mitra smiled to herself. She was looking at Ujala's life through her eyes. But Ujala was doing meaningful things in her way and perhaps was satisfied with that. Yet, she decided that she would take her out every week. After all, she was her friend, and friends should make time for each other, thought Mitra.
Her phone rang and Mitra perked up, as Kshama, her ex-employee and now part-time consultant's name, showed on her phone.
Ujala
Ujala now looked forward to every Friday evening. Why? She was not working in an organization awaiting the weekend, was she? For her, every day was a regular day. But, her Mitra madam had changed that. Madam would go with Ujala and do an activity that Ujala would choose through a chit. And, last week, she had chosen bowling. Ujala smiled as she recalled how she used to wait for that one light blue bowling ball that she could easily hold and smash the target bottles. Initially, she was not hitting the target. But she eventually figured it out, just asshe had figured out how to live, Ujala thought wistfully as memories of the past returned to her. It seemed like yesterday when her 18-year-old self had run away from her native home in the village. Ujala was thankful that her mother and brothers had finally left her and not chased her to Bangalore. The harassment and overwork at her home from a young age were enough for a lifetime of grief-filled memories, which Ujala was trying hard to forget.
Well, she should focus on today. Not dwell in the past. She still didn't know what to choose for tomorrow's exploration, as it was Friday. Oh right! This Friday, she was going on her first solo adventure of one-day Bangalore darshan, and Mitra madam was going to a movie. It was Mitra madam who suggested Ujala to go by herself and have fun because "it's important to treat oneself and do whatever one pleases."
Mitra
Mitra didn't know she would ever feel such strong emotions. And, right now, she felt the traffic jam calming. Listening to ghazals on her earphones, and the stillness of the traffic jam brought some calm to her overwhelming feelings. Sometimes, words are not enough to express what one feels. Watching today's film did bring some things up for her. She especially loved this line from the movie - 'Once you make a choice, it's yours even if you don't want it'. And another line about choice - 'Let her choose. Let it be her decision. You don't impose it on her' - from the movie came back to her.
It's strange, isn't it? Mitra thought to herself. This thing about choice? It is more complex than it seems. We like to choose and would not want anything or anyone to enforce decisions on us. But can we saythat to life? Life will decide when and what to implement and on whom.
The movie spoke about a woman whose mother was deteriorating on account of dementia. The nuances of the situation had been portrayed so beautifully. The film blurred the boundaries between right and wrong. And most importantly, the director did not make it into any one person's story. It depicted the story through the perspectives of multiple people. And that's life, isn't it? There is no one single narrative.
Even though she fought for the truth as a person working in the social sector, is there ever one truth? The scenes in the movie uncovered some unfettered wounds buried deep within Mitra. It just seemed like yesterday when she had taken the difficult decision of taking her mother to a care home. Her mother had passed away a few years later. The guilt would constantly nag her, but today, it was different. The last conversation between the mother and daughter on screen calmed Mitra. As the daughter asks her mother, do you know who I am? The mother replies, 'no,' holds her daughter's hand, and says, "but this is enough."
And that was when something shifted within Mitra. She realized that sometimes it is essential to let go. But who says we let go or have to let go completely? Hadn't she visited her mother every Sunday or sometimes alternative Sunday? Hadn't she enjoyed taking her mother to the terrace many times, where both she and her mother would just look at the evening pass by? And, even now, as she looked up from her car window, the sun was setting. She knew her mother's hands were holding her hand, and that was enough!
Kshama
Kshama wiped the sweat on her forehead. Uff! She hated sweating. But she couldn't help it;she was gifted with leaky sweat glands. And, she would start sweating at odd moments, leaving her embarrassed in the crowd.
Well, it's anxiety, some had said. Maybe it was, but how did her sweat glands know that she was anxious when she didn't? Nevertheless, she felt happy and rejuvenated after transferring the sweat to the handkerchief.
Looking at the maps and then at the location, she was thankful that she had finally reached the place of the concert. She liked doing things solo, but watching a show was missing from that list. She would want company at a concert. Unfortunately, she had not found a like-minded, music-loving soul to accompany her to music shows. She could have asked Shyam, but he was busy, and she was meeting him tomorrow at a cafe. Without thinking further, Kshama ventured inside.
