Initially, the rustling among the coconut palms sounded like the onset of rain. Rain that would moisten the green earth as it fell from the ocean blue sky. The swaying of the palm trees seemed to wave goodbye to me as I made my way across the blinding neon green paddy fields to school. With coconut oiled hair plaited in two and the usual white cotton shirt and red pleated skirt, I could feel the end-of -year jitters running up and down my spine. I was looking forward to living with my grandmother in the royal city of Thiruvananthapuram( more commonly known as Trivandrum). I had a gut feeling that it was going to be exciting and unforgettable. Looking back, I did not know how right I was. And as can be predicted, my entire world was turned upside down, all in the name of nothing more and nothing less than (what I thought to be) love.
I always knew that this world was a lot bigger than the green haven I grew up in. It was my curiosity that could never satiate my hunger and thirst for knowledge about anything new. It was this craving for more that led me to him, that led me to a different world that I never dreamed could be mine, that led to who I am today.
It all started when my Ammumma, my grandmother, known to all as Ambikamai, who worked as the royal nanny, called me to stay with her in Thiruvananthapuram, now more commonly known as Trivandrum. I was waiting to break free of the usual routine, mundane and slowly stifling. A new city with new things to learn seemed like a dream come true. Little did I realise, that dreams do really come true. Naïve and bright-eyed at 18, I could only think about the adventure and fun that awaited me. To me, that was the real classroom, open to exploring, discovering and experiencing. And being the girl I was, I was ready to do it all and more, if I could. My parents were not the ideal role models that a child usually looks up to, however they were mine. But as far as I could tell, they seemed to be relieved to be rid of me. I may have been naïve but I was not ignorant of the way women were treated by society in Kerala, especially in smaller towns. Fortunately, my Ammumma, who was the most educated in my family and a real lady who I have always and continue to idolise, felt such thoughts were backward and ridiculous. And for this reason particularly, I loved her more than anyone else.
“Gopika! How much you have grown,” she exclaimed and drew me into her warm embrace as soon as I alighted from the train. “You look so much prettier than the princesses. I better keep you under lock and key, lest the evil eye is cast upon you.”
“Ammumma, you know I get all my good looks from you. In fact I think you look younger than the last time I met you,” I told her with a twinkle in my eye as I saw the twinkle in hers.
“Now I know why you are my favourite grand-daughter,” she confided in me her light brown eyes sparkling with the youth and vitality that always amazed me.
After such a warm welcome, I did not think I could ever get homesick in such a city. What a sight it was, outside the railway station! As soon as I stepped out, the strong smell of urine, horses, smoke, tar and excitement hung in the air. My hazel eyes drunk in the strange sights before me. It was like a carousel of crowds and clanging bells, hooves and chappals slapping against the cobbled streets, an urban symphony of sorts, strangely, music to my ears. My grandmother, unaware of the spell that the city had already cast on me, was dragging me away, my soft, tiny fingers locked in her larger calloused ones.
For the first time I understood what it may be like to be part of something much bigger, something which could not only affect me, but everyone around me. It was at that time that I truly felt I was responsible for my actions, no matter how overwhelming or deceptive the huge size of the city looked. My grandmother told me, as I took it all in, “Gopika, a big city does not necessarily mean broad minds.” Eventually and unfortunately, I had to learn that the hard way.
Disappointed that I had to leave that cobbled circus, Ammumma told me that we were going to where she worked and stayed, the royal palace, where the Thamburan and his family lived. We entered the golden gates, standing out like intimidating watchdogs amid the friendly green of the flirtatious coconut trees. The winding road laden with greenery on all sides, led to a beautiful sprawling palace situated at the top of a tiny hillock. There was a serene yet majestic feel to the area; even the trees seemed to hold their bushy green mops a little higher. We alighted from the tonga and made our way to what I assumed was the servant's quarters where Ammumma's room was. The weather was quite pleasant and on entering Ammumma's simple yet elegantly decorated room, a light cool breeze wafted in, bringing out the aromas of sandalwood, jasmine and coconut oil. My grandmother told me that since it was nearing noon, I had to go to the kitchen with her to help with lunch, but she would introduce me to the royal family first.
I felt my stomach twist and turn as I walked beside my grandmother. I would never have imagined being so lucky as to meet the Thamburan or his family. Unlike their western counterparts, who I feel are much more receptive to their public, or so I have gathered from the little that I have read, the Kerala royalty lead very private lives, and make very rare public appearances. Ignoring the increasing uneasiness welling up in my stomach, I trudged on, unsure of what to expect but the very worst. The tall ceilings, smooth flooring, brass and wooden furnishings took my breath away and made me feel more like a country bumpkin than ever. Every few seconds, it seemed that I had to tell myself to close my gaping mouth and not to blink my eyes, so as to not miss a single second of the splendour around me. Finally, we reached. Two sturdy wooden doors, with shiny brass knobs gleaming, did nothing to decrease the awkwardness or inadequacy I was feeling. One knows at certain times in life when something is about to happen that will change you forever.
In my gut, I could tell that this was one of those times. Ammumma with her assuring and comforting smile squeezed my hand before opening the door, and it was then that I saw him for the first time.
Ammumma called out, “Anand! There is someone I would like you to meet. This is my grand-daughter, Gopika. Gopika, this is the Thamburan's son, Anand.”
Anand, dressed in a cream and gold mundu and simple white shirt, turned and looked at me his deep-dark chocolate eyes boring into mine. Ammumma, oblivious to this exchange, continued to chatter excitedly, but it was all mindless noise for me in the background. With a lopsided grin, Anand asked me my name, in a voice as smooth as velvet, I could feel my face turning from soft pink to a deep red. Being able to stand without my knees turning weak, as I looked into his infinite pair of brown pools he had for eyes, seemed to be impossible. I immediately cast my eyes down, and murmured a feeble, “Gopika.” My grandmother astonished at my new found shyness stopped her chatter and mentioned how it was the first time she had seen me so tongue-tied. This amused Anand quite a bit as I heard a deep chuckle come from where he was standing causing me to blush a deeper red. Raising my head slowly, I could see the delighted faces of Ammuma and Anand, as they smiled at each other. And before Anand could say anything more, Ammumma remembered that she and I had kitchen duty, so she said goodbye to Anand, and before I turned to join her, I swear I saw him give me a tiny wink. Surprised and slightly bemused at his cheek, I walked alongside my grandmother along the spacious halls, feeling light as a feather. It seemed as though my feet were not touching the ground and all feelings of paranoia and uneasiness were gone.
My grandmother's questions drew me out of the trance, as she asked me what I thought of Anand. I told her I did not know what to say but he certainly knew how to make a lasting first impression.
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