Monsoon Melodies
“The Monsoon of 1968 I cannot forget.” Mused Tina as she remembered grandma’s house.
Ominous clouds were looming over the eastern sky with gusty winds blowing across in every direction one stormy evening, when Tina heard a cry coming from the cowshed situated in the backyard of her grandma’s house. Before heading off, she picked up the kerosene lantern instinctively sitting next to the door of the back verandah; it was placed there, on the floor, in case of power outage.
Tina’s grandma’s house wasn’t exactly on a farm but it had the characteristics of one. Every morning, the cows were milked in the cowshed. Adjacent to it, a huge kitchen stood with two large wood stoves, and a deep well just outside the kitchen wall.
Constructed on a spacious cemented floor, the well had a rendered finish of bright yellow with a round opening at the top. On the outer most periphery of that platform there was a slightly raised rim that ran in a semi-circular fashion from the wall of that kitchen right up to the house.
This space between the well and that edge was used for washing and cleaning of all sorts. Maids sat on the rim, either gutting fish or plucking chicken as they pulled water from the well; a pail had to be lowered manually with a long rope to pull water all the way up. The sullied water would then gently flow away into the nearby drain. As a child, Tina often stood over the well listening to the resonating sounds she made while the water captured her reflection.
Tina and grandma lived together in this house. This arrangement was made by Tina’s parents because her school was closer from here than it was where her parents lived. Every evening they had visitors: Tina’s sister, mum and dad, her aunties, uncles and her cousins. Sometimes, they stayed for dinner other times not, but they most certainly stayed for tea.
They did not have T.V in those days so the family would gather around the oval table in the dining hall. Every evening at tea times, the house came alive with laughter and discussion. Sweets would be bought from Shachin’s Sweetmeat: Shachin was a sweet shop owner. His shop shared a common wall with grandma’s house. In fact, he was one of her very loyal tenants. At tea time, therefore, he made sure that he brought grandma the best sweets of the day.
There would be Roshogollas and Kalajamons made from soft white cheese dipped in sugary syrup (both sweets were round in shape and medium in size. But while Roshogollas are white, Kalajamons are white on the inside and burnt red on the outside.) Sometimes, Shachin would send luchi (small, round, fluffy, deep fried bread) to go with those sweets. Tea was inevitably followed by snacks which children were not allowed; they were only allowed snacks. Grandma happily served everyone around the table.
Tea time would go on for hours. Eventually, the visitors would depart one after another leaving grandma and Tina to themselves. But, before doing so they would move from the dining hall to one of the bedrooms. The aunts would sit on the bed huddled together to talk about the latest sari on the market or movies that they had recently seen, but mostly saris. Uncles on the other hand, sat in the drawing room talking either about mortgage or the share market.
Tina loved this place… specially the big wall clock with the oscillating pendulum that hung in the room where her aunties chatted: one of the five large bedrooms. Grandma would wrap a tiny piece of betel nut and white lime in a betel leaf to put in her mouth before she sat down on her cozy corner of that bed. Her mouth would become red from chewing the leaf. With a mouth full of red juice, sometimes she participated other times just listened. But what Tina liked most was her happy demeanor.
A man would come every night with a huge ladder to fix the time. He would go up the ladder open the glass door of the clock and manually change the hands; it chimed every hour.
On this occasion, the clock struck six in the evening, and it was tea time. While everybody was busy in the dining hall, Tina quietly ventured out to ascertain about that squeal. She walked through the rich orchard among the many oriental trees such as the Jackfruit, the Indian Plum, the Mango and the Custard Apple in the backyard. These were planted to epitomize each of her grandchildren as they were born one after another in the house. So, when Tina was born the Indian Plum tree was planted which is now massive.
As the tiny wick continuously wavered in the strong winds, she vaguely saw in the soft wiffle-waffle of the glow that something was afoot in the direction of the kitchen. When she got closer, she realized that the cry came from this young maid.
The maid was boiling milk on an old fashioned wood stove. These stoves which were handcrafted from clay had a round big bottom like a pot to hold the fire. The top had a small round crater like cavity with three little humps built around it. These humps were evenly spaced to provide sufficient support for pots and pans. And the spaces between humps were deep enough for the firewood to be positioned. The long inclining logs would be thrusted all the way in as a small portion of it protruded out of the stove.
