“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…I could walk through my garden forever.”― Alfred Tennyson
It was a typical year-end evening. A King Cobra snake emerged from behind the hedge and attempted to cross the street. This snake was not fully grown and was short in length. It would raise its hood and curl its body when it threw itself across the road, it would then fall at a distance, and later it would glide even further. We were transfixed by the raised hood, flickering tongue, and startled eyes. We were also awestruck by its vibrant energy and intelligence. The determination was so strong that it reached the opposite side of the street though the traffic was at its peak and disappeared in the hedges.
Along that roadside, there were vegetable vendors selling vegetables from carts. Upon seeing the King Cobra, these carts were left aside, they rushed forward to save themselves, anticipating the climax of seeing the Cobra land on their vegetables. After the snake disappeared, they got into a deep discussion about the snake until an old woman from the neighbouring building approached them for vegetables. She was Mariam who was simply referred to as Ajji by her many friends and relatives to call her Grandma.
“Ajji, did you see the snake cross the road?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t, was it a big one?” said Mariam
She then asked, ‘Was it poisonous? And was it black or brown in colour?’
She was delighted to hear the vegetable vendor recount the snake incident that evening. The vendors stood nearby and vividly described the entire incident. They talked endlessly to Mariam until a few more customers visited them for vegetables.
Mariam lived on her own and was in her seventies. The wrinkles on her wrinkled face made her look adorable. She was tall and fair with salt and pepper curly hair. She adorned the traditional saree and had a loud husky voice. She went shopping three times a day. She carried a cloth bag whenever she went shopping. Her hair was covered with a scarf today. In the mornings, she went for milk and breakfast essentials. She would then have the maid clean her house and wash her utensils. She would take her time getting ready for her bath and she would dress in beautiful sarees during the day. She wore a red saree and cream scarf today. There was no make-up or embellishment on her face like the vermillion. She had lost her husband during the pandemic. The family had lived in the village before, but the flats with their security guard and numerous families made her feel safer.
After an accident, she had a spine operation, but then her daughters, grandchildren, and husband tended to her. She lives alone these days. Occasionally, she would visit her daughters, but she couldn’t help them a lot as earlier. Her grandchildren were now adults.
In the afternoon, we went shopping again. There was nothing more to it than meeting people. Occasionally, Mariam found people in the garden and stopped to chat with them. Since she wanted to fit in with society, she always greeted people with a smile. She would also talk to her maid for a long time but the maid was a busy lady. After the courtesy talk, the maid would keep doing her work silently. Mariam was intelligent to take a cue and move into the hall. She would keep the windows and the grill door open even during the winter as she needed the warmth of fellow human beings.
As time flew by, the city began uncurling itself from the clutches of the pandemic. It was a birthday party in the garden space. The gathering was vibrant with tinsel, gold and balloons arranged all over the place. An arch of balloons welcomed the guests. Mariam lived just opposite to the garden space. She sat on the chair in the balcony and enjoyed watching guests enter the party area. Children were jumping in joy and dancing ecstatically to the fast music.
Mariam kept looking on. She suddenly noticed seven-year-old Chintan playing with his football. Chintan stopped in between and gazed at his friends. But he wasn’t invited. He was reminded of his father and the good times he had with him. He lost him a year and a half ago. Covid 19 had nothing to do with it; it was a metabolic ailment related to his kidneys. For several days, he was admitted to the Mumbai hospital. Cintan and his mother were with him when he died in May. His mother’s grief mellowed him although he was too young to comprehend it.
There were well-dressed children at the party. Chintan was wearing his usual clothes. His father had bought a beautiful apartment for them that he silently thanked him for. Life became difficult after his father’s death. In the evening, he would play with his friends but he felt he had let his mother down when he was admonished.
Mariam looked at Chintan in affection and yelled out in Marathi,
‘Ye Bala, come home, I have laddoo for you’
Chitan looked up in surprise, the smiling face of Mariam’s brought a smile to his face but he nodded in defiance as he was not sure whether he could accept the invitation.
Mariam smiled and called him once again
‘Come over, I have some goodies for you’
At the party, lunch had begun and Chintan didn’t want to watch his friends eat the sumptuous food, so he went to Mariam. She welcomed him lovingly and began chatting with him. Chintan was amazed when Mariam spoke to him lovingly. It had become rare after his father’s demise.
Mariam cooked a special meal after a long time…she appreciated her little visitor and a feeling of joy filled the garden as the music roared.
The bond between Mariam and Chintan strengthened thereafter.
“We carry within us all the mystical power we need to transform our world.”― Anthon St. Maarten
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