Hiranakshi (part 7)

Hiran was nervous and worried. She appologized profusely to her husband and her mother- in- law, but they wanted an answer. Why had she done it? What had caused her to ruin her husband's hard- work? She did not know how to tell a clever lie, so she said a very foolish one instead. She said it wasn't her. It was a bangle- seller who visited her often. She had asked her to reduce the price of her bangles and an argument followed. The bangle- seller then proceeded to vent her anger by distroying what she knew was the most precious thing in the house. Everyone knew how much she loved her husband's paintings. Everyone did. So the bangle- seller marred them.

No one would believ that lie. Who could blame them? Hiran was very childish indeed. She had lost her husband's confidence and her mother- in- law's affections. She would now have to learn her duty as a wife and do all her house- work like before, but under the watchful gaze of her mother- in- law. If she had forgotten her role, she would have to be reminded of it.

The bangle- seller never came back. Hiran knew it was not because of the argument they had. She knew that could have been forgiven. The bangle- seller never came back because Hiran had broken the very bond of trust on which their friendship was based. She had blamed her for what she did not do. She had blamed her for the ruined paintings. Do you remember, the bangle- seller had said, 'as long as you remain true to me, I will'Hiran had not kept her part of the promise. But hold on, how did the bangle- seller know what had happened after she left? How did she know that Hiran had blamed her for the ruined painting? Hiran says, 'Oh that woman knows everything. She knows everything.'

So saying Amuma ended the story. I was appalled. What kind of a rubbish story is this Amuma? It makes little sense to me. 'Ah', said Amuma, 'That is what Hiran used to say to everything the bangle- seller told her.' I think Amuma needs to be put away.

Hiranakshi (part 6)

The days passed quickly for Hiran. Every afternoon the bangle seller would come with her stories, her bangles and her drawings. They would run around the back garden like five year-olds. No one would stop them.

Then she asked the bangle seller, 'Will you be my friend always? Will you spend all your afternoons here. I will buy a pair of bangles off you each day if you like.' 'Yes, I will be there. As long as you remain true, so will I.' And they were happy. However, there was someone who was increasingly unhappy; the husband.' The food he now ate was only fit for dogs, the house was a mess, clothes were unwashed and his wife, young as she was, seemed to have retarded further into some stage in her childhood where nothing seemed important.

Then, one afternoon, the bangle seller said, 'Why do you never show me your husband's painting? I insist on seeing them.' Hiran did not like what she heard. It was her husband's work and she was not having it laughed at. 'What do you mean insist? Are you commanding me?' 'No pretty one, It is quite boring to draw any more. Can we go inside the house and have a look at his works?' 'No, we may not.' 'Why not?' 'Because I said so!'

The bangle seller became quiet. She had never denied the pretty one anything she had wanted, yet the pretty one found it so easy to deny her everything she wanted. 'Alright then. If you don't want me to see them, I guess it is entirely upto you.' Hiran was amused, 'Ofcourse, it's entirely upto me. How could it be otherwise? He is my husband and those are his paintings. I can choose to do with them what I want.' The bangle seller smiled. 'Is that true? You are a lucky one then, if you have so much right over your husband. I have not know another so fortunate.' Hiran caught the hint of sarcasm in her voice. 'I think you should leave now.' she said firmly. 'Alright, I will.' So saying the bangle seller got up and put her basket on her head again. As she left to go, she felt a tingle of pity for the young girl so pretty and so naive. 'Would you like me to get you any new bangles tomorrow? I have a pair with me that have green stones studded around them. I was saving them so I could sell them to a very rich woman. You are rich enough. Would you like me to get them for you?' Hiran was not impressed. The bangle seller had more bangles then? Ones she did not carry in that basket? Ones she saved for better people? 'Oh, I am not so sure. Green was never my choosen colour. Also, my mother sent enough bangles with me to last me a life time. I just buy them from you to help you earn a living.' The bangle seller left without saying another word.

That evening, as it neared sunset, Hiran grew worried. Had she upset her friend? Would she not come back the next day? What if she did not? Where would she go look for her? She did not even know where bangle sellers lived? Would she be able to get her husband to find out? But it was all his fault in the first place. Had he not hidden all of those paintings in that silly room of his she would have showed them to her friend. He thinks he is making a shrine for them does he? Are his paintings so precious as to have a room all to themselves, while she shared hers with him? How long had it been since he had even spoken to her with love? She was not having any more of this! She took a tumbler full fo water and broke into the room in which the paintings were. She looked at them, those blue rivers, the yellowing leaves, the calm faces. she splashed the water across them, leaving a tiny stream of blotched paint behind.

Now the young are often impulsive. They are also more prone to guilt. The old have seen more of the world and thus convince themselves that their faults are not their own. They conjure up another figure, they name it destiny, circumstances, fate, God, life... anything but their own name. They blame this creation of their mind for their faults. But the young do not yet know this trick and so are defenseless against guilt. Hiran wept. The tears in those shapely eyes could have melted anyone; anyone but her husband.