She sat on the floor near one such stove blowing into a steel, medium sized, narrow tube. It looked very much like the aboriginal musical instrument called the Didgeridoo. Except, in the case of the Didgeridoo there is sound of music, whereas this only rekindled fire.
In the light of the lantern and the fire, Tina saw the maid’s thin body standing close to the window looking towards the cowshed.
“What happened?” Tina asked abruptly, startling the maid.
“Come quickly.” She said in a real hurry.
Tina rushed with the lantern and shrieked, “O, my God!” the pregnant cow had just given birth. The calf was still struggling to reach mum’s udder on its four infant feet. It was not easy because the floor was slippery from the cow dung.
The impending storm from the ashen sky finally yielded. The downpour offered no sign of a let up as the torrential rain fell in every direction. The trees swayed and the branches creaked as the gusty wind slashed through them. Tina hurried back to the house to share the news with the family. Through the dark, intense rain she ran still holding the lantern. She went up the twelve steps onto the wide veranda and then into the house. But to her dismay, she found that everybody had left. Her parents were going too, only waited to say goodbye to her.
Tina had just opened her mouth to speak when her mum, dad and little sister Mona showered her with hugs and kisses nearly suffocating her. Grandma and Tina saw them to the door as they said goodbye. Suddenly, there was a lull in the atmosphere inside, although the winds still raged outside. While grandma went to say her prayers, Tina made a small boat with a piece of paper and set it sailing in the storm drain just down the steps. In the meantime, grandma came onto the verandah and summoned Tina for dinner on her way to the dining hall.
Dinner time was unusually quiet that night. It was about nine ‘o’ clock which is when they had dinner every evening. But this night was exceptional. Grandma was in no mood to talk. She seemed preoccupied. They had Chicken Korma (chicken cooked with garlic, onion, ginger, oil and a cup of milk) with Polau (rice fried in purified butter) and Raita made in tomato and cucumber (a yoghurt sauce). The Raita was too runny for her taste but she had it anyway. The Korma was tasty.
“Grandma’“ Tina suddenly called breaking the silence.
“Hmm.” Grandma replied drinking water from her glass and looking at her at the same time.
“Our pregnant cow gave birth today.” Tina said.
“When?” Grandma asked, clearly excited as she put her glass down on the table mat.
“Earlier in the evening.” Tina said.
“That was the best news I have heard in all evening.” Grandma said sighing.
“Really?” Tina enquired surprised.
“Yes dear.” Grandma said.
And then she added plaintively, “Your uncles want to sell this place to the developers.”
After a dumbfounded pause, Tina asked nervously, “but what will happen to us? This is our home.”
“It would still be. Only, we would have to live in a flat.” She said.
Tina could not believe that her uncles could be so cruel as to do something so nasty.
“But why”? She cried frantically.
“Because there is big money in it, that’s why. Anyway, you would not understand all this. Tell me about the calf.” She asked passionately.
Tina described the events of the entire evening to her. By now they finished dinner and as grandma was clearing up, Tina went outside to wash her hand. She took a mug full of well water from the pail sitting on one corner of the verandah. This spot was reserved to wash hands on their way into the dining hall. As she looked down, she saw that her paper boat lay up side down in the drain. Apparently, it got stuck along the way as the strong winds tipped it over.
She finished the last chore of the day: brushing her teeth, and then climbed into bed with grandma. They slept in the same bedroom which had the clock. Darkness fell all around as grandma switched off the light before coming to bed but she was restive.
Tina heard her deep sighs, saw her tossing and turning in the moon light pouring into the room from the open window. And at midnight when the clock’s peal sent a cold shiver down Tina’s spine, she asked, “Grandma.”
“Yes,” said grandma.
“What’s going to happen to the cowshed?”
“It’ll have to go too,” she answered sadly. “Its late dear, go to sleep now, you have school tomorrow.”
Tina lay awake in the darkness trying to envisage the future, the future of the house and everything that came with it: the togetherness—her life with or without grandma—listlessly she fell off to sleep.
Sluggish, the next morning Tina did not want to go to school. But she had to. As grade seven captain she had responsibilities. Before breakfast, Tina thought she would take a peek at the calf in the cowshed. She stepped down the twelve steps from the verandah as grandma called her for breakfast. It was a beautiful, bright morning with many unnamed birds flying sprightly from one tree to the next … chirping, frolicking in the grove.
