Rajam was happy to use Balu as a buffer between her and Nagamma because sometimes the snoring was overwhelmingly loud and sleeping became next to impossible, especially when Nagamma’s face was six inches away. Partha made sad faces at her peeping over his mother’s back and Rajam covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Unfortunately, Partha would have to rely on his pleasant dreams to comfort him today as the bedroom was occupied. The rhythm of the snoring somehow lulled Rajam to sleep.
She didn’t know how long she had been sleeping when she felt someone shaking her awake. As she opened her eyes, a hand went softly over her mouth, preventing her from speaking. It was Partha. What on earth did he want at this unearthly hour? She fluttered her eyes open, slowly adjusting to the darkness around her. Partha tugged on her arm and helped her stand up. She looked at him half dazed, still swaying from the effect of her deep slumber. Partha held her hand and the two of them tiptoed out the back into the open thinnai. The evening breeze was light and the backyard was bathed in moonlight. She finally whispered, “Yenna? What happened? What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”
“Shh…” was his only reply. She shuffled along as he led her up the back staircase onto the open terrace. As she stepped onto the terrace, her eyes fell on the flower pot in the corner. The bud looked full and ripe and gleamed in the moonlight. She couldn’t focus clearly but it seemed as if it were about to bloom any time. She looked up and soaked her being in the expanse and brilliance of the celestial ceiling. It was not full moon yet but the moon still shone as bright as day. On a cloudless sky, the stars twinkled brightly, like a million flickering candles. It was quiet — just her, Partha and the heavens. She turned to question him again, when his intentions suddenly became clear. He pulled her gently into his arms and smothered her with hot kisses. Rajam panicked. “Yenna, stop! It’s open and anyone could come.”
“Don’t spoil it. It’s perfect and no one will come. Just relax and enjoy the moment.” Partha put his arms around her and gently unwound her sari, twirling her till she stood a few feet away from him, her face glowing with excitement, her eyes half closed in anticipation. Like a dream unfolding, he walked towards her and as he came close, he reached his arm forward to move a wayward strand of hair away from her perfect forehead. Cradling her face in his hands, he looked at her, not needing to speak one word to express his love, merely communicating in the consciousness that pervaded her senses, echoing his every thought and emotion. And as his lips moved down to meet hers, she closed her eyes, drinking in the madness of the moment of forbidden intimacy. Their bodies swayed and shuffled onto the charpoy, his weight crushing her and making her gasp for air. The bedding on the charpoy was thin and Rajam felt the jute rasping against her skin but she didn’t care. Her whole body was suffused with heat, rising from a glowing ember in her loins and gushing upward into her body, till it flushed her face, her heart beating uncontrollably. The flagrant desire was mutual, like an all-consuming fire, inundating reason and making them oblivious to anything but the pleasure of the moment. As their bodies writhed in unison, their breath coming in shallow, starving gasps, she reached towards him with every cell of her being, moving to meet and complement his every pulsating move. Their naked bodies were covered in sweat. A gentle winter breeze cooled their heated bodies outwardly but was unable to quench their inner fire. Arms and limbs entangled to create a single body, restless and thrashing in passion. And then, a thousand lights burst all around her, a thousand stars came rushing towards her all at once, a thousand colors, a thousand shapes integrating into a kaleidoscope of ecstasy, and she submitted to this heavenly bliss, experiencing an intensity of passion she had never felt before, with wanton abandon, hardly aware of her physical surroundings.
After a while, Partha moved off her and the two of them lay in close embrace, not wishing to move, lest they spoil the moment. No sound broke the stillness of the night, other than crickets, who seemed to chirp in rhythm to their labored breathing. Rajam looked up at the moon and stars and felt an inexplicable connection with the cosmos and nature around, a joy and elation she had never experienced thus far. She knew she must awaken from this languorous slumber and wash herself but when she tried to wriggle free, Partha only held her closer. Unable and unwilling to fight, she slipped into a languid sleep, and when she slept she dreamed.