She liked the place immediately. It was not like the pubs that hosted music shows. The new art space, Medai, focused only on the music, and people were seated without drinking or eating. Food and beverage were the main act at pubs, and the artists were the side actors. But music was given utmost importance here at Medai and other places like Lahe Lahe. And Kshama felt she was one with music and didn't need anyone besides her.
While coming back home from the concert, Kshama spotted a small girl holding an old man's hand, and walking on the street. Kshama smiled; it reminded her of her grandfather and her routine during her childhood. She would go to her grandparents' house during the weekend, and her grandmother would make her favorite french fries. She would have fun with her grandparents till evening when her mother or father would pick her up. A wistful smile crept on Kshama's face. Her grandparents hadbeen so important to her when she was young. But as she grew up, her grandmother became sick, and she had delusions and memory issues. Kshama had seen her father get very upset and sad by it. He would visit them every other evening, but Kshama had stopped going. She wished that she hadn't stopped and tried to understand her grandmother. If she had understood her, she might not have been so scared when she heard voices during her master's college summer break. Kshama started sweating again despite the cool wind in the auto.
Those memories of college 10 years ago were not good, but they would return to her unannounced, like an unwelcome guest.
Mitra
Mitra was looking forward to the day ahead. After a long time, she was going to meet her ex-employee, Kshama. Kshama had been working as a freelance consultant for Mitra for some time now. Kshama was a very different type of person. People would work hard to get a promotion at her stage, but Kshama had taken a break from her full-time role with Mitra and started working as a consultant. There was something different about her that Mitra found to be endearing.
'Mitra Ma'am, are you ready, shall we leave?', Ujala popped her head in. 'Oh no!' sighed Mitra. She had forgotten that today was Friday, her weekly day out with Ujala. She had double-booked her day. Kshama had called her to this three-day weekend art workshop organized by an institution called 'Kalashaala' in Jp Nagar. When Kshama told her that she wanted to try the art workshop to relax and unwind, Mitra quickly said that she would love to come. But now, it would not be suitable to cancel the evening with Ujala either. As Mitra pondered for a solution, she was struck byan idea. Why not take Ujala to the weekend workshop? Ujala could also enjoy a unique experience if she agreed to attend the workshop.
Kshama
Kshama looked at her mobile. It was getting late, and she was not getting an autorickshaw. The workshop would start at 10:30, and she wanted to be there by 10:00 am since she had asked Mitra to meet her outside Kalashaala.
Sweat droplets dripping down her face, she just ran into the auto, fearing being late. Memories of pre-university college, when she would be late and start sweating embarrassingly, came back to her. All her classmates would notice her, while the teacher would give an admonishing look before letting her in. Sometimes, she would not even be let inside.
Uff! Thinking about going late to college made her sweat even more. Looking at her face in the mirror, Kshama winced. She didn't want her boss, Mitra, to see her sweaty and tardy. She quickly wiped her face and prayed she would reach on time, closely monitoring Google Maps, as though tracking the app would relieve the traffic jam quicker and take her to her destination!
As the auto sped to her destination, the song - "Main Tere Liye Na Bani, Aur Mere Jaan Tu Mere Liye Na Bana," started playing on Spotify. And her thoughts took her back to Shyam. Yes, she was grieving for her love for Shyam. But she knew that she and Shyam would not be able to live with each other and so she had broken up with him the day before. But why was she suffering? She was grieving for that missing piece in her life, the piece that had known how to love others without preconditions, boundaries, and fear. The dream of unconditional love was somewhere lost.
Perhaps she will neverfind it. And it's okay to grieve it's death. Only then can she love with intention, for love is intentional and not accidental. It is an intended choice made every day by a person to love the people, animals, and the things that matter to them.
Lost in these thoughts, Kshama almost jumped when the auto guy asked her - 'Madam, is this the place?'
As she glimpsed outside, the words Kalaashala beamed at her. And inside was a vast expanse of greenery that welcomed her.
Ujala
Ujala looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror of the car, she smiled shyly. She had never been in such a big car. But today, next to Mitra Madam, she felt different. As she watched the kids playing on the road, her thoughts went back to a time at the farm in the village, when she would wave at the madams inside big cars. She had always been in awe of the people inside cars. She had thought they had everything. But now when she was in it, she realized other things. Their car had to wait longer in every traffic jam, unlike the two-wheelers and bicycles that whizzed past them easily. And by being with Mitra Madam, she knew madam was happy, but she did have her own struggles just like her...
