The sky has darkened; it’s going to rain anytime now. Just a while ago as I fed the birds which gathered at my balcony the sun was right on my face. Spreading its warmth for a few minutes and afterwards began to hurt my face so much I had to take cover by the twiggy looking curry leaves. Yes those curry leaves, which engulf the whole house in their fresh tasty smell when they are fried in hot oil and get everyone sneezing.
Tropical heat is so unpleasant, it makes every pore in your skin sweat. I wonder sometimes what my sparrows go through in this heat. They are quite clever; when it rains they come to my balcony dripping wet. It’s adorable to watch the family of sparrows all standing in a circle shaking off the rain water from their water proof feathers; sometimes they get so soaking wet that they look like ‘they need toweling and drying’, suggested my brother, who has all the mischievous ideas at his finger tips. It makes me wonder how he manages to think through so many, so-called, solutions to problems that no one in the world in their right mind would implement but shudder in horror or just laugh. For this, he has an explanation too – he is left brainer and all his suggestions therefore will not work with people who think “right”!
I spotted him by the hibiscus plant, plucking the leaves – the very thick lush ones. This is for his experiment to extract oil from the leaves. You see, it started when he and the kids in the neighborhood realized that when the leaves of the hibiscus plant are crushed in a pot of water and mixed well, the liquid turns into a clear slimy thick substance. This they call “Oil”. Since the discovery of the Oil, he has been repeating the experiment to about 10 others, but he has not yet shown to everyone in the neighborhood. My worry is that the plant will not be able to re-produce all the leaves removed by him and will finish up looking like a plant tortured in a experiment camp! This world is full of wonders for him. There is nothing that he is not interested about. He has questions that range from “do ants take giant steps when they are in hurry” to “will a money plant grow in my stomach if I swallow a coin?” My mom thinks he will grow up to be a scientist, and my dad says he will grow into a nut case, but I believe he is one already!
Here she comes, my sweet angel, our domestic helper, back from the market. Her face the colour of the tomato in her basket, her lips the colour of the rose I am touching right now. Oh how soft, those petals…her lips…her neck…her shoulders….her chest ….ouch the thorn!!
The blue blouse suits her so well. She is no ordinary helper but a model house maid. The kind of maid everyone loves to have in their houses, but for none of the reasons she is supposed to be engaged in my residence. Everything that she wears suits her, and I tend to wonder how long she takes from carefully selecting the right clothes to getting the right accessory to match them. “Hello, Mita.,” I said, my hand still on the rose and pretending to inspect the plant for weeds. I was frowning as usual to pull the muscles around my chin tight. Otherwise they may form a dangerous grin that would give away everything. She muttered “morning Resh, I will be watering the plants soon, don’t you worry, they are in good hands,” Oh dear, she must have noticed that I am forever looking for weeds. I looked at her sheepishly as she made her way briskly to the kitchen.
Mita came to our house the day I came home on my college summer break six months ago and while everybody else seems to be carrying on with their lives as usual, I found this period to be the most exciting time of my youth.
My heart pounding “doop-dup! doop-dup! dup-dup! dup-dup! dp-dp!” I followed her to the kitchen. No one else was at home. “Mita, could you make some coffee for me?” When she looked at me at this point I changed “me” to “us”. “Let’s take a break!”
“Resh, break from what, when I have hardly started on any work for the morning? OK, then, let’s have our coffee. Where is Nina? Has he taken his breakfast? I will ask him to join us.”
“Nina! Oh yes! He had his breakfast and coffee too when you were away.” I lied quickly. My younger brother is an insensitive being, and he will spoil the quiet morning, with his questions. Outside the summer was hot alright! The rain clouds have evaporated mid air, and I can see the blazing sun out of the window. But I do appreciate this heat for it seems to heat up the blood and sir up emotions that would otherwise be sleeping in the morning dew.
The heat descends on the house, on its walls and radiates from every corner! However there is just one source of radiation which I admire the most; that which comes from her chubby, creamy cheeks. One can hardly see it spreading in the Indian skin, but it seems magical when it appears, settling on her like some expensive make-up under the bronze skin.
Mother nature seems to be working hand-in-hand with her. Even the blessed sun has sprinkled his humble spray that gives her the shine on her face which on some others would create a slick of oil and emit a dirty smell.
