My musing and other: Dear Departed

My musing and other: Dear Departed: T

This is a Malayalam short Story Written by a young author  called Ms. Lalitha Rajakrishnan published in the Mathrubhumi Malayalam Daily.  I felt that I should share it with my folks many of whom  in all respects believes (though not always aspire) to be  a Malayalee- some one would like to correct it as Mallu?  I do not know how far I could do justice to the original, though on my part I have not spared any effort to make it readable. Please go through it. Your comments and suggestions are very precious for me. 

Dear Departed

This is a Malayalam short Story Written by a young author  called Ms. Lalitha Rajakrishnan published in the Mathrubhumi Malayalam Daily.  I felt that I should share it with my folks many of whom  in all respects believes (though not always aspire) to be  a Malayalee- some one would like to correct it as Mallu?  I do not know how far I could do justice to the original, though on my part I have not spared any effort to make it readable. Please go through it. Your comments and suggestions are very precious for me.  

In the early morning of Karkidakam, the darkest month of the year further darkened by the new-moon, which looked as if someone had poured black oil all over, Sunanda the Crow incarnation*flew down. She perched herself on the lowest branch of the mango tree which leaned on to the terrace of the house. From here she could get a good view of things happening in the household.

The first person she encountered was her husband; busy exercising himself on the terrace. After the exercise, which may last about an hour he will have his elaborate bath and the breakfast; then the office and other things you know…  

Where is my daughter? Sunanda looked around tilting her head as only a crow can do. Ah there she is, sitting on the windowsill talking to someone on her mobile-phone; fidgeting as usual , crooking her fingers whenever she felt frustrated. There is an obvious anxiety written all over on her blushful face. 

“How can one buy such thing from a shop? I have never ventured to do so far. .”: she is complaining to someone on Phone. It is not possible to know about the response of her friend; but Sunanda observed that her daughter’s face brightens up.

She looked through the window of her son’s room, and the sight is the usual one. He is deep in his sleep lying on his side with a pillow firmly held between his legs. It is too early; his day usually starts at eleven.

Sunanda found her Mother-in-law in a pensive mood in the kitchen. As she did not have any one to talk to; she is busy in the usual chores of boiling milk, making Dosa (a kind of pan cake) for breakfast etc.

As the time passed; a bleak sun momentarily peeped out of the clouds and slowly moved to the apex.

Sunanda started feeling hungry.

She remembered  of the Black-forest cake she baked to celebrate the 18^th birth day of her son. A beautiful jet black cake brilliantly decorated with icing, cherry and nuts and the name of her son tastefully imprinted on it. Later on he told her about the numerous likes he received when he posted its picture on his FB account. On Whatsapp also lots of his friends had appreciated it and responded with a ‘wow’

People usually offer rice, sesame seeds sandalwood paste and other things on this auspicious day for the dear ones departed, as a part of a ritual. Sunanda searched in vain for the scattered remains of this ritual across the patio.

It was getting dark; the weeping month of Karkidakam; her hunger pang has become acute.

Her son now is reclining on the cot with a lap-top on his knees. The door was ajar; probably he is confident that nobody will surprise him by barging intoat this moment.

 “What is he watching? A down loaded movie?” His tensed face and his restlessness are reflective of the pictures he was watching.

In the mean time she saw her daughter on the other end of the terrace. She was flirting on her mobile phone in a hushed voice, careful that she is not being over heard.  Sunanda was surprised. “Has she attained puberty? I am not even aware! She is just thirteen!! Wonder who is on the other end capable of bringing all those rainbows on her face!!!

She again looked into the rooms through the windows. Mother in law is watching TV. She will be so engrossed that even an earthquake causing catastrophe may fail to disturb her. Occasionally she is wiping the tears away with the end of her garment and also cursing someone in a subdued voice.

Finally tilting her head in the typical fashion that only a crow can do, Sunanda peeped into her husband’s room. He is on the phone for the last one hour. Sunanda picked up one sentence of the conversation very clearly. “Of course honey, next weekend we will spend together; Happy?”.

  Sunanda felt like throwing-up.  Her mouth started getting flooded with bitterness. Darkness was spreading all over. She saw a handful of scattered and rain drenched rice-offering in a piece of plantain leaf in the southern corner of the house next door. Somebody might have offered it to the spirit of some relative, on this auspicious day of the dead.  She swallowed the absolute truth that she is absent not only from this world but also from the hearts of her loved ones; The time is up and its time to go.

In to the night of the darkest month of the year; the new-moon enhancing its darkness further and making it look as dark as someone had poured black oil all over-Sunanda spread her wings. 

* It is believed that those dear departed, visit their house-hold on this auspicious New-moon day of the last month (Karkidakam)of the Malayalam calendar. People conduct poojas and rituals on this day and offer cooked rice and grains of sesame seeds as offerings. It is also believed that these spirits will be coming in the incarnation of a crow to accept these offerings.