Epilogue
The three women ventured into Kalashala with their apprehensions. "Oh, I am still anxious in crowded places", mumbled Kshama to herself. "Will people of my age be here", wondered Mitra. "Will I ever fit in with the upper class?" thought Ujala. A nervous smile adorned each of their faces, as the workshop manager gave them welcome drinks. Each of them, trying to embrace 'the dance of life', a journey that will be ongoing till their last breath.
Kshama peeked outside the auto and smiled as a water droplet fell on her face. It was raining, and she liked the smell of the earthy wet mud. The cool air played with her hair, gently kissing her face. As she chose songs to match the pleasant climate, she realized that it was essential to take charge wherever necessary. Today, she quit her job at the NGO Nyay-Samudhay and decided to be a freelance consultant. She had loved her job, working with Mitra, her boss, and the decision was quite a risk. It had shaken her a bit but also brought an unnerving sense of calm, and she knew she had done the right thing. That evening, she called Shyam, her boyfriend, to tell him about quitting her job. He seemed surprised but was supportive
"We will talk about it tomorrow. Anyhow you are coming home tomorrow, isn't it?" he said, sounding excited.
"Oh yes! I will be there? I am coming to your house for the first time. We will have lots to talk about."
''Yes and I hope we have some action too, and not just conversations," chimed Shyam with a smile in his voice.
"Oh! Okay, I will talk to you later," Kshama said and kept the call, with an irritated bang.
'Chime' she got a text after 20 minutes.
It was Shyam.
"I like bold and wild," read the message.
"Oh shit!" She thought?
That night, she couldn't sleep. She had been thinking so much, and it got tiring. Shyam's text message got her thinking and stressed again. Then, she ended up using her vibrator to ease her tension. The dopamine had worked its magic, and finally, she slept at 5 am. Kshama didn't know what to do in the morning. She was still feeling half-sleepy when she wokeup at 9. But she had to go to Shyam's house. He had been pretty excited about it, but she was worried. Neither was she wild nor bold, nor did she like the sex talk, before it happened. She was not sure why, but she didn't like the pre-talk. Was she not like every other girl? She didn't know about that. All that she knew was that she wanted to go to his house, have deep conversations and if the moment was good, they could take that step.
But now, the pre-talk and lack of sleep had got her tired and weary?
Kshama felt guilty but finally got the courage to take her phone. "Hey, can't make it today," she texted Shyam. "I didn't sleep the whole night, and I am half asleep even now,"
"Well, I am sorry if I said or did anything wrong, but yes, I am a bit sad about it, but it's fine," Shyam texted back.
"Okay, see you some other time" Kshama replied and tossed her phone away.
"Uff", she heaved a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge mountain had been lifted off her head. She seemed to feel like this quite often in the past few days. Leaving her work from an office job at the NGO relieved her; postponing the meeting with Shyam also eased her worry. She closed her eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep as she relaxed.
The sound of the wind and rain startled her. It was raining today, too.
Oh! It's already 4pm! How long did I sleep? A rumbling sound from her stomach which startled her cat, told her it was quite a while.
Kshama woke up with difficulty and dragged her legs to the kitchen to make tea.
The songs from the movie Pikustarted playing from her Bluetooth speakers, and Kshama felt refreshed. She added a dash of cinnamon to make the perfect elaichi tea that her aunt had taught her. The rain continued, and Kshama sat in her backyard with her glass of tea and music. It was as if the music fit aptly with the sound of rain and birds chirping. Within minutes, the sky had cleared up, and she was now face to face with the beaming sun. How quickly things change, she mused.
"Change is the only constant," her Dad had told her last week, when she visited them. It was as if the rain and the sun reminded her about it by their seamless shifting of roles across the vast sky.
The evening azaan playing from afar,
The chirping sound of birds flying home,
The stillness of the clouds in the evening sky,
Created an envelope of peace around me.
The breeze blowing softly, and the trees swaying gently,
I sat in my backyard mesmerized
Saying nothing, doing nothing
Just gazing above,
At this beauty, that's life
Ujala
Ujala was cutting vegetables for lunch. Mitra Madam was at home today and she wanted to make a sumptuous meal for her. Today, Madam could eat hot chapatis, unlike eating them cold at work every day, she thought happily.
