On a Gloomy September Morning...

The God’s Own Country was bathed in the splendour of monsoon. The beautiful fields looked as fresh and green as ever against the grey, overcast sky. The occasional breeze which swept the fields carried with it the delightful scent of moist clay. Amid this picturesque setting stood a blue and white bus on the crudely laid country road. The bus marred the beauty of the landscape. Any pair of beauty loving eyes would have wanted the bus to clear off soon.Though not aesthetically inclined, Lakshmi seemed to want the same for she was going to stay with her daughter for a week and the gossip they would be exchanging during her brief sojourn brought a slight smile to her contented face. The fine lines of patience and care told that life has never been too easy a journey for Lakshmi.Her’s was a face which had experienced both- the heights of joy and depths of sorrow.

“Why doesn’t the driver hurry up?” she thought restlessly.

After what seemed like ages, the bus started with a jolt. Lakshmi settled comfortably in her seat and pushed aside the worn-out sheet of tarpaulin that hung at the bus-window. She loved the scenery that moved with her throughout the journey. A soft-snoring sound beside reminded her that she was traveling with her aging husband. She gave a deep sigh and turned towards the window. Now her eyes were not really admiring the handiwork of mother nature- her mind had unconsciously traveled back to the more charming past. The past that beheld Lakshmi as a young and beautiful woman just wedded to a handsome Excise Commissioner. She remembered the rambling house in which they had lived. It was located near the shimmering backwaters. She could never forget the romantic evenings she used to spend there with her husband watching the dusk gently steal over the striking landscape.

Five of her ten children were born in that house. ”Or was it six of them?” Lakshmi wondered, racking her memory which had begun to act funny these days. Her only regret at those times had been her friendlessness. The neighbouring bungalow remained unoccupied for a long while. Though home making and gardening took up most of her time, she longed for company. Like a bolt out of blue, on a fine January morning, Meenakshi moved in with her husband to that bungalow. Meenakshi was the Headmistress of S.M.V. Government High School. Lakshmi and Meena became fast friends, owing to attraction of the opposites. Lakshmi was housewifely and calm whereas Meena was independent and boisterous. This beautiful friendship flourished for quite a long time until both women touched their middle ages.

On a gloomy September morning, when the village had not yet woken up, Lakshmi received the unbelievable news of Meena’s death. She had passed away in her sleep. The doctors believed the cause of her death to be a massive heart attack. This shock was too much for Lakshmi, for she had not properly realized until her death, how much Meena’s friendship had meant to her. Somehow she could not associate something as grave and horrible as death with Meena, who was always a girl at heart, in spite of her dignified standing in life. Even at fifty five, Meena was as lighthearted and enthusiastic about life as any teenager. Lakshmi had confided in her once that she would beat her to heaven. Meena had always laughed off such sentimental non-sense, as she used to refer to such talks. To Meena, dressing up to the latest fashion trends had been as important as discharging her duties as the responsible H.M of S. M. V. Government High School. Even on the day before her death, Meena had scurried to her neighbour’s homestead to borrow a green-coloured ‘pottu’ from one of Lakshmi’s daughters. “It’d be ridiculous to wear a green silk sari without a matching pottu” She had remarked playfully. Meena was going to attend one of her student’s wedding that day.Lakshmi’s daughters had always enjoyed the visits of the breezy Meena 'Mami' as they used to address her fondly. It had been through the frolicsome daughters of Lakshmi that Meena kept a tab on the goings-on of the tinsel and fashion world. Indeed, when cooking and homemaking were a woman’s chief activities those days, Meena was an unholy exception. In short, Meena was an incurable non-conformist. She just LOVED life for all the joys it offered.

The bus came to an abrupt halt. So did Lakshmi’s train of thoughts. She uttered a huge sigh. The already rickety bus needed more attention from the driver. Lakshmi’s husband had gone somewhere."Probably to have a chat with the driver" Lakshmi thought. Somehow, she did not try to find out where. The rain had started to pour heavily. Only this time, it appeared to be the brewing of a threatening storm. A distant rumble of thunder made Lakshmi to pull the window close with the threadbare tarpaulin and chant the name of the Mahabharata warrior Prince Arjuna.

Then it happened as though like a dream. Someone from outside of the bus lifted the covers and Lakshmi beheld a middle-aged woman in a green sari. Just then, the rain-scented wind howled madly, sending a menacing chill down Lakshmi’s spine, making her shiver. The lady’s familiar face smiled wanly at her and her distant echo of a voice asked,” Hasn’t it been ages, Lakshmi? Lakshmi’s heart nearly stopped after thumping intensely for a few seconds. She could not find her voice. But with another clap of thunder, the familiar stranger pulled the covers down. Ashen faced, Lakshmi hastily lifted the covers with trembling fingers to see where she had gone. All she could now see was an old grey building in the distance bearing the letters S. M. V. Government High School. The rain poured in torrents blinding the view. Lakshmi’s husband hurried into the bus dripping. But she was too stunned for words and was not paying attention to him. Her face was still pale and she did not answer him when he asked what was wrong with her.

“Had it been a nightmarish dream? No. Definitely not! Everything was so surreal” thought Lakshmi. That voice still rang in her ears. It had echoed with melancholy; a melancholy of unfulfilled desires and shattered hopes. With a start, Lakshmi suddenly remembered that it was a gloomy September morning…

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This isn't a story in a real sense. It happened to my maternal granny (portrayed by Lakshmi ) way back in the late 1970s when I wasn't around.The actual place where this happened is in Kerala (Dhanuvechchapuram).My mom says you could still find the school there-though it has a different name.This incident has been something that's been passed on to the grandchildren during the cozy evenings of gala family get-togethers.We love it for the supernatural air it lends to our daily commonplace existence.This 'story' lost miserably in a short story contest.So it's back in my blog.