Footprints

     I am in the middle of writing an essay for my supervisor when a WhatsApp Group Video Call notification vibrates on my desk. I look up from the randomly splayed, unstapled sheets of paper to see my roommates calling. I pause the Malayalam Lofi playlist I was listening to, remove my earbuds and rush out of the room, unable to contain my excitement. They'd gone home for the weekend celebrations while I had chosen to stay back for work. The next ten minutes zip by fast with the three of them telling me how busy it is with preparations for the mouth-watering sadya of the day and showing how they've successfully managed to create beautiful pookkalams (flower arrangements). They log off one by one and I sit near a plant with a bright red flower, gently stroking its petals - not having the heart to pluck it and make a minimalistic last-minute pookkalam of my own. I am taken back to last year's Onam when it had been a sunny day with the kind of weather perfect for hanging a ...

14.2.2012, 8:45am      From a very young age, he'd learned that princesses never married kitchen boys, and he firmly believed that there was no such thing as love. 'Why?' you may ask; because his mother, the purest form of love he had ever known, loved his father, but that love wasn't enough for him. His father truly loved the other woman, but it wasn't enough for her. Both of them loved him, but it just wasn't enough for them to stay together. The only love he knew was the way his mother sang him to sleep, the way he used to bite her cheeks in return, the way they danced in the rain, and the way he lit a candle in memory of her, every February 14th.  Now, as he hugged his grandmother before leaving for school, as far as he could see, the stores on the street were decked in red. From ribbons to curtains, from banners to tiny heart-shaped stickers stuck on huge glass windows, and from gift hampers to chocolate wrappers. 'What is with the whole Valentine's...

  The clanging of a bell woke me up with a start. Sitting up hurriedly, it took a second for me to register that it wasn’t the prayer bell that usually rang at 5:45am; it was the campus bell that rang at 5:00am. Breathing in, I picked up my phone off the floor and pushed the power button – it didn’t light up. I blinked twice and tried again to no avail. Trying not to think of it too much, I plugged in the charger into the C-port and waited, yawning. A few seconds later, the image of a battery with green bars slowly rising to its top popped up on the screen. Shaking my head, I realized that I hadn’t charged my phone the previous day; and if it wasn’t for the bell that had made me get up half an hour early, I would’ve overslept and gotten late. I murmured a ‘thank you’ and grabbed my toothbrush.   Two hours later, I was at my desk in my room, clad in my Wednesday-best, jotting down the tasks I had to finish before 5:00pm that day. The unexpected pats on the back and greetin...

  “Ma!” I was getting tired of arguing with her. “I don’t want to get involved with this now.” A joke at the family tailor’s boutique earlier that day had turned my afternoon sour. The Aunty had suggested that it was ‘about time’ that I left my parents’ house. Although Ma had responded calmly at the time, she was quiet the entire drive back home and I had braced myself for the storm to come. Sometimes, it even seemed that just like me, my parents were conflicted – about letting me realize my career dreams and worrying about when to make ‘that’ decision. Age ofcourse is just a number, but it doesn’t stop or slow down for anyone. So, when Ma had asked me about my thoughts on that comment made at the boutique, I had told her ‘not to worry’. Unfortunately for me, those three words flipped her switch.  “Why? Do you have someone?” she asked.  I looked at her, hurt. “Really? You think I’m already out of that mess?”  “I just don’t want anything good to slip by, while we ...

  “Ma, she’s running all over the place!” Jo was finding it hard to speak.  “What are you saying?” Jo’s mother was squinting and covering her ears, “I can’t hear you.”  “Wait, let this be over.” Jo tilted her head towards the window. Her mother nodded back. Then came a three second window and Jo all but shouted rapidly, “Ma, Ali is running all over the place, kya kare (transl.: ‘What to do’ in Hindi)?”  The feline was running from one corner to the other of the house, trying to stay away from the side where the most noise was coming from. “Let’s close the windows of that room and put her there,” Ma pointed towards the one room in the entire house that wasn’t habituated.  “But it’s too dark and she’ll get scared even more Ma,” Jo complained.  “Jo, whatever you say, she’s not getting into your bed tonight,” her mother paused before continuing, “and neither are you sleeping with her in that room.”  “But Ma, she’s frightened. Have you ever seen h...