Suddenly, she heard a cry from Mitra Madam's room. She contemplated if she should go and check and in turn, disturb her Madam. As the cries turned to moans, Ujala thought it would be prudent to check on her madam as this was unusual, and ran from the kitchen to her room.
On entering her room, she was shocked at what she saw. She assumed the worst, that madam was having a stroke. But, she soon realized that was not the case.
She saw thatMadam was using a pen-like tool and rubbing it on her private parts. She didn't know what the pen was but realized it was the reason for her moans. Ujala silently left the room.
She was stunned to see this side of Madam. She could not recall ever enjoying in this manner... Ever since Rakesh had disappeared, she had not even touched herself with love and care. She hated her body and thought that Rakesh had gone away because of her looks. Because one day he just left, and told her to not wait for him as he was fed up staying with her, and never came back.
But then she saw that Madam was happy, even without a man by her side. And, a small smile crept over her face as the image of Madam laughing and saying aah and yes came to her mind.
"Ujala, why are you smiling?" Ujala came out of her reverie. Madam was standing in front of her...
Mitra
Had Ujala heard her? Mitra wondered. Perhaps she should not have done it in the afternoon when Ujala cooked at home. But it was Saturday, and it was a long time since she had felt that need to pleasure herself like today. Work at her NGO had become way too hectic. She had to do all the heavy lifting for the past few days. Since Kshama, her senior communication associate, resigned, she has had to put in many more hours at the NGO.
And now, the way Ujala avoided her eyes, Mitra guessed that Ujala had heard and seen her in the room. She saw that Ujala was sweating slightly. It was then that a thought struck Mitra: had Ujala never pleasured herself or ever had sex after her husband had run away? Perhaps now is thetime to have an open conversation with her...
Kshama
Kshama sat on her bed, watching her cats who were playing, drinking water, eating, and just being. And she was doing the same. She loved the night. Her parents used to get concerned that she slept late, but she had been doing it since she was in school. So, she found it difficult to change and didn't want to. Doctors would say that it's unhealthy and warned that she may get depression again. But they didn't know that she was depressed and anxious because of the workload, uncertain deadlines, and undue pressure. And now, after quitting her stressful job and consulting only for a few hours, she had less money, but more time to 'just be.'
She realized now that the rat race which she had been part of since school created subservient citizens who would not question authority. The culture of working for 9 to 10 hours was ingrained in society, and people were scared to be otherwise. Even her previous workplace, Nyaay Samudaay, which worked for people's rights, ironically was not flexible about work timings. Perhaps her boss Mitra was old-school. And Kshama hoped that someday Mitra would see her point of view.
Mitra
Mitra held the cup of tea close to her cheek, feeling the warmth of hot tea. A soft smile crept on her face as she recalled her conversation with Ujala. Ujala was initially shy, but later, she became pretty curious about self-pleasure. In the end, Mitra had somehow convinced Ujala to see a YouTube video on self-pleasure by a sex-ed platform called Vitaminstree.
Ahh! The fact that she had taken so many things for granted because of privilege came to Mitra's mind. Solo living had taught her to be self-sufficient but she had forgotten that her househelp cum friend, Ujala, was so different than her. Ujala had experienced life with many struggles and had overcome them. And, this afternoon, Mitra saw that if Ujala ever had free time, she would just sit idle, lost in thoughts, and try to find something to do.
Mitra felt the need to improve Ujala's life. Perhaps take her to a park sometimes and eat Pani Puri, and anything else that Ujala wanted.
Chirp chirp!
Mitra looked up and spotted the birds flying back home. As she glanced below, she saw three street dogs playing in the makeshift garden that Ujala had created and watered daily. The garden used to make everyone, from animals to children, happy. Different passers-by would come and sit there sometimes. Mitra smiled to herself. She was looking at Ujala's life through her eyes. But Ujala was doing meaningful things in her way and perhaps was satisfied with that. Yet, she decided that she would take her out every week. After all, she was her friend, and friends should make time for each other, thought Mitra.
Her phone rang and Mitra perked up, as Kshama, her ex-employee and now part-time consultant's name, showed on her phone.