There were people in the cowshed—the milkman and his son had come to milk the cow as usual. But to-day it was somewhat different. Tina watched in horror as they led the calf to the udder and just when the milk started flowing, the calf was pulled away. The men then milked the cow dry and left it for the desperate calf to reclaim the leftover.
Distressed by this unkindness she quietly walked back to the house, had her breakfast of rice, egg and vegetable curry, kissed grandma goodbye and off she went to school; she never packed lunch as it was served in school. It was from ten ‘o’ clock till four in the evening.
That evening, Tina could hardly wait to see the calf. She rushed to the cowshed as soon as she came home. The calf was lying at her mum’s feet and Tina got hold of some grass stacked in the corner of the cowshed offering it to the calf. But she noticed that it was not interested. So she left it near her thinking that the calf was not as famished as she thought it might have been.
She went back to the house as the family would be arriving soon. And they did, each of them, one by one. The first ones to come were Tina’s uncle, grandma’s only son, and his wife. Grandma opened the door and greeted them but with forced smile. They sat down in one of the sofas in the big bedroom. His wife opened her bag to give Tina a box of lolly which she accepted graciously.
Grandma sat on the high bed making small talk when there was another knock on the door. The four sisters, their husbands including my mum and dad and all the cousins arrived, more or less at the same time. To day, they sat in the same room. The chitchat went on for a while complimenting each other on their saris and talking about the heat in the traffic jam.
Tina and grandma quietly went into the dining room to set the table. As Tina began to put the plates out, grandma said abruptly, “I have a bad feeling.” Why, grandma?” Tina asked innocently. “I fear that something might happen today.” She said apprehensively.
The Monsoon rain started soon enough and everyone gathered in the dining room helping themselves to Shachin’s sweets and tea. Eventually, it was grandma’s son who popped the question.
“Amma, would you like to sign the papers today?” Or did you want to wait until tomorrow? He said it so casually as if it was a done deal.
“What papers?” Grandma asked, sounding brave but her wrinkly hands shook a little.
“O, paperwork needs to be done in order for you to hand over the property to me so that the developers can move in.” He said.
Tina who was listening to all this intently looked at her mum and asked anxiously.
“Where will we go?”
“Tina, this place is not safe for grandma anymore. We will all get a flat once the building is complete and grandma would get one as well.” Mum answered as if she could read Tina’s mind. Tina looked at grandma who sat pensively on her chair while her children chatted away eating and drinking heartily. They did not think even once that it was of any consequence to grandma that she would lose this beautiful place for a tiny little flat. “While it is being built Amma, you can stay with us,” said Tina’s eldest aunt. And as for Tina, because the school was still too far from her parent’s house, she would have to move into the school hostel temporarily.
“What if I don’t want to?” Tina joined forces with grandma as she finally asked. “Yes, what if we don’t want to move?”
“Well now’“ grandma’s son said, “you are not going to put up resistance are you Amma? It will only make things harder. We all know how difficult it is for you to maintain this place now that you are on your own. You would have a lot more security in the new flat and less break-ins, probably none.” He ended.
“Yes, I admit that this is sprawling big house, but it will also take my home away, the home in which your dad died where each of you were born—a home with so many memories …” grandma broke down into tears before she could finish the sentence. She could not fight them any more. At her frail age of seventy that was the best she could do. No papers were, however, signed that evening as the atmosphere was too thick. Even, grandma’s children seemed subdued at the prospect of losing their family home forever.
That night as they went to bed, grandma asked, “Tina, do you think living in a flat is a good idea.” Tina thought for a while and then said, “well a flat’s a flat. A house is a house. A flat although small, can be comfortable with everything within reach. But I think I am going to miss the house.” She finished the sentence in one breath.
“So will I,” said grandma sighing, “but I don’t think we can hold it off any more. I might have to sign the papers tomorrow.” They were both quiet for a moment and since it was a long day soon dosed off.
Tina found herself in an enchanted, magical rain forest which housed many beautiful birds. Springs flowed from lofty green mountains meeting the stream down at the bottom while a musician sang the monsoonal ragas with the Tanpura. Suddenly, there was noise—horrible grinding noise. Oh! It was the noise of a bull-dozer. In a moment, the exotic trees and the birds were gone, the strings of the Tanpura snapped and the music was lost. There was nothing left but total devastation; Tina woke up soaking wet. She laid there breathing heavily as she absorbed the atmosphere of the clock’s tick-tock in the dark, silent room.
