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A Break In The Pattern


The train stops. She looks around. It is a big station, large and open, nothing like the big city railway stations that she has seen. This station is surrounded by lush greenery as far as the eye can see. There is a chill in the air. And a sense of belonging. She breathes it in, deeply. 

She walks towards the end of the platform to the foot-overbridge that will take her out of the station. A few taxis and auto rickshaws are lined up near the exit, and she hires one at random. The driver helps her stow her one bag near her feet, while she sits to one side of the wide seat, as if she is sharing space with someone. Because she is used to taking up only so much space – always in a corner, trying not to make her presence felt. Now as she thinks this, she moves a little towards the centre of the seat, as if to affirm to herself that she is now travelling all by herself, for the first time in her life.

You wouldn’t really know it now, to look at her, but she is scared out of her wits! She has never ventured anywhere alone before this. And now, she is here, in a place that is only vaguely familiar. A place that is technically her birthplace, but it looks no more familiar than some exotic holiday location she has never visited before.

The auto rickshaw stops before a blue-walled house that she has come looking for. This too, should have been a familiar sight, but isn’t. Nor is the house next to it – a neat one story home, yellow now, with a brown trim; but which was white washed, with a red tiled roof when she was growing up in it. That house is barely visible through the ticket of trees from where she stands at the entrance gate of the blue-walled house. She cannot see it now, but she knows there is a well in the front yard of that house that serves as a source of water for both that house and this blue-walled one.   

On hearing the auto rickshaw, a middle-aged woman comes out of the blue-walled house and welcomes her warmly.

“Was the journey comfortable?” the woman asks.

“Yes, thank you,” she replies.

“Please come in,” the woman says. “I am Lata. I help around the house here. I will help you unpack.
You can freshen up in the bedroom at the back. There is an attached bathroom. Tea will be ready in ten minutes. Please make yourself comfortable.”

So, that was why she couldn’t place this woman. She is a maid! But then corrects herself. That is not what one would call them here. It would just be Latabai.

She is led through a neat home, via a passage that cuts straight through the middle of the house, to the back where a spacious bedroom is awaiting her. With large windows overlooking the back garden and the side of the house, the fresh air and bright light in the room immediately make her feel comfortable. Latabai begins unpacking her bag and gives her a fresh towel and a bar of soap, pointing out the bathroom door for her.

“Ummm…when will…” she begins to ask.

Dada has gone out to the post office. He will come in a little while. By the time you have your tea, he should be home.” Latabai smiles and heads off to the kitchen.




As she settles in the living room with a cup of tea, she walks around, looking at the small but neatly tended front yard, the shelves in the living room crammed with books; and finally goes to stand near a wall that has a lot of photographs on them. There are recent, colour ones and also some black & white ones. It is these black & white ones that interest her the most. She knows the people in these pictures. In fact, she is in a few of them!

Yes, there she is, with two pigtails hanging on either side of her face, looking seriously at the camera – a picture taken of her, with some other children in a studio. Then there is one picture of hers, with long, curly hair loose, eating a corn on the cob in a field. Standing next to her, is a boy, maybe a few years older than her, also eating corn on the cob. He is smiling widely at the camera, his eyes full of mischief.

She is looking at this picture, of pure, innocent joy, when she hears a sound behind her; and she feels a presence. A feeling so familiar, and yet, so far back in the past, that her breath catches at the mere memory!

She slowly turns around, and there he stands, all six feet of him. His hair has turned white, he stands holding a walking stick in hand, although, if he really depends on it she cannot tell, as he doesn’t lean on it. She cannot help thinking that he is barely recognisable, that she would indeed never have recognised him if she hadn’t been here, in his house, and looked at a few recent, colour photographs of him. And then he smiles.

And just like that, years drop from his face! He is, once again, the innocent, widely smiling boy in the picture with the corn on the cob!

She smiles back.

“You comfortable?” he asks.

