The square

It was daunting to walk across that square in those first weeks. This square lay in the middle of the city, surrounded by a place of god, and behind the place of law. The gray imposing walls matched the gloomy, gray Irish skies more often than not. They grayness was a far cry from the crisp,warming months leading to sultry Indian summers that I had just left behind.  A sunless chill hit me every time I walked through this square. It was not as much the square, but that it led from a very broad, open streets to a series of alleys. At the first glance, it always felt like a dead end. Whenever I walked into this square, the street seemed to narrow in on me and the dark pubs and alleyways exiting the square made me feel even more claustrophobic. On most of those early days, backed with the weight of prejudice and typical Indian upbringing,  I could feel my body tense with anxiety of an impending attack by a wayward drunk. I would scurry along, in a hurry, to get out of there, reach wherever it was I was sleeping tonight, back to warmth and bright electric lights of my current AirBnB. Temporary accommodation days.

Two years, to this St. Paddy's day, I could remember my trip from India. My entire comfort zone was packed in my 23 Kilo suitcase. It felt heavier with the memories. Scared, determined for a new start I had left my life I had known and built over 30 odd years. I swiped and swiped through the old albums I had scanned in the days leading to my departure. It was a desperate, last minute attempt to pack all the memories of my entire life on the 15 GB free space provided by Google. Sadly, there is no storage for Amma's idli, cutney and kaai haalu (coconut milk side-dish, sweet and fragrant), or for Anna calling me "Putta (little one, I am 30+, but my dad still calls me that)! Putta!" every morning, or for the baby smell from my 3 month old nephew. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw and heavy cloud part and blue-green waters appear. Then, I saw the emerald island. Much of it is blur now, but not the friendly banter of the immigration officer. 

He asked -"How ye doin'?"

I almost blurted my entire life history and emotional health, surprised by his kindness to actually care about my well-being. I would learn over the years that this was very Irish, you are not expected to reply to the question at all, simply consider this as an exaggerated hello, and ask the same question back, and say - not too bad if you feel too energetic that day. 

Even before I even summarized my life history in an audible reply he went on.

"Oh! You here from India, are ye? Here for  much sunshine?"

I replied, despite my internal doubts that a wrong word here could send me back home, worst get me arrested! My sarcasm leaks out when I am nervous. Despite my best efforts, I heard my sarcasm replying.

"Ya... and I am here for sunshine & warmth for sure". 

We both laughed and I warmed up in my heart under the four warm layers for the first time since I had left home.

I was in Cork, Ireland. Walked out of nearly empty airport, saw nearly empty streets, swaying drunks here and there. Wondering if I was truly in the most drunk country in the whole world. No, it was just after Paddy's day parade. I was lucky I got a taxi! Irish flags were here and there. I tilted my head 90 degrees and saw Indian flag, felt a little relieved.

Slowly, warmed by the heater my kind AirBnB host had left on for hours expecting me, I realized I am finally in Ireland! Enthusiasm filled me, I looked into my little notebook where I listed all the things I wanted to do. Then, the fear of being in a new country with new culture took over. Over the next days, the enthusias­m would wax and wane in a battle with anxiety and fear. I would walk across the gray square on the way to work, coming across many strange faces, still unable to discern their features. Being an Indian woman,  I was trained in stranger-danger. I would stare down at every stranger, especially a man with laser-eyes. A warning look to not try funny business. Strangely I got a -" hello! how are ye! ", at times. I was left bewildered. Did I know them? Was I expected to answer to strangers? My instinct would blare out my mental alarm system - STRANGER-DANGER!! Do nothing! Do not engage! Do not look! Walk away as soon as you can!

Who would have predicted that I would come to love this Irish quirk of saying hello to all. You never knew if you were running into a cousin here.