When she finally saw the light coming through the window, she quietly got out of bed while grandma was still asleep. Ding-dong, it was five a.m.
In the meantime, fifteen years had passed and Tina finished university. It has been many years since she revisited this place. Yes, she finally moved in with her parents. Today, she stood looking at this onslaught; there was nothing left even slightly resembling that idyllic atmosphere. The lovely house overlooking the orchard was now brutally replaced with a tall, cold building, used for commercial purpose only. This building could never become residential because it was more lucrative to sell it as office. Tina wondered even if grandma was given a flat, how could she have lived here amongst these people? In flashback the last few days of her life came back. She was in one of Tina’s aunt’s houses—dispossessed and dependant, when Tina went to see her one day. Her house was gone and everything with it. Even Shachin’s Sweetmeat was flattened to the ground.
Grandma sat in the garden reading a newspaper. She looked at Tina and smiled faintly. Tina would never forget the pain in her old brown eyes as her thin weak hands clutched her wrist. This dejected grandma was not the same person that she knew. All she could say was, “my children have kicked me out of my home.” Tina tried to console her by saying, “you will be given a modern three bedroom flat. Hopefully, we’ll be able to fit in all your furniture and I’ll come back to live with you.” But she was not receptive anymore. A few days later grandma was admitted to a hospital and one day when the phone rang in the hostel, Tina knew that it was not glad tidings. Her mum was on the phone, sobbing, grandma had passed away earlier that morning.
By now, Tina started to get a headache. She walked away from the building thinking of the momentary joy that was once associated with this place; the wall clock kept ticking in her mind as the tinkle of the laughter slowly faded. But, the enchanted picture fused with the Monsoonal Ragas was framed within her soul in eternal symphony.
Mehreen Ahmed is the author of many academic articles published in leading journals of her area. She has also published creative work (Velvet Illusion Literary Magazine and scribd) and writes for community magazines and newspapers. Mehreen has two MA degrees, one from the University of Queensland in Computer Assisted Language Learning (Applied Linguistics) and the other in English from Dkaka University in Bangladesh. She reads for pleasure, sings and likes to watch classic movies based on Dickens, Bronte, Hardy and Shakespeare. One of her favourite quotes from Shakespeare is from King Lear: As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods, they kill us for their sport.
“The Monsoon of 1968 I cannot forget.” Mused Tina as she remembered grandma’s house.
Ominous clouds were looming over the eastern sky with gusty winds blowing across in every direction one stormy evening, when Tina heard a cry coming from the cowshed situated in the backyard of her grandma’s house. Before heading off, she picked up the kerosene lantern instinctively sitting next to the door of the back verandah; it was placed there, on the floor, in case of power outage.
Tina’s grandma’s house wasn’t exactly on a farm but it had the characteristics of one. Every morning, the cows were milked in the cowshed. Adjacent to it, a huge kitchen stood with two large wood stoves, and a deep well just outside the kitchen wall.
Constructed on a spacious cemented floor, the well had a rendered finish of bright yellow with a round opening at the top. On the outer most periphery of that platform there was a slightly raised rim that ran in a semi-circular fashion from the wall of that kitchen right up to the house.
This space between the well and that edge was used for washing and cleaning of all sorts. Maids sat on the rim, either gutting fish or plucking chicken as they pulled water from the well; a pail had to be lowered manually with a long rope to pull water all the way up. The sullied water would then gently flow away into the nearby drain. As a child, Tina often stood over the well listening to the resonating sounds she made while the water captured her reflection.
Tina and grandma lived together in this house. This arrangement was made by Tina’s parents because her school was closer from here than it was where her parents lived. Every evening they had visitors: Tina’s sister, mum and dad, her aunties, uncles and her cousins. Sometimes, they stayed for dinner other times not, but they most certainly stayed for tea.
They did not have T.V in those days so the family would gather around the oval table in the dining hall. Every evening at tea times, the house came alive with laughter and discussion. Sweets would be bought from Shachin’s Sweetmeat: Shachin was a sweet shop owner. His shop shared a common wall with grandma’s house. In fact, he was one of her very loyal tenants. At tea time, therefore, he made sure that he brought grandma the best sweets of the day.
There would be Roshogollas and Kalajamons made from soft white cheese dipped in sugary syrup (both sweets were round in shape and medium in size. But while Roshogollas are white, Kalajamons are white on the inside and burnt red on the outside.) Sometimes, Shachin would send luchi (small, round, fluffy, deep fried bread) to go with those sweets. Tea was inevitably followed by snacks which children were not allowed; they were only allowed snacks. Grandma happily served everyone around the table.
