Rashmi's Space

“Mr. Desai?” Ananta looks up. “These are Ms. Kamath’s ornaments,” the nurse says, handing him two gold bangles, a gold chain, and a pair of pearl earrings. Ananta stands up and takes them, the way one would take back an offering from a priest at a temple. Then he sits back down on the bench he has been sitting on for some hours now. He looks down at Krishna’s ornaments. And keeps looking at them long after the nurse has turned and walked away.  How has it all come to this? It was only a few hours back that he had gone to Krishna’s house, late in the evening. He was hoping to talk some sense into her. He was looking forward to making her understand how thoughtless she was being in deciding to go away from him. He wanted to make her realise that she wasn't even understanding the seriousness of what she was about to do. And in the process, she was going to break her own heart too…how could she not see that? And so he had gone to Krishna’s house. But he ...

“What?” “Ananta…” “Have you gone mad Krishna? Do you know what you are saying?” “I am not happy about this either Ananta. But…it is the right thing to do.” “The right thing to do!” He spits out the words, turning away from her. Krishna purses her lips. She can see a vein pulsating at his temple. “And you have decided this?” he asks, still refusing to look at her. “All by yourself? I don’t get any say at all?” Krishna has known this was not going to be easy. Not after what she has told him today. But now she knows Ananta is never going to forgive her. “Ananta, please, don’t get angry…” “You don’t get to do this! Okay? You have no right!” He is livid. Speaking to the housekeeper has made Krishna realise how naïve she and Ananta were being. She has come to understand that what they were hoping for, is something that only works in movies, in fairy tales. Because in reality, the society never sees the good in anything. It always looks for the ne...

“ T ai , your tea is getting cold,” says Latabai, putting away her own cup of tea back on the tray. Krishna smiles and puts her almost full tea-cup to her lip. It is stone cold now. And tasteless. Although, the coldness of it has less to do with the tastelessness of it, than what Latabai sits talking about. The housekeeper came to see her late in the evening when Krishna was sitting on her porch wondering about the sudden change in the weather. The wind had picked up, leading her to think it may rain again, or at the very least, there would be a storm coming soon... making it difficult for Ananta and her to go for their walk tomorrow morning.  Now, she has made fresh tea, so the two women could sit and chat.    They have done this a few times when the housekeeper has had a few hours off from work. And while they aren’t exactly friends, Krishna likes the frankness and honesty of the housekeeper; and admires the fact that the woman doesn’t use her circu...

E arly morning sunrays streak in, making a beautiful pattern of prisms at the Goddess’s feet. The light catches on Krishna’s earrings throwing multiple little rainbows all around as she stands, her head bowed in prayer. She has never been overly religious, Krishna. The Gods or Goddesses, for her, have been the only ones with whom she could openly discuss her woes, her fears, draw motivation and gain hope from. So for her, prayer, is nothing but talking to the Goddess as if she stands opposite her. Listening to Krishna’s every word, with that serene smile on her face.   Thank you! She says now to the Goddess. Thank you for everything you have blessed me with. And my daughter too. Take care of her Mother. Since I am not there with her, now that she needs me most… Give her the strength, Mother. Be with her. And thank you Mother, for Ananta too. For giving me a friend in him like none other I have ever had. Thank you for smiling down on me from up there, real...

My social media feed overflows with #MeToo posts. The posts started trickling in since yesterday. And today, more people – maybe emboldened by seeing posts by their close friends, or fortified by the festive spirit (read: realising that this status update can easily be overwritten tomorrow with Diwali wishes) – have come out openly speaking up about their experiences. Comments, likes, outrage, statistics – there are innumerable responses to all that is being shared as part of this campaign. Enlightening, encouraging, harrowing, inspiring – the posts run the gamut. Many of my friends have put this up as their status. Several have gone ahead and shared their experiences. A lot, have even spoken about how someone in their family – a mother, a sister, a friend, an aunt – helped them cope and even stood up to the perpetrators in some cases. Quite a few, have mentioned instances where they had done so themselves, by calling out the perpetrators and asking help from authorities. ...

K rishna looks in the mirror and almost doesn’t recognise herself. A beautiful lady in her fifties in a plain grey silk saree stares back at her. She wears a string of pearls and matching pearl earrings. A radiant smile completes the picture; her favourite frozen ittar , dabbed just so on the underside of her wrists, leaving a beautiful fragrance around her. As she goes around the house switching off lights in the rooms and dimming the lights in the living room, she remembers the last time she got all dressed up – her daughter’s wedding day. Like that day, today too, her saree is new – a gift that arrived from her daughter this week as an apology for not being able to come down to visit her as promised. And while that hurts really badly, she cannot help but enjoy the rustle of the silk as it swishes around her when she walks.    Krishna has never been conventionally beautiful. And yet, she has always been attractive in a quiet, unpretentious way. And t...

“Thank you for sending out the parcel for me,” she says, taking the proffered receipt.  “It’s no problem. I was going to the Post Office anyway.” She nods. He smiles.   “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she asks. “When have I ever said no to tea?” he retorts, eyes twinkling. She smiles. Leads the way inside her house. He follows. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says over her shoulder. “I will get on with the tea.” As she sets the water boiling and puts out the milk to warm, she hears him walking around the living room. “Fresh flowers!” she hears him exclaim. “So, you do seem to have a green thumb, huh? Who knew!” She smiles at the boiling water. It is nice of him to notice and to comment on the tiny bunch of flowers from her garden that she has arranged in a small vase out on the table. “Well, who knew!” she says. And when she turns to get the sugar and tea out of the cupboard, she sees him standing at the entrance...

After three days of near continuous rain, today has dawned bright and glorious. The sun shines gently on the rain-washed, still dewy trees, and the birds sing a beautiful melody to welcome a brand new day. She sits on a rocker on the porch with a cup of coffee. In her lap is a book she has borrowed from the local library. But her mind is on the phone call she had with her daughter last night. Her confident, independent daughter, who is far, far away in another country. Her daughter, a doctor, who, at almost seven months pregnant, worries all the time about her mother. Which is why the girl has arranged to have a landline connection and a Wi-Fi connection installed here and sent her a smartphone. ‘I want to be able to talk to you anytime I want,’ her daughter says; ‘face to face’ .   Krishna is not much used to technology. But their calls make her daughter worry less; and in her present state, she wants her daughter to worry as less as possible. For what it’s worth, h...