Backwater Ripples...home at last Part 3

The next few days, seemed to be the happiest ones of my life. Anand was mine, and I was his. I felt as if I was walking on air or floating on a cloud. It was only later that I realized that it was the calm before the storm. All was well till I was with my grandmother in the dining room with the Thamburan, Thamburati, Anand and his two sisters. The Thamburan announced that as Anand was the eldest son in the family, he would be taking up the title once he died. As everyone applauded, I saw an odd gleam in Anand's eyes which I had never seen before. His face lost its boyish charm and became contorted with haughtiness and greed. When he looked at me and I smiled at him, I detected a trace of icy indifference and incredulity. I had a feeling that something had changed and it was beyond my control. Even his sisters and their personal help seemed to be looking at me so contemptuously, I was never on friendly terms with them to begin with, but I did not do anything to deserve this kind of disregard. Would they have come to know about me and Anand? Would he have told them? Would he really be that mean and selfish? Oh no, does Ammumma know?

I was so preoccupied with the euphoric effect that I completely overlooked how my grandmother would react and what may happen to her. Later that night, I heard a clanging of metal, sounded like pots and pans falling down in the kitchen. I rushed there because I knew how Ammumma had a habit of arranging the kitchen when she could not fall asleep. And she had been restless and behaving unusually passive since the king's announcement. When I reached the large kitchen with its gleaming vessels and earthy aromas, to my horror I saw many steel bowls and pots askew near my grandmother's unconscious body. My screams for help awoke the entire household, and almost immediately the doctor arrived and by that time Ammumma was in her room on the bed. The doctor's face was expressionless, but I could feel that it was not going to be good news. After what seemed like an eternity, he told the Thamburan that family should be called, she had a heart attack and did not have much time left. I felt like my entire world which was suspended by a single thread, had fallen and smashed to pieces. Her eyes began to flutter, and I heard a mutter a faint, “Gopika?” I rushed to her side and squeezed her hand, but the strength which she held mine was minimal in comparison to when she picked me up from the station. Her face looked drawn and pinched, her snow white hair looked flaccid and limp, and her eyes' lustre was dimming. Nevertheless, she still smelled of sandalwood, jasmine and coconut oil. She wanted to tell me something, I knew it, so when my face was close to hers, she told me something that I would never forget, “Gopika, my dearest child, I know you better than yourself, and I know about you and Anand, I am not disappointed, I feel hurt that you didn't tell me before. But you must have thought I would have scolded you, isn't it? I may have. I'm not as strong as I used to be, my body just can't keep up with my iron will. Listen to me carefully, you will be facing some of your hardest days so no matter what, stick to your beliefs and remember I will always be proud of you. I hate that I will not be with you in person to be your comfort and support, but I will always be with you in spirit. Your life is just about to begin and I know you will do very well, I can feel it. You may not think that you are capable or bright or brave, but I can see the spark in you, so make sure you never let it die and do no let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much I...”, and then her hand fell from mine, she closed hey eyes, and left me.

I had never felt so lost and alone, I felt like a part of me had gone with her. Emptiness was the word. A hollowed out shell, with nothing left to offer. And just when I thought that my life could not get any worse, Anand met me a few hours later in the garden. He told me that he was sorry about Ammumma and that he would miss her also, and then he said, “ Gopika, every day my father is getting older and weaker and I am slowly learning how to be a responsible leader. And as the burden of responsibilities increases, small sacrifices have to be made, and one has to move on with life. I hope you can understand what I am trying to say. Are you?”

“I am not sure. What are you trying to say?”

“I am saying that in my future, there is no place for us to be together. If you had not noticed, my sisters and all the other servants know. And they have started talking, luckily it can be dealt within our compound, but I cannot let it go any farther. My reputation...”

“Stop right there! What about my reputation?! Or do I not have the right to one because I am just a servant?! Why didn't you think of this earlier? Well, I am sorry if your ego has been hurt. But let me tell you, if I had been in your place, I would have had the strength and courage to face my family, because I had loved you that much. But had you ever loved me to begin with? Or was I just some casual...?

“ Listen, you shouldn't be making such an issue about this, okay? But I cannot risk my future. But if you still want to be with me, I can try and keep this hushed up, maybe even after my marriage, we can...”

“You're getting married.”

“Yes. To my father's sister's daughter. I have only seen her when I was 10 and she was 8, but I have heard she is educated and very well-off. So if you want, we can arrange to..”

I slapped him, with all the strength I could muster, across that face which I had once fallen for. “How dare you? Just because you are going to be king you think you can treat me like some concubine? I may just be your nanny's granddaughter but I deserve to be treated with some respect. I pity your to be, not because she has to spend the rest of her life with you, but because she has to live with your greed and ego! I promise you, you will never hear from me again.”