Tea time would go on for hours. Eventually, the visitors would depart one after another leaving grandma and Tina to themselves. But, before doing so they would move from the dining hall to one of the bedrooms. The aunts would sit on the bed huddled together to talk about the latest sari on the market or movies that they had recently seen, but mostly saris. Uncles on the other hand, sat in the drawing room talking either about mortgage or the share market.
Tina loved this place… specially the big wall clock with the oscillating pendulum that hung in the room where her aunties chatted: one of the five large bedrooms. Grandma would wrap a tiny piece of betel nut and white lime in a betel leaf to put in her mouth before she sat down on her cozy corner of that bed. Her mouth would become red from chewing the leaf. With a mouth full of red juice, sometimes she participated other times just listened. But what Tina liked most was her happy demeanor.
A man would come every night with a huge ladder to fix the time. He would go up the ladder open the glass door of the clock and manually change the hands; it chimed every hour.
On this occasion, the clock struck six in the evening, and it was tea time. While everybody was busy in the dining hall, Tina quietly ventured out to ascertain about that squeal. She walked through the rich orchard among the many oriental trees such as the Jackfruit, the Indian Plum, the Mango and the Custard Apple in the backyard. These were planted to epitomize each of her grandchildren as they were born one after another in the house. So, when Tina was born the Indian Plum tree was planted which is now massive.
As the tiny wick continuously wavered in the strong winds, she vaguely saw in the soft wiffle-waffle of the glow that something was afoot in the direction of the kitchen. When she got closer, she realized that the cry came from this young maid.
The maid was boiling milk on an old fashioned wood stove. These stoves which were handcrafted from clay had a round big bottom like a pot to hold the fire. The top had a small round crater like cavity with three little humps built around it. These humps were evenly spaced to provide sufficient support for pots and pans. And the spaces between humps were deep enough for the firewood to be positioned. The long inclining logs would be thrusted all the way in as a small portion of it protruded out of the stove.
She sat on the floor near one such stove blowing into a steel, medium sized, narrow tube. It looked very much like the aboriginal musical instrument called the Didgeridoo. Except, in the case of the Didgeridoo there is sound of music, whereas this only rekindled fire.
In the light of the lantern and the fire, Tina saw the maid’s thin body standing close to the window looking towards the cowshed.
“What happened?” Tina asked abruptly, startling the maid.
“Come quickly.” She said in a real hurry.
Tina rushed with the lantern and shrieked, “O, my God!” the pregnant cow had just given birth. The calf was still struggling to reach mum’s udder on its four infant feet. It was not easy because the floor was slippery from the cow dung.
The impending storm from the ashen sky finally yielded. The downpour offered no sign of a let up as the torrential rain fell in every direction. The trees swayed and the branches creaked as the gusty wind slashed through them. Tina hurried back to the house to share the news with the family. Through the dark, intense rain she ran still holding the lantern. She went up the twelve steps onto the wide veranda and then into the house. But to her dismay, she found that everybody had left. Her parents were going too, only waited to say goodbye to her.
Tina had just opened her mouth to speak when her mum, dad and little sister Mona showered her with hugs and kisses nearly suffocating her. Grandma and Tina saw them to the door as they said goodbye. Suddenly, there was a lull in the atmosphere inside, although the winds still raged outside. While grandma went to say her prayers, Tina made a small boat with a piece of paper and set it sailing in the storm drain just down the steps. In the meantime, grandma came onto the verandah and summoned Tina for dinner on her way to the dining hall.
Dinner time was unusually quiet that night. It was about nine ‘o’ clock which is when they had dinner every evening. But this night was exceptional. Grandma was in no mood to talk. She seemed preoccupied. They had Chicken Korma (chicken cooked with garlic, onion, ginger, oil and a cup of milk) with Polau (rice fried in purified butter) and Raita made in tomato and cucumber (a yoghurt sauce). The Raita was too runny for her taste but she had it anyway. The Korma was tasty.
“Grandma’“ Tina suddenly called breaking the silence.
“Hmm.” Grandma replied drinking water from her glass and looking at her at the same time.
“Our pregnant cow gave birth today.” Tina said.
“When?” Grandma asked, clearly excited as she put her glass down on the table mat.
“Earlier in the evening.” Tina said.