She was running in a green valley, the wind in her face, her soft feet treading on grass which was softer than the softest silk. The setting sun shone down on her, yet its angular rays were warm, gentle and caring, almost as if they were caressing her being. As she ran, the breeze moved her thick black locks up and away, till they settled in a tangle around her face. When she stopped moving, she looked around to admire what she beheld. The view was panoramic and spectacular. All around her were snowcapped mountains, and exotic birds in vibrant colors were flying everywhere. Birds she had never seen before, in brilliant shades of yellow and purple, creating a colorful collage in a myriad of effervescent hues defying description.
Then, she saw the flowers.
White bunches of Brahmakamalam in full bloom, their soft white inner petals a gentle yet pronounced contrast to their spiky outer ones. She sank to her knees and touched the delicate flowers and the perfume entered her nostrils, filling her being with its potent fragrance, exhilarating her. The scent was like none she had ever smelled, almost as if it were a special heavenly concoction made for her sensory pleasure. She sighed in contentment, drinking in the heavy sensory overload.
The jangling of cowbells from the street below disturbed her sleep and she sat bolt upright, horrified to see her own nakedness in the morning light. With lightning speed, she dressed herself and rushed towards the stairs but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. In the crook of the terrace around the flowerpot were soft white petals.
The Brahmakamalam had bloomed at night.
She couldn’t believe she had missed it. She ran to the plant and scooped up the soft white petals and held it to her nose. Then she breathed in deeply, taking in the mystical aroma of the perfume that dreams are made of.
Part XIV
Dharmu
CHAPTER 40 – KANDU
RANGPUR – JANUARY, 1935
“Why not?” questioned Kandu, irate and almost screaming at his mother, who just could not understand his urgency.
“Kandu, for the last time, don’t argue with me. No means no.”
“But tell me why. You can’t just say no. You have to tell me why.”
“I don’t know why, but you can’t keep plants in your room and that is final.” Dharmu had been arguing with Kandu all evening but he would not take no for an answer. He came back every five minutes to ask again, hoping to wear her down, but she was resolute.
“But why?” badgered Kandu with the same question, almost as if he had not heard the conversation all evening.
“I told you, Kandu, plants give out bad air at night. Go ask your father if you don’t believe me.”
Kandu clenched his fists, his arms ramrod straight on either side of his body as he stormed out of the room. His brow was deeply furrowed and his eyes narrowed down to small slits. He was really mad! He had been caring for the plant his grandfather had given him and now there was a bud ready to bloom. Kandu knew he must watch it carefully or he would miss it blooming but silly Mummy was not willing to listen. He had to keep it by his bed, didn’t she see that? Honestly, girls were so silly! They just said things without any reason. What bad air was this plant going to give out anyway? Daddy was sitting outside in the verandah when Kandu ran up to him purposefully. Angrily, he plonked himself on the chair opposite his father, his arms crossed unyieldingly across his chest, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.
“What happened, Kandu? You look so angry the moon got scared and went behind a cloud.” Kandu glanced up at the sky to verify the statement but he saw the almost full moon peeping out from behind a cloud. “It’s Mummy. She won’t let me keep the plant in my room.”
“What plant?”
“The Brahmakamalam that Appanshayal Thatha gave me. The plant has a bud. Come, come with me and see.” He pulled his father to the corner of the verandah to show him the plant. Crouching down beside it, he gingerly pointed to the pinkish swollen bud, which was almost ready to split open.
“See this pink bud? It has been there for four days now. I have been looking at it ever since it first appeared after the New Year and I am quite certain it will flower tonight. If I don’t keep it in my room I will miss it blooming. Don’t you see I have to keep it next to me so I can watch it? Pleeeease Daddy, can I pretty please keep it just this night?” Kandu pleaded in an ever so gentle sweet voice, his hands folded, using every known ploy to get what he wanted.
“Don’t be silly, Kandu, you can see it in the morning. It’s not going to disappear.”
“Noo…” moaned Kandu now suddenly infuriated at having to explain his rationale for the hundredth time. “It blooms only for a day and only at night. I have to keep it with me but Mummy says bad gas comes out of plants at night.”