With that, I left him, gawking like a donkey and with my tears blinding and fogging my vision, I packed my things and left the wretched place. I intended to leave, but now without my grandmother and Anand, who I thought to be the love of my life, the entire place seemed to be cursing my presence. The friendly green haven which had once been welcoming had become stifling and overbearing.

I set out for the heart of the city and decided to find a job as a typist somewhere. Luckily, I landed a job with a small publication company and even found accommodation in a working woman's hostel ten minutes away. During these months, I started writing poetry and short stories to vent my feelings. I did not have anyone to tell it to, and on doing so, it brought me a sense of relief and calm.

          This was my first poem. In all my frustration and anger, which I had no other way to express, gave birth to these lines.

The Thorn

The light may dim

But the stars till shine

The sun still rises

and wounds heal with time

The scars may fade from my skin

But the one you made,

Will always remain, within

The one who should stay has gone,

I did not know, that she would go.

Her old face full of pain,

Your face full of greed,

How I wish it was you God had freed.

I became the sacrifice,

I was the thorn in your side,

Not that I am cast away,

From you and love,

I will forever hide.

My new boss was Arjun Nair, owner of Vishal Publications, was quite a friendly man . He always joking with my fellow colleagues and generally very approachable. Mr. Nair, what I called him, was tall and lanky. I heard him singing once for one of the Onam functions and he had a voice which nearly took my breath away. Three years ago, his collection of poetry was published. It was in English, and recently, had been translated into Malayalam. It had become an instant best-seller, and using his earnings, started this publication house. I had a copy of that which I read from cover to cover and soon became a prized possession. Being such an educated and accomplished person, he never treated me like his inferior and it was quite refreshing. When he saw that I had become bored with my job, he promoted me to being his personal secretary. And now, he relied on me for his personal and professional appointments. Ever since, I got promoted, I took an effort to learn English, I would listen to the BBC report on the radio every day. I had even bought a book to teach me the language. Mr. Nair saw me scribbling in my poetry book one day and asked me if he could see what I had written, I handed the book over and told him that it may not be that good because it was just an outlet for my feelings. He smiled and began to read. As he turned the pages, his smile vanished and his gaze became intense, I was wondering whether my work was that bad.

             He asked me, “why had you been keeping such a talent hidden to these pages? You work in a publication house, surely it would have crossed your mind to at least submit a draft? Or at least show them to me? I though we were closer than that Gopika?”

“I did not think that they would be good enough. That is why I kept it to myself.”

“Well, you have to learn to share, because if I know poetry, and I think I do, your book will be a best-seller. And I take it upon myself to ensure that it does. This is my promise to you.”

Three years later

Toronto, Canada

         Gopika was staring out her window, snowflakes were falling, and the once copper-red maple trees, had become bare with their leaves scattered on the road like pennies gleaming against the morning sun. Arjun had left for the airport that morning, his meeting with the Indian publication heads was that evening in Mumbai. She was proud that his publication house had become so successful. He called her his lucky charm because it was her volume of poetry and short stories that shot her and his publications to fame. After the English translation was released in 1957, it became an international best-seller and was nominated for the Man-Booker prize. It was an unforgettable year, she and Arjun became closer, through everything. He was always supportive even during her mood swings and unreasonable demands during the book tours and promotions. And on 23^rd September, her 23^rd birthday, he proposed. They had a huge Malayalee Hindu wedding, and moved to Toronto where he opened another branch. And this time he named it Gopika Publications, a publications house which gave a chance to upcoming writers.

“Amma!Where is my crayon boox?”

         The question brought her back to present day, as she turned to see her three year old son, Nihal, in his batman pajamas and colouring book in his round chubby hand.

“Your box is on your shelf, next to your aeroplane, remember you kept it there?”

“Oh yeah, thanks Amma, I forgot.”

             Running off to his room, Gopika smiled and headed to the living room with the day's newspaper and mug full of coffee in hand. She opened the newspaper and saw in the international section that the Kerala royal family had gone bankrupt and was going through a rough period. After the marriage of the Thamburan, he had taken to gambling. He was not able to have any children and he blamed his new wife. Then he turned to alcohol to drown his sorrows. She left him eventually and soon he started showing signs of depression and insanity. The sisters married out of the royal family so it seemed that the line would soon be at an end. Gopika was smiling to herself, when Nihal plopped into her lap, and asked her, “Amma, why are you smiling?” Before she could answer, he said, “ Could you read me one of your stories?” He had her book, Backwater Ripples, in his hand and opened it to the Acknowledgments page.

     It was written: To my grandmother who taught me to believe in myself and my first love who taught me the meaning of sacrifice and how to overcome all odds.

“Amma, was Appa your first love,” he asked me while looking up at me with those familiar brown eyes. Would I  ever tell him that he was the last surviving heir to the throne in Trivandrum?

Backwater Ripples...The royal romance begins Part 1

   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.