“Yes. Thank you for putting up with me while…”

“It is no big deal, really,” he says. “I am glad you decided to come here.”

“I am glad I decided too. But the truth is, if that house next door…”

Your house.”

“Yes, if it hadn’t been available, I don’t really know if I would have come.”

“Then it is good I bought it when it came on the market and I was just looking for someone to rent it out, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

She just smiles.  

They chat for a long time, of old days and new. Of a shared childhood and adolescence that knew nothing but joy. And of a dangerous youth that could have been a completely different story if they had had their way. But her parents had found a match for her in the big city when he was barely even beginning a career; and things had just gone differently from there.  

They have a lot to catch up on. They have both come very far indeed from that unfulfilled young dream. They have both led their separate lives.

He has come to settle down here after his wife passed away some years ago. His children are abroad; and he has made good money, enough to have bought her childhood home which her brothers couldn’t maintain anymore and had put up on the market.  

She has separated from her husband finally; after years of justifying his emotional abuse; and is now trying to find her footing. Her daughter, bless her, has researched on her behalf and found her this place, in her own place of birth. Only, her daughter doesn’t know that the owner she has interacted with on Facebook on her mother’s behalf was him.




Long after dinner, she sits on the front porch with him, chatting, making plans of having her house cleaned up and moving in there. She doesn’t know what living here next to him, at this age, when they would both have their grandchildren visiting, is going to be like. She doesn’t know what she expects living in a place where she grew up, would be like.

All her life, she has been a wife, a mother; and even a grandmother. But now, she is going to be by herself. After a sheltered life, she is going to live on her own. At an age when most people begin to look forward to life’s sunset, she is looking forward to a life that is nothing like what she has known so far.

She is nervous. She is breaking the pattern. But she is also excited. She is looking forward to it. 


This is my entry for the Write Tribe's ProBlogger October 2017 Blogging Challenge.  
This story will be serialized in several parts for the duration of the Challenge. 
This is the first part. You can check out the next part in Part 2

Comments

  1. Wow! What a fabulous story. Felt like the scene unfolding infront of my eyes somewhere in Kerala ;) Not sure why that thought came but you did a great job on day 1, Rashmi. I am looking forward to read more here!

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    1. Thank you so much Parul :) I can totally understand why Kerala would come to mind with the lush greenery and all... Glad you liked the story and hope you find more interesting stuff here going forward

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  2. Entering a new situation in life, breaking away from the old pattern; destiny when demands it, try to see the beauty in it. Nicely written, I enjoyed reading it.

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    1. Thanks so much Prasannakumary :)
      Yes, positivity is very rare and needs to be nurtured, isn’t it?

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  3. I am glad she is breaking the pattern. Loved where the story ended or is it not over yet? Take it further and make them live it up on their terms.

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    1. That makes two of us Sulekha :)
      About the ending...I haven’t devided yet. Let’s see where the story wishes to go from here

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  4. Lovely story. I guess the story must continue. After so many years of playing different roles as a woman , she is bound to find happiness being herself.

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  5. I could so imagine every scene in this story.
    i am so glad she changed the pattern and began a hew life, all on her own.

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    1. Thank you Shilpa :)
      Am glad you liked the story. Hope you find something interesting to keep coming back.

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  6. Its a beautiful story. I loved it. Imagine, meeting your love again after years. Super Rashmi.

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    1. Thank you so much! And yes, that is a thought, isn’t it :)

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  7. Loved reading this one. You are a terrific writer. Could imagine the whole scenario here.

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    1. Thank you so much :)
      Really glad you enjoyed the story

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  8. Beautifully narrated Rashmi! You could feel the air around her completely. Lovely story :)

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  9. Oh I fell in love with your story. It made me feel all happy inside, for 'her', happy that she was finally living for herself - the way every woman should. Such beautiful narration.

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    1. Thank you so much Tulika :) Glad you liked the story...and hope you keep coming back for more

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  10. I loved this story especially for the narration and the perspective! Nicely written.