“That was the best news I have heard in all evening.” Grandma said sighing.
“Really?” Tina enquired surprised.
“Yes dear.” Grandma said.
And then she added plaintively, “Your uncles want to sell this place to the developers.”
After a dumbfounded pause, Tina asked nervously, “but what will happen to us? This is our home.”
“It would still be. Only, we would have to live in a flat.” She said.
Tina could not believe that her uncles could be so cruel as to do something so nasty.
“But why”? She cried frantically.
“Because there is big money in it, that’s why. Anyway, you would not understand all this. Tell me about the calf.” She asked passionately.
Tina described the events of the entire evening to her. By now they finished dinner and as grandma was clearing up, Tina went outside to wash her hand. She took a mug full of well water from the pail sitting on one corner of the verandah. This spot was reserved to wash hands on their way into the dining hall. As she looked down, she saw that her paper boat lay up side down in the drain. Apparently, it got stuck along the way as the strong winds tipped it over.
She finished the last chore of the day: brushing her teeth, and then climbed into bed with grandma. They slept in the same bedroom which had the clock. Darkness fell all around as grandma switched off the light before coming to bed but she was restive.
Tina heard her deep sighs, saw her tossing and turning in the moon light pouring into the room from the open window. And at midnight when the clock’s peal sent a cold shiver down Tina’s spine, she asked, “Grandma.”
“Yes,” said grandma.
“What’s going to happen to the cowshed?”
“It’ll have to go too,” she answered sadly. “Its late dear, go to sleep now, you have school tomorrow.”
Tina lay awake in the darkness trying to envisage the future, the future of the house and everything that came with it: the togetherness—her life with or without grandma—listlessly she fell off to sleep.
Sluggish, the next morning Tina did not want to go to school. But she had to. As grade seven captain she had responsibilities. Before breakfast, Tina thought she would take a peek at the calf in the cowshed. She stepped down the twelve steps from the verandah as grandma called her for breakfast. It was a beautiful, bright morning with many unnamed birds flying sprightly from one tree to the next … chirping, frolicking in the grove.
There were people in the cowshed—the milkman and his son had come to milk the cow as usual. But to-day it was somewhat different. Tina watched in horror as they led the calf to the udder and just when the milk started flowing, the calf was pulled away. The men then milked the cow dry and left it for the desperate calf to reclaim the leftover.
Distressed by this unkindness she quietly walked back to the house, had her breakfast of rice, egg and vegetable curry, kissed grandma goodbye and off she went to school; she never packed lunch as it was served in school. It was from ten ‘o’ clock till four in the evening.
That evening, Tina could hardly wait to see the calf. She rushed to the cowshed as soon as she came home. The calf was lying at her mum’s feet and Tina got hold of some grass stacked in the corner of the cowshed offering it to the calf. But she noticed that it was not interested. So she left it near her thinking that the calf was not as famished as she thought it might have been.
She went back to the house as the family would be arriving soon. And they did, each of them, one by one. The first ones to come were Tina’s uncle, grandma’s only son, and his wife. Grandma opened the door and greeted them but with forced smile. They sat down in one of the sofas in the big bedroom. His wife opened her bag to give Tina a box of lolly which she accepted graciously.
Grandma sat on the high bed making small talk when there was another knock on the door. The four sisters, their husbands including my mum and dad and all the cousins arrived, more or less at the same time. To day, they sat in the same room. The chitchat went on for a while complimenting each other on their saris and talking about the heat in the traffic jam.
Tina and grandma quietly went into the dining room to set the table. As Tina began to put the plates out, grandma said abruptly, “I have a bad feeling.” Why, grandma?” Tina asked innocently. “I fear that something might happen today.” She said apprehensively.
The Monsoon rain started soon enough and everyone gathered in the dining room helping themselves to Shachin’s sweets and tea. Eventually, it was grandma’s son who popped the question.
“Amma, would you like to sign the papers today?” Or did you want to wait until tomorrow? He said it so casually as if it was a done deal.
“What papers?” Grandma asked, sounding brave but her wrinkly hands shook a little.
“O, paperwork needs to be done in order for you to hand over the property to me so that the developers can move in.” He said.
Tina who was listening to all this intently looked at her mum and asked anxiously.
“Where will we go?”