He decided enough tolerance had already been shown. Now was not the time to sit down to meditate, now was the time to take action. Such faults must be corrected at the right time or they would become stronger. So he decided to take matters into his own hands and promptly sent word to his mother. He requested her to come home as there were matters to be discussed and sorted. This she did, for she loved her son and she loved her peace of mind.

Hiranakshi (part 5)

That evening her husband noticed the food was not as well prepared as usual. He also noticed Hiran did not fan him well. She seemed to find it hard to hold the fan properly in her hand, as if she were too delicate to do so or as if her palms were too precious to be creased. He found her to be very pre-occupied. He said nothing to her. He was a wise man and knew that one must always be patient with the young. So he went to rest as usual.

In the morning, Hiran was up earlier than usual. She waited impatiently for her husband to leave for work. Afternoon seemed to take its own time coming. Finally it was that voice again. 'Is it me you await, pretty one?' Hiran's ears perked up and her eyes shone. 'Look what I found!' Hiran took the bangle- seller by the hand, almost dragging her along, to the back garden. There in the dark corner of the garden, where sunlight could hardly reach even in the prime of noon, Hiran revealed a large butterfly. It had caught one of its tentacles in the pattern of the bark and could not release itself. 'It will die today, won't it?' Hiran asked solemly. 'Maybe.' said the bangle seller and squatted on the floor. She began to trace a pattern on the sand. 'What are we going to do? How do we save it?' Hiran was getting paranoid. 'We cannot save it, pretty one. No one can save no one. We can only make it immortal.' 'How?' Hiran was almost screaming now. 'Watch me while I make it immortal,' said the bangle seller calmly. Hiran went on her knees to see what the bangle- seller was upto. She was drawing, with her index finger, on the sand. She was making a picture, a very pretty one, of the butterfly. When she had finished, she looked up and caught the bewilderment in Hiran's eye. She laughed to see the large almond shaped eyes so troubled. 'Nice picture,' said Hiran recovering, 'You are more talented than my husband.' 'Does your husband draw?' 'Oh yes. He is a very talented man.' 'May I see any of his works?' 'No, you may not! Are you trying to fool me? You said you would make the butterfly immortal! Now it hangs there on the bark. It's dead! And you have nothing but a drawing on sand that won't last till tomorrow.' 'Will you forget it, pretty one? Will you forget how you wanted to show me this insect? Will you forget how I drew it on the sand, or this conversation?' Hiran paused before she answered, 'Not for a few days atleast.' 'Alright. I won't forget it for all my life. So the butterfly did not die. It still lives.' 'Ah.' said Hiran, 'But only till you are alive. When you die, your memory of it will die as well. It will truely be dead then!' 'Not if I manage to make another person remember me when I am dead,' the bangle seller smiled. 'I don't understand you,' said Hiran, 'you don't make sense.' 'Do you want me to draw you another picture?' the bangle seller asked. The lines on Hiran's brow were eased and she smiled again.

They spent all afternoon together, one dictating what was to be drawn and the other obeying. The husband came back to a house where the lamp had not been lit though it was well past sunset. The food was simple. Hiran had not even bothered to tie up her hair. It floated around her face like a dense smoke. Had he been a weaker man, he may have lost his composure, but he was wise. He said nothing.

Hiranakshi (PART 4)

Hiran waited till it was evening. She then bathed, wore on a red saree to match her new red bangles and put a string of jasmines in her hair. She humed as she made ready his dinner. He came as usual, her husband. He sat down to eat. He ate. He got up and left to go rest. Tears tingled in her eyes. She had made it very hard for him to ignore her bangles. She had let them be noisy, clinking about while she fanned him. She had fidgited with them all she could. Yet he took no notice. He was content and happy. Too content and happy! She hardly slept that night. She ran it all through in her head again and again. Her mother had given her good advise before she was married off, she had told her how to ensure the potatoes were ripe, how to pick the lemons, how to grind the chillies, how to tie her saree and even how to smile! She was taught everything there was to be taught, yet it all failed her now. How was she to win his heart? Surely she had done everything a good wife ought to do. She had exceeded herself in her efforts. Yet there he sat, blind to her bangles and blind to the unrest in her eyes.

The next day she ate nothing all morning. She did not feel like it. She sat by the door as if she had nothing to do. For whom should she rush about? For whom should she prepare a meal? For that person who could not even notice those bangles that she noisily pushed around under his nose? And then she heard the voice again, 'Look who hasn't slept all night!' It was the lady with the coloured bangles. 'Slept all night? No, I did not sleep. Do you know why? Because of these silly bangles.' And Hiran proceeded to tell the woman her story. The woman only laughed. 'Why blame my bangles, pretty one? It's not their fault that men are such fools. Alright then, if I have caused you such sorrow, I will give you some comfort as well. Look what I have here.' She took out a few leaves of dark green. 'Smell them.' Hiran obeyed. They were leaves that leave a colour behind when rubbed on the skin. They were used to draw patterns of filigree on the palms. The bangle seller made a paste out f them added water and then drew on Hiran's palms. 'What would you like?' she asked Hiran. 'I want a bird and a nest with eggs in it!' Hiran was almost excited. 'Well, that's what you will get then. You will get what you want. You only have to want it strongly.' Hiran chuckled.