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  11. just love the narration, its beautiful.... finally she started thinking for herself...

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  12. Such a lovely story this is, Rashmi. Your words took me right to the scene. I am so glad that she is breaking the pattern and is living for herself. 😀

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    1. Thank you so much Vinitha :) Glad you loked the story.

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  13. Lovely story Rashmi ! Enjoyed reading it. And I love the way she broke the pattern. You have a way with words:)

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    1. Thank you so much Nupur! You are very kind :)

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  14. Sweet. More action would have quickened the pace though. Good detailed descriptions.

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  15. Beautiful story. She is going back to a familiar place but it represents change. Is this the first in a series of stories?

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    1. Thank you Alice! Yes, this is the first of a series continuing for the duration of the October Challenge. I wasn’t sure before. But then I went ahead and wrote the next chapter just now. Do check it out. Hope you like that too :)

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  16. Visited the first part after the second. The story kept me engaged. Looking forward to read the whole series!

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  17. Love how you've set this up. Very real.

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आईचा ब्रेक

मिस्टर सानेंनी हळू डोळे उघडले. खिडकीतून उन्हं येत होती. खाडकन जागे झाले. दुपार झाली कि काय! घड्याळ बघितल, हुश्श, आठच वाजतायेत! पण पुढच्याच क्षणी लक्षात आलं, आठ वाजले तरी किचन मधून काही आवाज येत नाहीयेत. आज तर गुरुवार, वर्किंग डे, एव्हाना किचन मधून आवाजच नव्हे तर तर-तर्हेचे वासही यायला हवेत. डबा तयार झाला असला पाहिजे, चहा तयार झाला आला पाहिजे. पण आज कसलीच हालचाल दिसत नाही! शेजारी पहिल तर मिसेस सानेही शेजारी नाहीत. काय भानगड आहे बुआ आज?   चष्मा चढवून मिस्टर साने बेडरूम मधून बाहेर आले. मिसेस सानेंचा घरात कुठेच पत्ता नव्हता! गेली कुठे  ही? मिस्टर सानेंनी सुनबाईंना विचारायच ठरवलं. पण श्वेता त्यांना कुठे दिसेना. इतक्यात, "गुडमॉर्निंग  बाबा!" म्हणत श्वेता जांभई देत बाहेर आली आणि त्यांच्या उत्तराची वाट न पाहता, तडक  "गुडमॉर्निंग आई" म्हणत किचन मध्ये गेली. मिस्टर साने तिला काही सांगणार इतक्यात,  "अहो बाबा, आई कुठेयत?" म्हणत पुन्हा बाहेर आली. एव्हाना तिची झोप पूर्णपणे उडाली होती. "माहित नाही बुआ, मला वाटलं तुला काही बोलली असेल..."   त्यांना वा

Love them or hate them....

"Behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is getting it all wrong", they say. True, parenting is a game of 'wait and watch.' There is no right or wrong here; or nothing that is a sure fire success mantra. Everyone has a different take on on how they wish to raise their young ones. And it is the choices that parents make that impact their children majorly. 

Of life lessons and listening to one’s heart - Mrs. B speaks

Small pleasures matter in life. Really small, everyday pleasures. Like, being able to smell the garden in full bloom on a hot summer day, or being able to have a hot water bath in cold weather. Or even being able to drink a hot cup of coffee first thing in the morning. Or, for that matter, being able to eat junk food to one’s heart’s content! Ah, bliss! Oh, I almost forgot, for those of you who haven’t met me before , myself, Mrs. Bhagirathi. The kids in my building call me Mrs. B. I am a housewife. Or better still – a homemaker. I work from home and generally spend time reading and surfing the internet when the kids and my husband are away for the day. I also cook and clean, and wash and iron clothes – but I guess all that is included in the title of “homemaker.” So no special mention needed. So, like I was saying, life is a sum total of small pleasures. And what I said about junk food, is absolutely true. Especially when you think of the cheeseburger. Or the veggie bur