Another Paddy's day is here, two years on. What changed between now and then is perhaps time, and me. Last Sunday, I found myself walking down the same gray square. There are far fewer people for a Sunday, thanks to the lock-down. I look up at the impressive church and the swanky Sunday crowd catching on local gossip after Sunday mass. On other days I see the neatly pressed suits and stylish dresses of the litigators out for a smoke behind the courthouse. I look ahead and invariably taste in my mouth the sweet, sour and nicely spicy, hot pad Thai from Malay Kitchen, closest thing to homemade rasam (spicy, tangy and sweet broth soup from South of India, very specific to each home). In one of those narrow streets sits my favorite charity shop, Irish cancer Society, showcasing all of my current fashion sensibilities. Many a winter nights have been spent in the cozy pub Raven, around the corner, with warm people having a bit of craic. On this Sunday, I find myself rejoicing the blooming daisies in the little garden of St. Francis church, on the corner of the square. On my previous trips in these two years, ever so often, I have run into a friend or the other, or made a new friend here. I have enquired of many a strangers on how they were doing, without expecting a reply. How very Cork-ian of me! 

I am going home this day. It is warm. Spring is here. Home, not an AirBnB, well lit and feels like my space. I see another face, fresh off the boat. Much like my two-year past self she is scurrying along this square, avoiding eye contact. She gave a sheepish smile of familiarity to me. I returned a big smile, knowing exactly what she was going through, having an imaginary conversation with her, telling her- "It's going to be fine. You are going to be fine. You are in Cork now. Give it a little time. It's all going to be grand."

[The opinions here are mine and mine only. I do not intend to offend anyone. This is not a reflection of any class of people. The writing here, is in good faith.]

Festive feasts

 

I could hear the plonks & clanks in the kitchen. It is the wee hours on Ganesh chaturthi - the festival of the elephant headed god with a bursting stomach. 

"Shree!" Amma is calling.

I sneak in deeper into my blanket. I am awake, but I just want to snooze.

"Shree! Wake up it is 6am already!"

"Argh! Why do I have to wake up at 6 am! Why do Indian gods have to have everything at sunrise." I protest from my bed. Arguing with Amma. Hoping my reluctance annoys her and she lets me be.

"Shree! You need to wake up before the pooja (prayers) start. Clean up, wash take a bath. Come help me out."

She never needs my help & I don't want to help, I wish my sister was never married, I would have another lazy soul to compete against.

Its 6:30. After a few more reminders I am up. Oiling my hair. Readying for a bath. There are rules. Dad is donning the silk panche (dhoti/ waist cloth) and a shalya (shawl). He looks handsome as ever. Mom is still in her nightdress, which has been transfor­med to the holy clothing which is clean & pure to cook the food for gods in. 

Mom hands me my new festival clothes. She keeps them with the ceremonial vermilion in the bathroom.

"Don't touch them till you have had a bath Shree!" She reminds me.

I am ready. I bow to the gods. I feel pretty. I am signed up as a solider and help dad and mom with odd jobs. Mostly dad. Mom has always been a one woman army.

Hunger is difficult to battle. It has been six hours since that sole glass of milk, a poor substitute for my daily breakfast. Why do Indian gods like hungry cranky devotees?

Ah well. I can smell the fried sweet stuffed flatbread. Now I see fresh fruits. So difficult to listen to dad chanting in Sanskrit all the glorious names of the god when all I want is a bite of all the food on offer to the gods placed inconviniently in front of me.

Dad says the last chants. Mom and I stand besides him looking perfect in our new festive clothes. We are missing my sister again. 

He blows the conch, sounds the bells and ends the prayers.

It is now time to feast.

The banana leaf is laid out. Mom serves everything. I am overwhelmed. An hour back I wanted it all. Now I am just too tired to eat. 

All that changes the minute the sweet payasam (rice pudding) touches my lips. I eat in the order I am taught. rice pudding, spiced rice, rice with lentils & ghee, the chickpeas and pomegranate salad, beans, fried papad followed by a generous serving of sweet stuffed flatbread with milk. The list goes on.

I cannot eat a morsel more.

Amma serves rice and curd on my banana leaf.

"No more! Amma!" I look pleadingly at my mother.

"Eat Shree. Today is festival." 

My protests are in vain.

Slowly, steadily, sometimes forcibly, I am done. I wash my hands & clean up after everyone reluctantly.

The banana leaves are in the bin.

