Time Space & Me

Chapter 6.

Mama (My Mother)

She stood at the trunk of the fig tree and gazed. In her hand she was clutching a piece of paper and was wondering about her endeavour. She was restless, anxious and dazed. There came a man who is the friend of her lover. She waved at him and with a smile she passed on that piece of paper to him. Tell my man not to fail me daju……she asserted in her maiden voice. Ok bainee, the man gave her a quick smile and walked out. It was Sunday, November, 1974. The social structures at villages were still too conventional. They came from Rai families who are supposed to be very traditional in their ways of life and marriages. Village headman was the rule……..every word he spoke ought to be listened. Girl children were protected and were given in marriage to a man of their consent. She was nervous about the evening when her man would be summoned for the acid test. She crossed her fingers and prayed. The sun slowly made his way to the horizon. It has become big ruddy and simmering. Red hue blanketed the sky while birds flew to their broods. She fetched water from the pond, closed the coo door of her chicken and went inside and waited. She sat on the threshold and expected. A man of his age, tall slender, mustached and fashionable was preparing for the meet. In jeans and neatly tugged cottons, he is but a handsome man, almost like Greek god. Mr. D P do not get nervous, teases sharply by his friend, Mr. Pradhan. Well, I am not, in slightly in-confidence retorts D P. In a moment, two men were trailing the foot path, slightly hurrying, slightly hesitating. They walked through the tea garden, crossing brooks and Fhagu Khola. They walked up hill stoned steps, straight replica of Mayan builders. Finally, their steps took last stride; they stood standing on the small grassed uneven court yard. There host, a man of 60s was sitting on a stool and enjoying his smoke. He got up folded hands in response to exchange Seewaroos, Rai ways of greetings. A lady of mid 50s came out from the house and greeted these lads, with a slightly doubting smile. They looked at each other. His most anticipated host was missing, he felt flat and test-less.his eyes roved and rolled….his friend caught the message instantly. They sat still, exchanging conversations with their hosts with his attention diverted to and absentee. Almost by providence, an angelic persona in her late teens bubbled up with a tray of Darjeeling teas and Tibetean cookies. Cascading hair, average build, Mongoloid eyes, apple cheeks and red chilies lips. She is but more than beautiful….pleasant nature and charismatic voice. Please, have tea she tries to present herself as much normally as possible but she obviously is shaky, nervous and excited. As she serves her guest, she catches his eyes, locks for a moment and shies away. The old man queries their coming, where from and other petties to drag this conversations. They answer each question with brutal obedience that old man is already impressed. They sat on the foyer of double stories wooden bungalow, sipping tea and consuming in conversation. The pretension is that they knew the crux of this meet. Slowly, evening at puberty started to mature, the hills seems bigger and ghostly. Dot by dot stars started to appear in the sky, happy moon in his youth lazily crossing the sky smiled, birds chirping in collection, parliament of owls cooking politics of catching insects and bugs, rodents and rats in their evening din. Invitees gathered one by one and groom is called on. The family head tallies bride and grooms horoscopes and consents over home brew beer and eateries. The ceremony dragged unnecessary longer and longer as they drank more by the gallons. Finally, the bride, their daughter was declared taken with traditional but symbolic handing taking formalities. It’s a common tradition in Rais to transfer the death responsibilities towards bride’s side. This is done by invoking Maang and hitting the bell metal thrice. By the time it was ante meridian one; every one dispersed and went to bed. Januka, the bride, went to her room and packed her belonging for next day journey to Bhutan. Unknown, tiring and long. She held memories of her birthplace tightly and broke into tears till she went to oblivion.

The next morning was a sad, emotional and weeping affair. Januka was given a ceremonial farewell, queue of friends and relatives waving her good byes. She waved her red kerchief and tiny hands. As she walked, her eyes became blurred, smudged and in a moment everyone disappeared. She walked in deep silent, heavy heart and unknown. She stopped and turned back for final glance of her village. She gazed for a long time as to catch every details……then unwillingly walked with her man, never to look back again…..