While she went about her work, I sipped in the coffee a little at a time. Every time she turned I would shift my glance back to the news paper on the table. I was immersed in our world that had wonderful fish and curry smell and temperature reaching 70 degrees indoors! That is my rough estimation of the room temperature of 30 degrees, adding on to my body temperature of 37 degrees. I stayed at the table as long as I could, only vacating the place when my parents voices were heard at the main gate, quickly picking up my towel and dashing into the bath room just before they could catch me in the kitchen. It would be considered odd to be sitting alone with a girl who has passed her childhood. Everyone knows this, but Mita will never complain, about anything! She is humble but sensible. She just needs to be told once and she will know exactly what your expectations are and without a question, she will be at your service, with down cast eyes and a sweet smile. Just the right virtue for a servant, but too bad she has won my heart over too with her beauty. And only 26 days left before I go back to college. Exactly 26 days.
“For what?” asked a voice from my inner self.
‘26 days to tell her how I feel about her, dumb!’ I told him off.
The household was busy in preparation for pre dawn prayers. It was the eve of our New Year. Mita was asked by the family to stay for the night as it would not be safe for her to come to work before sun rise. After prayers and a good dinner, as it is in our tradition, all of us gathered at the top-most floor to sleep under the stars in the open after a long chat.
Every house has this open – air top floor, which my brother and I call the “topless top” floor. It’s mainly used for drying clothes and food items, lovers’ meetings, exchanging letters between houses, and for thieves to hop from one house to the next. It’s also purpose built for future expansion to another floor, a common trick to trap newly married children into moving in with their parents.
So we are there now! We, my brother and I lying flat on our backs – my brother watching the stars dutifully like he was told and me watching Venus seated just next to my parents; sipping hot milk – a compulsory night drink for all middle class families in this calcium depleted country from calcium depleted cows.
I need to tell her today, as today is the 25th day of my break and tomorrow I will be leaving for college. How to start? Shall I ask where she studied? “No, idiot! She will be embarrassed as she is no more educated than your brother!” said my inner self. How about, how is everything at home? “No, not tonight as that will remind her of home on New Years eve, dumb!” What’s your favourite food? I just recalled what my brother told me a few days ago, that a Muslim girl in the next street has promised to marry him if he will eat her mother’s favourite beef curry,” and that this request only sent him running home and avoiding her for the rest of the week. No, leave the topic of food and religion.
I waited for everyone to fall asleep before I called out to her, my sleeping beauty; “What is it Resh?” “Shh, just thought you will be interested in something I am going to show you. Come here.” I whispered. Feeling a little nervous, she moved to where I had my sleeping mattress. “Look at that star up there that shines like a ruby? Beautiful isn’t it?” She observed carefully, “Yes Resh! It sparkles! And it is pink! How pretty! I never knew there was a red star in the sky. Where did it come from?” I chuckled, partly because of the question but mainly because I had won her interest. “ I don’t know where it came from but it’s not a star! It’s the planet Mars, the red planet!
“How do you know? Do you go to the astrologers? Are you sure this is planet Mars? Why is it that no one has ever mentioned this to me?” More questioning, more enquiry, more star gazing, more closeness, more body heat, more heart beats, finally, more guts………..I touch her hand lightly. She doesn’t move it away to my surprise! It is dark, the only light coming from the stars. I play with her bangles noiselessly, next. She is silent suddenly but still didn’t move away. My hand moves up to her arm, after lingering there for a while I sense my body facing hers. I cup her soft cheeks in my hands. Her eyes are half-shut, her lips quivering, and my heart pounding I feel the warmth of her lips on mine. I have landed my first kiss on a women, safely! We then move away from our family to the hidden corner behind the power room. This little place is just right for us as it overlooks the big field. The cool breeze soothes our hot bodies. I stopped. In the stillness of the night I could only hear my heart beating. I lay back; my eyes now staring at the stars, my ears listening to her sobs. In spite of my elation, my heart is cursing my evil soul and my mind questioning my complacent inner soul mate, who didn’t stop me at the right time. Everything that shouldn’t happen has happened in a minute.