I sit now, solidly, resonating with the overfed elephant headed god with my full, nearly bursting tummy. 

Thinking to myself, with satisfaction - the best feasts are the festive feasts.

Summer Mangoes

 I ran shouting -"wait for me! wait for me!"

Disappearing feet were all I could see.

Feeling the pebbles under my naked feet,

sweating, rushing in the sultry summer heat.

Panting I looked around. No one.

"Anna! Seetu! Anyone?" My heart sinking hoping for someone.

I would not cry, I am big now.

No. No! Amma will hit me, I have to hold my tears somehow.

I walked and walked to the lonely mango tree.

In my moment of privacy, I let my tears free.

Under the shade, a line of ants.

Up in the tree the sun enchants.

Thru my burning eyes, I see them bursting with life.

Green, a tint of yellow. Five for me, for them five.

Mouth is watering, Oh!  The joy!

They left me, so now, only I will enjoy.

The green one.. bitter skin, but the electrifying sourness!

Oh! I look back at that mango tree with a mischievous fondness.

Just perfect

 This was during the time we could be part of a crowd. That was a long time ago. I knew my life was perfect. The year would be perfect. 

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

After tonight...

Just the previous week, I had made it to my perfect job title with six figures on my part check. 

I had made it.

I was that guy, tall.. ok.. 5ft 6 is tall in a lot of Asian countries.. smart. 

My gold plated, 24 diamond watch that absorbed sunlight. My new red car with horse power to blow skirts off.

She was the one last important piece to my perfect life. She could manage everything. A perfect compliment and a trophy on my arms. She could write from our apartment if she still wanted to. There is no need for her to go to the shop. Very common job. Not needed once we get married.

She of course will say yes. Who could refuse me?

What a loss to all those exes who missed an opportunity in me. 

Look where I am now!

The clock was ticking. Everything was perfect. I was just waiting for the fireworks at midnight. I would ask her then with this badass diamond surrounded by platinum.

The moment came. She was not standing the way I would have liked her to, but it would have to do. No time to waste or the perfect moment will pass.

The fireworks started.

 I pulled her close to me and whispered in her ear - Honey! Will you marry me?

On cue! Perfect! Fireworks.. purple, pink, white, yellow and green. Shimmering in the diamond in my hand.

I was kneeling.

She would gasp and say yes!..

Any second now..

The tears didn't make sense.

She frowned. Looked right at me. Put her hand on her mouth.

Was she too surprised?!

She bent down and kissed my cheek. 

"Happy new year Mark! I am.. so.. sorry.. I guess we won't be seeing each other anymore.

I want to live my own life Mark. 

I hope you understand."

She walked away!

I still don't get it.. 

It should have been ... perfect.

A hug missed

    I never knew them before. If anything I ran away from them. It must have been the fear that I would expose myself if I indulged in them. There is always an armor, you see. And a hug would have pierced it.

    I was uncomfortable every time someone came too close. Was it my space, or was it my image that I was saving?

    Then, there was a period of chaos. All that was familiar seemed ghostly and all that was fresh was rotten. I struggled and struggled, to fix this decay. But like blight on an old oak, this had gone deep. My strength, my calm and what felt like my life was disappearing inside me. The only thing that stood was the strong armor I had on.

    One day I got a hug.

    I was too tired to notice it at first. Then the warmth flowed in and then the kindness. It felt safe, not because I made it safe, but because I was held in a hug.

    I knew then, I had been wrong and I needed many many more. They were warm rays of sunshine that helped life flow in me.

    Now, in isolation, in a pandemic with shorter winter days, when I need it the most, it is not there again. 

    I miss a hug.

    And I knew years without knowing what they were. And I hug my past self back and say - 

    "You have made it. 

    Good job you! 

    Now you can relax.

    Here is a hug for you."

Magical night

The fire had fizzled between them. She sat puzzled.

"Oh! It is coming again!!"

HICCOUGH

"Darn it!" She stumbled.

HICCOUGH

She drank whatever was in the cup. That felt better. 

The cat started to float away under the lights of the tree. 

The star was twinkling mischievously on the top. 

She was not sure what was happening to the cat.

