Sun tiptoes...

A strand of hair played right above her cheek. With her hands full of clay, she twitched her cheek to stop it. But it didn’t, and neither did the wind do any favours. It was a cloudy day and she wondered when she would finish with the modeling. She wished there would be sunlight for it to dry out. A small dimple dug at her cheek as she smiled.

It had been two years at her job now, and the mundane schedule was fast getting to her. She remembered how she had enjoyed taking long walks by herself in the leisure time. She would love doing that now too. Two years ago, as she sat on her desk, she smiled and was delighted at her achievements. But now, she no longer felt the passion. She no longer relented to fixing herself behind that desk.

It had not been an affluent childhood. She would go ahead and save her pocket money when all other students had delicious candies in school. She couldn’t ask her parents for more as she knew they were doing their best to provide for her. It made her sad to see them struggle through their jobs each morning and night, doing double shifts. She knew they would buy fruits, but just for her. She never saw her parents consume any dairy products but always insisted she finish her glass of milk.

She had duly returned them her respect and obedience. She had never been caught cheating in exams, or speaking deceitful lies, or sharing goodies with her classmates. They called her weird, but she never retorted. She thought that sharing the lovely eatables with her classmates would shame her parents about not being able to buy them for her. So she knew God had a share of things kept away for her, so why ask for more!

She had finished shaping the pot now. It was a small one with a wide mouth. She had already decided the colour scheme for it. Pottery was a way of connecting the peace within. Her parents had always been preoccupied with earning the basic money; she had never seen them do anything leisurely. There were no books in her house, or music records, or an occasional dance. There was hardly any time for small talk. All they asked her was about homework and school. Every academic term, it was about her grades. They had always told her about white collar jobs, and how she would be perfect for them.

She washed her hands and removed the cool clay from her hands. Carefully, she took the sharp thread and looped it over the pot. Slowly, removing it from the wheel, she put it at her window sill. Suddenly, drops of rain splattered hard on the open window. She quickly latched the window. The sky started to roar and got all dark. “Maybe it is your fate”, she said it aloud to the pot. She wasn’t sure if she believed in luck, but she surely believed in fate. Or maybe so because her parents had already written one for her. She could never refuse them or argue with them. She felt indebted, and however she tried, she couldn’t change the feeling.

One evening, her decided fate had been announced to her. “We think you should be a Charted Accountant. You grades are good and we think you should apply to the prestigious schools. Don’t worry about the fee, your Ma has taken a loan for the forms and I will be taking one when you get in. I hear CAs are paid really well in today’s times.” She had just nodded. She never felt victimized, not that day, not today. She took life as it came to her. One lesson was absolutely certain, her parents had never smiled much, and she was determined to be happy – no matter the circumstances, no matter her profession, no matter what future withheld.

She stared at her pot at the window. The clay was still wet and could be moulded in any way required. And when she would colour it, it would determine its identity. It could be a fiery red, a passionate pink or a cheery orange. She could also make it a cool blue or a classic black. It was all in her hands. Just like she had been moulded to join the corporate world. The year she had graduated, she had started paying off her debts and taken an apartment on a huge loan, one where her parents could live in peace. They had often told her how proud they were, and she had felt gratified for being their daughter.

But other emotions, she found them hard to find. Now she knew the meaning of passion. She had taken up pottery with great interest over a year ago and had gone ahead to make some beautiful pieces. She had been asked to display it for a pottery show by one of her neighbours, who happened to appreciate them in her small garden. There was another show coming up, and she had been invited.

The more she fell in love with pottery, the more she resisted the desk in office. She had been a cage bird all her life, and it was time she found her wings. She had thought about it several times, but the EMIs and the loan swirled like a dagger in front of her. The pot was beginning to fuse at a few places, just like her emotions. “I wish the sun comes out soon and clears my dilemma.”

It was easy in the movies, where they took decisions and things turned out well. Nor was her life made of any bestselling novel, where after churning out of troubles, she reached her destination. She just wanted to be happy, to love what she did and never regret it. But would it be fair to her parents, who slaved all their lives to get her the white collar job? Maybe she had to be Santa all her life – she had the gifts but would never be gifted anything.

She sat down to eat her lunch at the small dining table. As she stirred her spaghetti, memories of childhood captured her. On Avik’s birthday, his mother had come to school to distribute pastries to all children. Everyone had eaten and wished him, and asked for more. She had just smiled and never asked for more. But the presence of a pastry in her hands had been delightful. Instead of eating it, she had carefully packed it in her lunch box. Very proudly, she had gone home and waited impatiently for her parents to arrive. They would all share it as a family. She was determined to see them smile that day.