I turned to her “Mita” I whispered. “I cant say how sorry I am, but I can tell you how much I love you,” I kissed her on her forehead. In this country no one really grasped any understanding of Love. ‘Young men have only one reason to fall in love,’ they would say. ‘That is for the physical attraction.’ She has seen exactly this in me. How could she trust me – a college student from a middle class family, who the first time he touches a women makes love to her? I understand how she feels. I hold her tight, sitting up I rock her gently and tell her how much I love her, and that it’s a deep feeling which has been growing inside me ever since I first set eyes on her.
She stopped her crying and slowly dozed off in my arms. I dressed her up, covered her with a blanked and tucked a pillow under her head. Kissed her for the last time and went back to my mattress. The next morning everyone went about celebrating New Year. I wrote a long letter of apology and Love, promising to come back to marry her soon. Seeing her tearful eyes and quivering lips, I moved forward to give her a hug, but she pushed me away and ran to the back yard.
Six months after my final year exams, I came home for good. I knew Mita was still working in my village. I took the night train and reached home in the early hours of the morning. Lying in my bed, I thought through my summer romance. There was no way I could keep in touch with her without someone in the house finding out. If that happened they would stop her employment and the news would spread. She would not get any work in the neighborhood where every women is insecure about their husbands’ attitude towards other women
My parents already have in mind an arranged partner for me, as is our custom, but I cant accept that. I want someone who understands my sensitive heart, someone to share my feelings without having to tell them and that someone is Mita. She is a silent beauty but has got a thinking heart and brain. I know that. I can sense it without hearing her speak. I love her and will take care of her for the rest of our lives. I will educate her with knowledge that none of the girls in my society is capable of understanding and show them that my Mita beats them all.
The December rain is beating against the shutters in the balcony. Unable to sleep I go to the balcony to check. The wind is damp and heavy. The smell of the rain is so fresh, I take in deep breaths. This is the smell of soil that has been dried in the day’s heat and now as the water touches it, it gives out the smell in a condensed form! I sink into the easy-chair in the balcony and fall asleep to the constant humming of the rain and the cool breeze. I get up to the sound of someone pushing open the gate that is stuck in the garden soil, eroded during the rain. This always happens and my dad complains we lose soil to the neighbors every time it rains because our house is on a little slope. “Who’s that?” I ask, as the dawn is just breaking and I can’t see clearly. “Mita” came the reply and I almost trip over and nearly land among the plants as I run to her. “Mita, how are you?” She is silent. “Mita, what’s wrong? I’m back, like I said. Now I will tell my parents about us; if they agree we can get married or I will take you with me when I start work. I need you, and will take care of you and our children as long as I live! This is a promise !”
I take her hand and hold it tight against my chest. Immediately she pulls it away, like she has just touched a burning gas stove unknowingly. Mingled with the pain in her face I also sense a tint of disgust – like she has touched a slithering slimy snake! My heart recoiled in hurt! Which hurt the most? The look of pain in her face, inflicted by me or the disgust that she showed after feeling my heart. My eyes were flooded with tears immediately.
Only later in the morning, when my parents had gone out and she was free to explain, did I realize the reason for her hurt – she is married to her distant cousin and six months pregnant.
“You could have waited Mita! You should have told them you are not ready. You didn’t trust that I would come back to you, did you? How could you even think of having a baby with another man when you had just, for the first time in your life, experienced true love?
“I had no choice”, she seemed to say with her eyes, although her voice was stifled by her sobs.
I resolved not to accept the situation, all the more so when I learnt about her married life from my mom. Her cousin is an alcoholic who only wants Mita’s meagre earnings, he drinks them all away, and the only place she has to turn is to my family. We pitied her state and took her in again.
I hesitated to apply for jobs after finishing college, as I did not want to leave her. I have decided to be with her always, as promised. I started planning, looked for ways to achieve this and I found them. A job in a place where my father works came by and I took it. It worked out very well since we are in the same profession – Engineers. My life started. Watching over her and her growing child gave me so much peace that I didn’t want to look for my own life outside.
It’s been four years since that fateful night I told her my feelings; some may say the brutal night I stained her innocence. Mita is still with us, but now she is no longer the domestic maid, she is my office assistant. Yes, my Mita not only shines in her beauty but in her intelligence too. She works in the day and studies by night. Seeing her enthusiasm, whenever possible I will drag her to my office and show her the technology. Although, she was afraid of me initially, over time she understood my good intentions and began to trust me. We became friends – best of friends.