Mahadevan had been on the brink of capitulating but he saw that Kandu was playing him. “That’s right Kandu, at night, plants give out carbon dioxide and that’s why we don’t keep them indoors. You don’t want to breathe in carbon dioxide.”
“Oh God, Daddy, a little carbul diox eye won’t kill me,” said Kandu, almost getting a handle on the word.
“Kandu, if your mother said no, then it is no; you can’t keep the plant with you when you sleep.” This was the last straw. Kandu let out a long loud wail and left the room sobbing, hurling himself onto the bed, sniveling about evil, uncaring parents who didn’t know anything. By the time Rukku popped in to see what was up, he had pummeled the overstuffed pillow so hard, cotton feathers were coming out of it.
“Kandu, what happened, why are you crying?” she asked.
“Shut up and go away,” he shrieked and hurled the pillow at her, sending the fluff all over the room. “Hey!” he said in astonishment and then jumped all over the bed, trying to catch the rebellious fibers. In the meantime, Rukku hurled the pillow back at him and more feathers got released into the air. In no time a full-fledged pillow fight had developed and the two were squealing in excitement, hurling the now droopy pillow and then throwing more feathers into the air. When Mahadevan walked into the room, it was a sorry mess. The air was misty with fluff and both Rukku and Kandu were covered in feathers. They stopped in their tracks and turned towards their father, staring at him, their eyes wide open in fear, waiting for the admonishment to commence.
“He/she, started it,” they accused simultaneously. To their surprise, Mahadevan burst out laughing. It was so nice to see the children playing together and they really looked so comical. With their hair almost white and their clothes bathed in fluff, he did not have the heart to shout at them. Such impetuous moments came by only once in a while and he would leave it to Dharmu to do the bad parent routine.
Of course, Mummy entered soon afterwards and the Jamadar was summoned to clean up. With small children around, it was a great help to have a cleaner at your service twenty-four hours a day. The room was cleaned but not before Kandu rubbed a handful of feathers into the Jamadar’s head.
After dinner, Kandu waited until Mummy and Daddy went into the living room, before surreptitiously sneaking into the library to search for the flashlight. If Mohammed could not go to the mountain, then the mountain would come to Mohammed. Daddy said that all the time and now he understood what it meant. He knew exactly where to find the torch, in the second drawer in his father’s desk. He tested it, all the while nervous about getting caught. He knew he would be in terrible trouble if caught and he also knew he was not allowed to play with the flashlight, which had been a special gift from England from one of Daddy’s friends. He knew that batteries were not easy to come by but he needed that flashlight tonight. His mind was ticking with a zillion things so that ‘Mission Bloom’ would be accomplished. He tucked the flashlight into the front of his pants and peeked out of the door. All was clear. Like lightning, he streaked across the open hallway and into his room, stashing it under his pillow.
Well, that was done. Now he had to get his bedroom door open, a very difficult task. The verandah ran all the way round the house and could be accessed from all the rooms. He didn’t dare to open the front door, so his best bet would be his own bedroom door. All the doors had three sets of bolts: two on top, two on the bottom and one across. He had already undone the bottom and middle bolts but the problem now was getting to the ones on top. Why did they have to build such tall doors anyway? It wasn’t as if some tall monsters lived in the house. His cupboard was about two feet away from the door but he didn’t know how to get on top of the cupboard. A long time ago he had tried climbing up and the whole cupboard came toppling down on top of him. It was a miracle that he was not hurt. A step stool from the kitchen would get him to the third shelf but the dilemma was getting the stool into the room without alarming the family. He went into the kitchen and was surprised to find the servants had already left. Mummy and Daddy were in the verandah, so they would not hear the sound of the stool scraping against the wooden floor of the dining room. Only nosey Rukku was the problem. He crept up to their room and stood outside noiselessly, peeking through the curtains. To his joy, Rukku got up to use the bathroom. In seconds, Kandu was in the kitchen hauling the stool back to his room. Meera usually slept with Kandu and today he would have to make sure she did not see the stool. He inched the stool in the space between the cupboard and the door, out of plain sight. It was dark and Meera was not about to go snooping behind the cupboard.
