Rashmi's Space

Every house has a routine. Every family has a routine. The husband does a few things, the wife does a few; and the daily grind goes on, like clockwork. So long as everyone sticks to their jobs, and does them perfectly, things go right. Kids reach school on time, adults get to work on time, and all is right with the world. Of course, as simple as it sounds, it also sometimes gets monotonous with everyone just doing ‘the same old.’ And every once in a while, the thought does occur – what if, say, one day the husband did the cooking and the wife drove the kids to school? Wouldn’t it be great to just drive, with songs on, drop the kids, and on the way back, listen to one’s favourite songs? Ah, what a blissful hour that would be! What’s more, there would be hot breakfast ready, thanks to the husband who would have been busy in the kitchen while the wife was out driving and listening to songs – I mean, dropping the kids to school… And then, some days, the smooth clockwork ...

Note: This is Part 2 of a love story, the first part of which, you can read here ! The rain was coming down hard. Most shops had closed and people had disappeared indoors. The library, just a few blocks away, would’ve been a haven, if only she hadn’t left it! The few auto rickshaws standing near the pavement had already refused to take her home. And Simi stood shivering under a tree, clutching her backpack tightly.  There has to be a way out of this! “Hi!” Simi turned as a young man came rushing in from the rain to stand next to her under the tree. “Are you alone?” he asked, taking off the hood of his jacket. “Vivaan!” Simi was surprised, and pleased. “Yes!” he said, with that lopsided smile; “What are you doing here all alone? Come on over?” he asked, pointing to the direction of his home, Varsha’s home; that was just around the corner. Simi looked up nervously. That would be the best thing to do. Wait out the rain at Varsha’s home. She could...

“Everything alright, Sir?” Vivaan looked around the beautiful room bathed in the slanting rays of the evening sun. “It is perfect. Thank you,” he said to the concierge, giving him a generous tip, and closing the door behind his grinning back. “It is perfect.” Pia said from where she stood at the corner of the room, near a large window that led out into a spacious balcony.   Vivaan crossed the room in a few long strides and went to stand behind her. He held on to her waist, his shoulders bent, his head resting on her shoulder.   A soft breeze caressed Pia’s curls, as they relaxed against each other, taking in the view of the vast sea before them. The tall palm trees rustled in the fading light, warm, calming; the lithe waves, mesmerising. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Pia rested her head sideways on Vivaan’s. “Yes.” She breathed, hugging his hands tight around her waist. “I am really glad I am finally here…” Vivaan began in a whisper. “...

“What’s with the face?” Karan and Priya were going out to a formal dinner in about an hour. Priya was at the dressing table, twisting her hair this way and that, trying to get it to stay in place. Karan, who stood behind her fiddling with his tie, looked seriously at her reflection in the mirror. “I just found my first grey hair,” Priya said to his reflection, in dismay. “Welcome to the club!” Karan smiled at her reflection, caressing his grey-and-black, close-cropped beard. Though not much older than Priya in age, Karan had begun sporting grey hair for the past few years now. And proudly at that. Of course he had no idea of the hurt and dismay that Priya felt, having found that one stray grey! But to Priya, it was devastating. It meant that she was crossing over to the other side. At the back of her mind, she knew, that there would be a time when she would actually, proudly let her greys show. But that time wasn’t now. Not now when their children were st...

The alarm rings. I snooze it and go back to bed. The alarm rings again in ten minutes. This time, I stumble to the bathroom and splash water on my face mercilessly. It is a working day and no matter that the sky is still dark outside, we will all get late unless I start building up a storm in the kitchen soon! In the kitchen, I measure out coffee and sugar as I put the milk and water to boil. Then I bring my phone to the kitchen and start Sri Venkatesa Suprabhatam on my music app. As the notes of Kausalya Supraja … fill the silence of the morning in M S Subbalakshmi’s melodious voice, I pour out coffee in two mugs – regular coffee, less sugar, for myself; and a black coffee, normal sugar, for the husband. Taking the coffee back to the bedroom (well, the husband needs the whiff of coffee to rouse him out of bed), I cannot help but think how lovely it must be for Lord Venkatesa to wake up to the melodious hymns sung in his praise, telling him it is time for him to wake up and s...

Lata Mangeshkar…or was that Asha Bhonsle...? In a lot of these old songs they sounded so similar! Simi woke up, as usual, to melodious songs of the black and white era being played on the radio. With groggy eyes, she walked up to the kitchen and hugged Mai from behind. “Good morning,” she mumbled, nuzzling the side of her mother’s neck. “Woke up? Go brush your teeth quick, I’ll warm up the tea,” her mother said, caressing her cheek with a loving hand, while the other, cloaked in dough, rested in the wide plate in which she was mixing the atta for parathas. When Simi came back to the kitchen to pick her tea-cup, she saw her mother had kept another cup next to hers. “Who’s is that?” Simi asked. “Baba’s” her mother said, turning to her, smiling. “At home today?” Simi asked, her eyebrows raised. Her mother nodded soberly, while Simi gave a wide grin. “Dada’s going to freak out!” she said. And the mother and daughter giggled like the best friends they wer...

“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...