It took quite a while. The bangle seller drew the bird with a short beak, the kind that eats only grains and she drew a nest with rounded eggs. Hiran watched in rapt attention as her pale hands began to glow red, the red of the soil. When it was completed the bangle seller said, 'Now you can do nothing till it all dries off. Who will make your husband's dinner?' 'You will', Hiran answered, 'And I'll pay you for it.' The bangle seller agreed.

Hiranakshi (part 3)

Nothing happened. Her husband went away each morning as usual and returned only by nightfall. All her wishing was in vain. The earth will not stop moving if you will it to.

It so happened that one afternoon, Hiran sat lost in thought, almost dozing off in the oppressive summer heat, when she heard the voice of a Bangle seller. It was a lady of about her own age, but taller and much darker. 'Aye Amma. Why don't you rid me of a few of these pretty bangles? They would look much better on your fair wrists than in my haggered basket.' Hiran smiled. 'How much are they for?' 'You ask the price, my dear, you do not ask how long I have walked barefoot in this rotten heat. You do not ask how sore my throat is from yelling for buyers. You do not see how my back bends under the weight of this basket. You only ask the price.' 'How she talks!', Hiran laughed to herself and said aloud 'Are you thirsty?' 'More than you will ever know. Fetch me a little water my dear and may your home always prosper.'

The bangle seller showed Hiran bangles of every imaginable colour. They were the bottle green, next to the turmeric yellow, the deep brown and the sky blue. Hiran wondered how many colours there were in this world. 'Wear then dear. They will look much better on your hand. Look! How they contrast against your fair smooth skin! Do you eat gold dust with your rice, to be glowing so? Try this one, the deep green. It looks like a snake coiled around your arm., the very same snake that is wound around Siva's neck. Or how about a red? You are too young to be married but all married women love this colour. Is your husband at home?' Hiran took offence to the last question. 'What is it to you?' she asked acidly. 'What kind of a man would leave so pretty a bride at home and go away to work? Would not his heart complain?' This made Hiran smile. 'Flattering me won't sell you any more bangles than otherwise.' she said hautily. 'My bangles sell themselves my dear. Just see how they glitter! They sing, they do. Listen. Chann chann chann. They sing don't they?' Hiran laughed. 'And what do they sing?' she ventured. 'Ah! Different songs for different people. For you it's probably a song of meeting and love, a song of the end of a long wait.' Hiran blushed. 'How these low caste women talk!' she thought ' So bold!'

'Alright. Just these red ones please. Nothing else.' Hiran gave her the money. 'Ah. I would have suggested the deep green, but you have made your pick and it is not mine to argue.' The seller gave her the bangles she had chosen and turned to go. She walked four paces and turned back to say, 'Be careful not to break them tonight. You know what I mean.' Hiran turned her face away to hide her smile.

Hiranakshi (part 2)

Hiran had been trained from childhood on the etiquette and customs that are expected of a wife. She knew them well and respected them. She servered her mother- in- law as long as she stayed with them. The mother- in- law, however, left her son and daughter- in- law in a matter of days after the wedding and sent forth on her long pilgrimage. Hiran then spent her time making delicious food for her husband and keeping his house in working order. The husband worked long and hard all day and returned home in the evening. The evenings he spent painting what he saw during the day. Hiran tended to his every need, making sure he was comfortable, healthy and happy.

The days dragged on and Hiran grew bored. She would wait all afternoon and evening for her husband to return home and once he returned she served him his meal. Those few minutes she spent watching him eat were the best minutes of her day. He would go away to paint for the rest of the evening and Hiran would be by herself again. She did not want to distract him from what he loved but she was growing restless.

Her waiting grew more eager. She would tie her hair in different patterns every evening. She would prepare every elaborate dish she had ever been taught. She would wear the finest of the clothes her parents sent with her. All for those few minutes in the evening.

Sometimes she grew jealous of those painting he made with so much care. Did they mean more to him than she did? Ofcourse not! How silly of her! She was his wife and he loved her. Didn't he?

When she heard his approaching footsteps in the evening, she would run to the door, which was always open in his anticipation. She would look at is tired face and feel a sudden surge of pity. She would help him wash his hands and feet. She would serve him his dinner and fan him while he ate. She would watch his face, his every gulp, reading his expression to see if he liked what he ate. Was it too salty? Was it not sweet enough? She could read it all on his face.

The nights grew longer and the waiting harder. She would sometimes secretly wish that he should be unwell, just so he would spend more time at home and she could see to his comforts with even more vigour. She would will it to rain so he would come home earlier than usual. She would wish some kind of law would be passed in big city, asking all husband to remain home for a few days. Something, anything to get a few more hours with him.

(to be continued)