Ujala
Ujala now looked forward to every Friday evening. Why? She was not working in an organization awaiting the weekend, was she? For her, every day was a regular day. But, her Mitra madam had changed that. Madam would go with Ujala and do an activity that Ujala would choose through a chit. And, last week, she had chosen bowling. Ujala smiled as she recalled how she used to wait for that one light blue bowling ball that she could easily hold and smash the target bottles. Initially, she was not hitting the target. But she eventually figured it out, just asshe had figured out how to live, Ujala thought wistfully as memories of the past returned to her. It seemed like yesterday when her 18-year-old self had run away from her native home in the village. Ujala was thankful that her mother and brothers had finally left her and not chased her to Bangalore. The harassment and overwork at her home from a young age were enough for a lifetime of grief-filled memories, which Ujala was trying hard to forget.
Well, she should focus on today. Not dwell in the past. She still didn't know what to choose for tomorrow's exploration, as it was Friday. Oh right! This Friday, she was going on her first solo adventure of one-day Bangalore darshan, and Mitra madam was going to a movie. It was Mitra madam who suggested Ujala to go by herself and have fun because "it's important to treat oneself and do whatever one pleases."
Mitra
Mitra didn't know she would ever feel such strong emotions. And, right now, she felt the traffic jam calming. Listening to ghazals on her earphones, and the stillness of the traffic jam brought some calm to her overwhelming feelings. Sometimes, words are not enough to express what one feels. Watching today's film did bring some things up for her. She especially loved this line from the movie - 'Once you make a choice, it's yours even if you don't want it'. And another line about choice - 'Let her choose. Let it be her decision. You don't impose it on her' - from the movie came back to her.
It's strange, isn't it? Mitra thought to herself. This thing about choice? It is more complex than it seems. We like to choose and would not want anything or anyone to enforce decisions on us. But can we saythat to life? Life will decide when and what to implement and on whom.
The movie spoke about a woman whose mother was deteriorating on account of dementia. The nuances of the situation had been portrayed so beautifully. The film blurred the boundaries between right and wrong. And most importantly, the director did not make it into any one person's story. It depicted the story through the perspectives of multiple people. And that's life, isn't it? There is no one single narrative.
Even though she fought for the truth as a person working in the social sector, is there ever one truth? The scenes in the movie uncovered some unfettered wounds buried deep within Mitra. It just seemed like yesterday when she had taken the difficult decision of taking her mother to a care home. Her mother had passed away a few years later. The guilt would constantly nag her, but today, it was different. The last conversation between the mother and daughter on screen calmed Mitra. As the daughter asks her mother, do you know who I am? The mother replies, 'no,' holds her daughter's hand, and says, "but this is enough."
And that was when something shifted within Mitra. She realized that sometimes it is essential to let go. But who says we let go or have to let go completely? Hadn't she visited her mother every Sunday or sometimes alternative Sunday? Hadn't she enjoyed taking her mother to the terrace many times, where both she and her mother would just look at the evening pass by? And, even now, as she looked up from her car window, the sun was setting. She knew her mother's hands were holding her hand, and that was enough!
Kshama
Kshama wiped the sweat on her forehead. Uff! She hated sweating. But she couldn't help it;she was gifted with leaky sweat glands. And, she would start sweating at odd moments, leaving her embarrassed in the crowd.
Well, it's anxiety, some had said. Maybe it was, but how did her sweat glands know that she was anxious when she didn't? Nevertheless, she felt happy and rejuvenated after transferring the sweat to the handkerchief.
Looking at the maps and then at the location, she was thankful that she had finally reached the place of the concert. She liked doing things solo, but watching a show was missing from that list. She would want company at a concert. Unfortunately, she had not found a like-minded, music-loving soul to accompany her to music shows. She could have asked Shyam, but he was busy, and she was meeting him tomorrow at a cafe. Without thinking further, Kshama ventured inside.
She liked the place immediately. It was not like the pubs that hosted music shows. The new art space, Medai, focused only on the music, and people were seated without drinking or eating. Food and beverage were the main act at pubs, and the artists were the side actors. But music was given utmost importance here at Medai and other places like Lahe Lahe. And Kshama felt she was one with music and didn't need anyone besides her.