Must be the broccoli she ate.. 

"Gas." She muttered.

The night only got stranger when the candy cane started to loose its stripes. It can't be called loose exactly, but started to change shapes. It looked like Mark's mustache one second and seal's teeth the next; and then spiky like it was electrocuted.

She rubbed her eyes.

HICCOUGH

One more sip. 

The star twinkled again.

She picked up the phone and called him. There was magic in the air tonight. Christmas was not the time to fight magic.

[Prose]: Shadow and light

Shadows are always beneath a light.
Shadows make light shine bright.

But what happens when shadow meets light?

One more day passed, feeling hopeless and defeated.

Nothing has been in my favour lately,

... nothing.

I have tried and tried to speak out. The frustration is building inside. I could scream, but I would only attract attention. I have become nothing more than a shadow.. ever present, just barely noticable.

Would you notice me if I was gone?..

There is so much I want to say, but words are.. not easy..

A little hope I see everyday, just a bit of light going past me.

I chased the light one day. It danced, it twinkled, it was bright.. sometimes mellow.. but always lit.

Do shadows and light ever go hand in hand?

There is always a shadow even under the flame they said.

I think they are right.

Shadows are essential.

I just need to rise from my doubts. I am needed, I am important. I just need a chance to prove it.

I seeked my chance, once.. twice.. many many times..

But..

But..

The chance doesn't come to me.. it's frustrating..

I am.. it is... Arrrrghhhh.. I need to get out and take my chances!

Yes! I must.

Today I will!

I will prove that I am what you need.

I got up from my dullness.. my feet were on auto-pilot. My pace quickened. My heart was racing. It was exhilarating.. a sense of purpose at last! I knew this time I won't fail.

This time I will make it!

I will prove myself.

I am stronger than this!

It will be obvious.. my worth.. I know it will.. it would be.. because it is me.

I saw the light, pulled it out.. but she seemed confused.. like she did not know me.

She will know soon enough. Of course she would. I have been her shadow for so long now. She needs me. In the rain, in the cold days to watch over her.

I will show her I am her strength. Once she knows who I really am, she will never need to be afraid. I will protect her light. I will let her shine bright everyday.

I tried to open my mouth and tell her all this, but she screamed. I muffled her scream. I tried to talk to her, but she bit me. I held her back. I tried to talk to her. But she was struggling, so I just made her immobile.

Now she was listening. Oh.. wait she is still struggling...

Ok..

Now.. she is fine..

I started to talk, but words seem to come out wrong. I waited for her response, but none were coming.

I checked, her eyes seemed closed. Skin was so warm and filled with her beautiful light. She was always radiant with life. That's what makes her special. Especially in the mornings when she wakes up. I have seen her, her most radiant with the little bit of sunshine through her windows.

I had to work hard for it.. her little glimpse.. I waited a whole week.. on long cold nights ..outside in freezing air.. but she warms me up everytime. My light.

Why was she not responding? I checked.. I patted her cheek again. My hands were smudged with something..

Oh it's blood. Where did that come from?

I am not bleeding.. that's good.

Her face seems ok. She is fine too.

But there is a small pool behind her.. oh.. oh... Oh no!

I..

She..

I didn't.. I wouldn't! ..

How could I?!

This is not ok.. it's not how is meant to be!

It was not me!

I would never..

Not in a million years...

She is my light! My light! I am supposed to protect her!

I will protect her! I will protect her!

I held her. I held her work both my arms. Surely.. surely my love would revive her.

I held her all night long. Her light burning dimly..

It was perfect to be next to her. My whole world was perfect. I have been longing to touch her for so long. Can a shadow touch the light?

I think I just did.

I am happy now. She is in my arms. We will spend the eternity like this in each other's arms.

Just me.. and her..

Just us. Forever.

As we sat like this.. her light was with me. I was protecting her light. I was surrounding her from anything that can take away her light. I was right where I should be.

I woke up. Her light was all within me. But, I still feel empty...

Shadows are always beneath a light.
Shadows make light shine bright.

But what happens when shadow meets light?

Shadow stays and out goes light.