Time passes very quickly. The little lad, Beema, playing cricket in the garden was just crawling a few years ago, now he has grown so much. Beema is an intelligent boy. Mita brings him around everyday as there is no one to take care of him at home, she says. His father, whom I have never met, is hardly in a condition to differentiate the chair from his son and once almost sat on Beema and nearly crushed him, Mita said. His grand mother, poor soul, passed away a couple of years ago. Most of the time the child plays on his own or with the neighbors’ children when they are not in school.
One day Beema fell in a puddle of water where the children played their usual cricket match – with stick for a bat and a little rubber ball. I was on the “topless” top of the house – the open air floor, having tea and reading the evening news papers. I looked down, as I heard Mita’s agitated voice. From where I was I could see the back yard where the bathrooms and laundry area is located, children usually bathed at the laundry area. I could see Beema naked but only covered with soap. He smiled at me and fell silent as his mother was still nagging at him. He is such an adorable child, his big beautiful eyes looking even bigger in this thin, undernourished body. He doesn’t look like Mita, whose features are subtle, but his was all too prominent probably he acquired from his dad, whom they all say is rather big sized. Whatever it was he has this familiarity about him – like seeing someone from the past.
As Mita washed away the lather on his body, something caught my eyes – a birth mark on his right thigh. It is two inches long and one inch wide that I can see from where I was. I recalled my mom’s words, “that two inch birthmark is our family heritage symbol. Both my boys have them just like their father! And only I know where they are! She would chuckle every time she says that! I had mine on my stomach and my brother in a place that causes my mom to chuckle at the thought of it, and my father’s is also a mystery, but we know it exists.
I ran downstairs, caught hold of Beema by surprise and stripped the towel around him to examine the birthmark. Than I looked at Beema closely. He looks like me when I was about his age. It just didn’t occur to anyone of us as we don’t have those photos framed up. So it has been sometime since we visited the family album. Yes! The eyebrows, those eyes and the way he looks; all in the family. “Tell me the truth! How did he get the same birthmark as me ?” I held Mita by her shoulders and shock her! By now Beema, having been subject to close examination of his private area, was too embarrassed and has run to the room to get his trousers on. “What else have you hidden from me? Tell me woman!”
Mita, terrified by my unusual temper, started sobbing, “Resh, he is yours! I discovered I was pregnant and when I told my mother who the father is, she was too upset. She convinced me that this will never work out for us, as the rich would never consider a marriage with the people of our status and that this is a game all rich boys would play given the chance. She made me promise that the truth should never be revealed and quickly got me married to my cousin who is never sober enough to know anything around him, much less capable of understanding when he was told his son was prematurely born – which is not true. Resh, forgive me please, for not trusting you.
I hugged her and we wept like we have never before. Everything came back, our memories of the past, unexpressed love, suppressed feelings that were sleeping very long, pity, hurt, and just longing to be in each others arms for ever.
I have not lost everything after all. My life has a meaning again. I have a son to take care of now! I have discovered him. He has my birthmark! God is great. I have made a mistake once but I am not going to make another mistake. My Beema will go to an estate school at the Red Hill. This is a proper school for children of his age. My friend who runs a nursery there will take care of his well being. I will make arrangements immediately. When he is old enough I will put him in a boarding school and he will study, Arts, Science and Math like any of us….” “Resh, this is not what I wanted for him….” I didn’t let her finish, “Mita, I hope you understand that Beema is my son too! I love him as much as you do and at least give me this chance to be a responsible father, please Mita, I beg of you.”
Beema, went to the estate school at the Red Hill the following year. Mita, lives with us these days, since her husband has liver cancer and needs to spend most of his time in hospital. She visits him everyday, but he is not sane anymore she says. I visit Beema, every weekend and once in two months Mita makes a separate trip to see him. For the respect of Mita’s husband, we did not disclose the truth to anyone, even Beema. Only my friend who runs the schools knows the truth. God has answers. I leave it to him to get the equations right, because I believe he works in his mysterious ways.