While coming back home from the concert, Kshama spotted a small girl holding an old man's hand, and walking on the street. Kshama smiled; it reminded her of her grandfather and her routine during her childhood. She would go to her grandparents' house during the weekend, and her grandmother would make her favorite french fries. She would have fun with her grandparents till evening when her mother or father would pick her up. A wistful smile crept on Kshama's face. Her grandparents hadbeen so important to her when she was young. But as she grew up, her grandmother became sick, and she had delusions and memory issues. Kshama had seen her father get very upset and sad by it. He would visit them every other evening, but Kshama had stopped going. She wished that she hadn't stopped and tried to understand her grandmother. If she had understood her, she might not have been so scared when she heard voices during her master's college summer break. Kshama started sweating again despite the cool wind in the auto.
Those memories of college 10 years ago were not good, but they would return to her unannounced, like an unwelcome guest.
Mitra
Mitra was looking forward to the day ahead. After a long time, she was going to meet her ex-employee, Kshama. Kshama had been working as a freelance consultant for Mitra for some time now. Kshama was a very different type of person. People would work hard to get a promotion at her stage, but Kshama had taken a break from her full-time role with Mitra and started working as a consultant. There was something different about her that Mitra found to be endearing.
'Mitra Ma'am, are you ready, shall we leave?', Ujala popped her head in. 'Oh no!' sighed Mitra. She had forgotten that today was Friday, her weekly day out with Ujala. She had double-booked her day. Kshama had called her to this three-day weekend art workshop organized by an institution called 'Kalashaala' in Jp Nagar. When Kshama told her that she wanted to try the art workshop to relax and unwind, Mitra quickly said that she would love to come. But now, it would not be suitable to cancel the evening with Ujala either. As Mitra pondered for a solution, she was struck byan idea. Why not take Ujala to the weekend workshop? Ujala could also enjoy a unique experience if she agreed to attend the workshop.
Kshama
Kshama looked at her mobile. It was getting late, and she was not getting an autorickshaw. The workshop would start at 10:30, and she wanted to be there by 10:00 am since she had asked Mitra to meet her outside Kalashaala.
Sweat droplets dripping down her face, she just ran into the auto, fearing being late. Memories of pre-university college, when she would be late and start sweating embarrassingly, came back to her. All her classmates would notice her, while the teacher would give an admonishing look before letting her in. Sometimes, she would not even be let inside.
Uff! Thinking about going late to college made her sweat even more. Looking at her face in the mirror, Kshama winced. She didn't want her boss, Mitra, to see her sweaty and tardy. She quickly wiped her face and prayed she would reach on time, closely monitoring Google Maps, as though tracking the app would relieve the traffic jam quicker and take her to her destination!
As the auto sped to her destination, the song - "Main Tere Liye Na Bani, Aur Mere Jaan Tu Mere Liye Na Bana," started playing on Spotify. And her thoughts took her back to Shyam. Yes, she was grieving for her love for Shyam. But she knew that she and Shyam would not be able to live with each other and so she had broken up with him the day before. But why was she suffering? She was grieving for that missing piece in her life, the piece that had known how to love others without preconditions, boundaries, and fear. The dream of unconditional love was somewhere lost.
Perhaps she will neverfind it. And it's okay to grieve it's death. Only then can she love with intention, for love is intentional and not accidental. It is an intended choice made every day by a person to love the people, animals, and the things that matter to them.
Lost in these thoughts, Kshama almost jumped when the auto guy asked her - 'Madam, is this the place?'
As she glimpsed outside, the words Kalaashala beamed at her. And inside was a vast expanse of greenery that welcomed her.
Ujala
Ujala looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror of the car, she smiled shyly. She had never been in such a big car. But today, next to Mitra Madam, she felt different. As she watched the kids playing on the road, her thoughts went back to a time at the farm in the village, when she would wave at the madams inside big cars. She had always been in awe of the people inside cars. She had thought they had everything. But now when she was in it, she realized other things. Their car had to wait longer in every traffic jam, unlike the two-wheelers and bicycles that whizzed past them easily. And by being with Mitra Madam, she knew madam was happy, but she did have her own struggles just like her...
Epilogue
The three women ventured into Kalashala with their apprehensions. "Oh, I am still anxious in crowded places", mumbled Kshama to herself. "Will people of my age be here", wondered Mitra. "Will I ever fit in with the upper class?" thought Ujala. A nervous smile adorned each of their faces, as the workshop manager gave them welcome drinks. Each of them, trying to embrace 'the dance of life', a journey that will be ongoing till their last breath.
Support Apoorva Ravi