When her parents arrived, she just passed on her lunch box to her mother, like every other day, for her to inspect whether lunch had been finished. “What on earth do you have here?” “It’s a pastry Ma”, she had smiled. As she looked into the lunch box, she could sense a foul smell. The icing had melted and was floating in the box. “Don’t get such things to the house, it smells so bad, I will have a tough time cleaning it.” She never did it again.

She could see the rain from her window, so beautiful and yet so forceful. It reminded her of her only wish - to be happy. Pottery was her passion, and not a desk job. Life would go on and people would always have complaints, but she did not want to grow old and look back apologetically.

The pottery exhibition was three weeks from now. If she worked hard, she could have a good number of display pieces there. She went to her handbag and took out the resignation letter from its front pocket. She signed on it and put the date. As she looked up, she realized that the sky had cleared and sun was out. She opened the window and let the pot get its due warmth. And the first time in her life, she felt the beam of exhilaration she had always longed for.

Twin bonding...

I sat beside the phone, waiting endlessly for it to ring. I would have made the call myself, but they probably had not got a connection yet. I went to the balcony again and looked at the adjoining house. The grass was still green but had overgrown since yesterday. The door of the house still had the imprint of the nameplate as dust was urging forward to cover it. The garden seats looked dull and the parking space missed the grey Volvo sedan. The emptiness stretched all the way from the closed garage door to the terrace and the black cast iron gate.

My whole life had been about this neighborhood. Ever since I can remember, me and the twins used to ride our bicycles on the golf course road. As we approached the downhill slope, we used to let go of the pedals and the handle and let gravity win the race for us. Whoever lost used to buy the ice candies for the other two. Then we used to sit at the golf lawns and tear the grass apart till the keeper came and shooed us away.

School was just a mile away from our houses and we used to walk together each day. Arpita and Anandita always wore the same clothes as each other, the same shoes and even the same ribbons.  No one in school could tell them apart, but I always knew. Arpita had a smaller left eye and Anandita had a mark near her eyebrow. But even if my eyes were closed, I could tell from their voices.

They always got away with homework trouble, as they used to start blaming each other in class and start a huge fight. The teacher gave up after twenty minutes of shrieking and wailing. They had mastered the art when we were in first standard. But when they actually fought, they kicked off their shoes and messed with each other’s hair. But the best part was they never used to fight around me. I was the mediator, but secretly I thought I was the queen and they were my two clergies.

They hated their home food and always hopped into my house for dinner. They refused to go until their mother came and dragged them back. We were inseparable for life!

When we were twelve, we tried to drive their father’s car once. Arpi had got the key and we all slipped in together. “Press on the accelerator” “No, changed the gear first” “Oh god, put it in key at least” And she had pressed on the accelerator so hard that we had almost banged into the tree. We had been grounded for a week, no outing and no meeting each other. But in the afternoons I sneaked up to the terrace and climbed over to the terrace next door. Then I sneaked into their room and we all used to eat chips and fries. Those were some lovely afternoons.

I always knew we all would be separated when we had to go to college. Arpi wanted to do a course in Psycology and Anny and me were hell bent on becoming Engineers. We had decided the colleges which we would go to and charted out a plan how we all would meet once a week. We had made pacts on how we would write to each other every week if we went far away and how we would always buy 3 souvenirs from whichever place we were in so that we always had identical pieces from around the world.

And now, they had to leave so suddenly. Even before college started and even before we got our first dates together…

A month passed since they moved, and not even one call! Mom sat me down and explained to me an hour over how people forget and we remain just people they once knew. I did not want to agree, and I still kept waiting. School was not the same anymore and my life certainly wasn’t. I sat down to fill my college forms and I thought of them, I would still apply to the same places we had decided, no matter what. 

And as I went to the post office, little did I know a parcel awaited me. I opened my post box and in it was a blue envelope and a small box. In the box was a tiny replica of a bicycle and in the letter they had written – ‘We got three of these as soon as we reached here. You cannot imagine how much we miss you. Getting a telephone connection here is a nightmare; they say it will take another 3 weeks. We are going nuts here…why don’t you come down for a vacation? We will fill our college forms together. Come soon, as without you we will pull each other’s hair out. I had no idea Arpi was so annoying around you. I feel she is turning more devilish every day. Take care yaar, we miss you tonnes…’

A tear trickled my eye and made an impression on the envelope. As I walked home, I could sense how different life was going to be without them, but the essence was to keep them close to my heart, always! I looked at their house, where wild bushes had started growing now. The door was open, I stopped to look inside. A little girl rushed out screaming “I love the house. Let’s move in Mamma.” She turned around and smiled at me and I smiled back.