“Tina, this place is not safe for grandma anymore. We will all get a flat once the building is complete and grandma would get one as well.” Mum answered as if she could read Tina’s mind. Tina looked at grandma who sat pensively on her chair while her children chatted away eating and drinking heartily. They did not think even once that it was of any consequence to grandma that she would lose this beautiful place for a tiny little flat. “While it is being built Amma, you can stay with us,” said Tina’s eldest aunt. And as for Tina, because the school was still too far from her parent’s house, she would have to move into the school hostel temporarily.
“What if I don’t want to?” Tina joined forces with grandma as she finally asked. “Yes, what if we don’t want to move?”
“Well now’“ grandma’s son said, “you are not going to put up resistance are you Amma? It will only make things harder. We all know how difficult it is for you to maintain this place now that you are on your own. You would have a lot more security in the new flat and less break-ins, probably none.” He ended.
“Yes, I admit that this is sprawling big house, but it will also take my home away, the home in which your dad died where each of you were born—a home with so many memories …” grandma broke down into tears before she could finish the sentence. She could not fight them any more. At her frail age of seventy that was the best she could do. No papers were, however, signed that evening as the atmosphere was too thick. Even, grandma’s children seemed subdued at the prospect of losing their family home forever.
That night as they went to bed, grandma asked, “Tina, do you think living in a flat is a good idea.” Tina thought for a while and then said, “well a flat’s a flat. A house is a house. A flat although small, can be comfortable with everything within reach. But I think I am going to miss the house.” She finished the sentence in one breath.
“So will I,” said grandma sighing, “but I don’t think we can hold it off any more. I might have to sign the papers tomorrow.” They were both quiet for a moment and since it was a long day soon dosed off.
Tina found herself in an enchanted, magical rain forest which housed many beautiful birds. Springs flowed from lofty green mountains meeting the stream down at the bottom while a musician sang the monsoonal ragas with the Tanpura. Suddenly, there was noise—horrible grinding noise. Oh! It was the noise of a bull-dozer. In a moment, the exotic trees and the birds were gone, the strings of the Tanpura snapped and the music was lost. There was nothing left but total devastation; Tina woke up soaking wet. She laid there breathing heavily as she absorbed the atmosphere of the clock’s tick-tock in the dark, silent room.
When she finally saw the light coming through the window, she quietly got out of bed while grandma was still asleep. Ding-dong, it was five a.m.
In the meantime, fifteen years had passed and Tina finished university. It has been many years since she revisited this place. Yes, she finally moved in with her parents. Today, she stood looking at this onslaught; there was nothing left even slightly resembling that idyllic atmosphere. The lovely house overlooking the orchard was now brutally replaced with a tall, cold building, used for commercial purpose only. This building could never become residential because it was more lucrative to sell it as office. Tina wondered even if grandma was given a flat, how could she have lived here amongst these people? In flashback the last few days of her life came back. She was in one of Tina’s aunt’s houses—dispossessed and dependant, when Tina went to see her one day. Her house was gone and everything with it. Even Shachin’s Sweetmeat was flattened to the ground.
Grandma sat in the garden reading a newspaper. She looked at Tina and smiled faintly. Tina would never forget the pain in her old brown eyes as her thin weak hands clutched her wrist. This dejected grandma was not the same person that she knew. All she could say was, “my children have kicked me out of my home.” Tina tried to console her by saying, “you will be given a modern three bedroom flat. Hopefully, we’ll be able to fit in all your furniture and I’ll come back to live with you.” But she was not receptive anymore. A few days later grandma was admitted to a hospital and one day when the phone rang in the hostel, Tina knew that it was not glad tidings. Her mum was on the phone, sobbing, grandma had passed away earlier that morning.
By now, Tina started to get a headache. She walked away from the building thinking of the momentary joy that was once associated with this place; the wall clock kept ticking in her mind as the tinkle of the laughter slowly faded. But, the enchanted picture fused with the Monsoonal Ragas was framed within her soul in eternal symphony.
Mehreen Ahmed is the author of many academic articles published in leading journals of her area. She has also published creative work (Velvet Illusion Literary Magazine and scribd) and writes for community magazines and newspapers. Mehreen has two MA degrees, one from the University of Queensland in Computer Assisted Language Learning (Applied Linguistics) and the other in English from Dkaka University in Bangladesh. She reads for pleasure, sings and likes to watch classic movies based on Dickens, Bronte, Hardy and Shakespeare. One of her favourite quotes from Shakespeare is from King Lear: As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods, they kill us for their sport.