Kandu closed his eyes tight and pretended to sleep when Mahadevan came to tuck him in. He pulled the sheet over his head when Meera entered with the lantern. In a while, the household was silent. Kandu lifted his head and peeked over the side of his bed. Meera was snoring softly. Hopefully, she was tired and wouldn’t hear the noise. He opened the doors to the cupboard and slowly pulled out the stool an inch at a time so no one would hear. In the dead silence of night, the squeaking of the wooden stool against the stone floor was unbelievably loud. Finally, he had the stool where he wanted. Tucking the flashlight into the front of his pajamas, he climbed up the steps and was overjoyed to find he could touch the top of the cupboard. He must have grown recently. He took out the flashlight and placed it securely on top of the cupboard and then hauled himself up. Now, all that was needed was to open the bolt. He hoped against hope it would not squeak. If it did, then all this trouble would be for naught. He lay flat on his stomach and reached out and to his utter amazement, the bolt slid open noiselessly. Someone must have oiled it recently. Like the doors to Krishna’s prison3, the way was clear for him. He grabbed the flashlight and climbed down one step at a time, catching his breath when he heard Meera move.
The evening was almost as bright as day when he stepped outside and he didn’t need the flashlight after all. All that work for nothing. The moon was almost full; only one side looked as if someone had taken a small bite out of it. ‘I wonder if the moon is really made of cheese,’ he thought to himself, as he tiptoed to the front verandah. In the moonlight, he could see the leaves of the Brahmakamalam gleaming like dull jade. The bud had lifted a little and looked as if it were ready to open any time. Kandu sat down and stared at the bloom. It was just a matter of time. He was prepared and was not going to miss it. In a while, his eyelids involuntarily drooped. He pulled a cushion from one of the sofas outside and put his head on it, now looking up at the bud. It was only a foot away from his face and he could see every crease of its petals. ‘I bet no one has ever seen this plant flower from underneath,’ he thought to himself. Just then, he heard a dull roar from the distance and shivered in fright. What if a tiger came? He listened closely waiting for the sound to repeat. In a few moments he heard it again, only this time it was more distant. Feeling safe, he got back to his comfortable position under the bud. He stared at it for so long his eyes g
ot crossed with sleep. Kandu panicked! He had to stay awake a little while longer, so he decided to count the petals One, two three, four. Hey! The petals moved. It’s blooming! But it was just his head that had shifted, or maybe his eyes had momentarily closed.
Sometime in the next hour, from sheer fatigue poor Kandu fell asleep and when he slept, he dreamed.
He was running in a green valley, the wind in his face, his soft feet treading on grass that was softer than the softest silk. Animals of all kinds moved around him: giraffes, elephants, monkeys and birds, all grazing in the valley and curiously looking at him. “Hello monkey, hello peacock,” he greeted them one at a time … till he saw the girl. She was calling him, beckoning him to follow. Bathed in a sheath of light, she was dressed in traditional clothing — blue pavadai and chattai — and her eyes were sharp and bright. Who was she, and why did he feel as if he had known her for many lifetimes? Why did she look so familiar? Was it those eyes that he had seen before? He wasn’t sure, but he followed her anyway, running as fast as he could down the valley, till he lost sight of her. But then the scent of something heavenly wafting past his nose distracted him. That was when he noticed the flowers. White bunches of Brahmakamalam in full bloom, their soft white inner petals a tender yet manifest contrast to their spiky outer ones. He reached out to touch the delicate flowers and the perfume entered his nostrils, the fragrance like none he had ever smelled, a gift from heaven. “Hmmm…” he sighed out loud, unable to contain himself. Smiling, he drifted into an even deeper sleep.
Mahadevan woke up early, hoping to enjoy the cool morning before the events of the day unfolded. As he stepped out, he smelled a perfume so different from anything he ever smelt, somewhat like jasmine but not quite. He followed the scent and came to the corner of the verandah.
When the Lotus Blooms Page 30