  She looked at the clock on her studio wall. 09:55pm, it showed.  ‘You still have time!’ the Heart said.  ‘To do what?’ the Head was still wide awake after a tiring day of online submissions, lengthy webinars and writing reports.  Logging onto the Facebook App, her eyebrows snapped together when the newsfeed showed her that it was the birthday of one of her favourite actors.  ‘You should’ve noticed it today morning – the entertainment column was displaying his movies to be played on TV all day!’ the Head shrugged.  ‘Yeah, well she was focused on work,’ the Heart justified her – not that there was anything to justify about. She was definitely not one of those people who celebrated the birthday of celebrities – well not all; maybe some!  ‘Thank you Heart,’ she said and smiled. She knew exactly what to do for the two-and-a-half hours till bedtime.   X-x-X  “There you are,” she said out loud. Ten minutes had gone by as ...

 "Baba, wake up. How many more times do I have to wake you up after switching off your snooze?" I woke up hearing Amma's voice. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up on the bed, yawning.  "I'm up Ma," I called after her.  "I told you I had a feeling yesterday na ?" Amma asked. I frowned and swung my legs to the floor. Walking out the bedroom, "About what Ma?" I asked her.  "The Metropolitan (the highest authority of the Mar Thoma Church)." She said.   My eyes widened. "No."  "Yes. Early morning today." She shook her head. I looked over at Appa typing furiously into his phone.  "Good morning Pa," I said. He looked up.  "Not such a good morning," he said. I smiled wanly. Ma was serving the customary morning tea before prayer.  "I'll just come," I told her, grabbing my toothbrush and smearing it with Colgate.   The cool water on my face pulled me out of my morning blues. I stared at myself ...

  This has always been a frequent question in our household. Be it a piece of cake, caramelized fried banana pieces, halwas or the simple chocolate chip ‘Hide and Seek’, we loved to indulge our sweet teeth. I guess you can say it runs in the family – ofcourse, so does diabetes but, no this isn’t about ‘that group of diseases that result from too much sugar in blood’ – relax.      Mid-morning      “What’s for sweet today?” asked Abu.  “Well, if we hadn’t gobbled up that cream bun yesterday, we could’ve had it for today.” Anu scowled at him. “Okay,  do not  tell me that you  did not  want a bite of that awesome snack last night,” he smirked at her. “Fine; never mind,” she said, trying not to give her brother the satisfaction of her being his partner-in-crime again. “Let’s just think about today. What do you want?” “I’m craving chocolate cake – the real kind and not the one with the curd and stuff,” warned Abu, “t...

  T erms and Conditions Apply   The phone was ringing.  The shrill sound echoed throughout the ground floor. It had an eerie ring to it. Mostly because the flooring was entirely made of white marble tiles but also because, we weren’t expecting calls anymore. We heard Appa pickup. I nudged my brother and he nodded reassuringly. He was never the first-one-to-freak-out types anyway. “No Ma’am, none of us have left the house,” Appa could be heard . “We thought it was better to stay inside rather than go outside and get infected or infect others,” Appa sounded calm. Then, some moments of silence, followed by, “Oh, yes please I’d like to have a copy, just in case.” The suspense was killing me; I put down my phone on the kitchen counter and walked, more like  nearly skipped to Appa ’s room. Amma and Abu followed suit. When I entered his room, Appa seemed relieved. I raised my eyebrows at him. “What?” Appa asked. “And?” prodded Abu. “Results will be mailed.” ...

   Incubation  I had put it there.  Appa ’s frown between his eyes disappeared. “So?” I blinked twice. “So? That Aunty was the one who gave me that envelope. She’s the one who tested positive right?” Appa shook his head. “No, no. She’s not the Panchayat member I was talking about.” “What?” My voice was unbelievably calm. “Yeah. This one is someone else.” Appa said dismissively. “But she must’ve given it to this lady and she’d given it to me na !” I wondered out loud. “The local health official had called me yesterday and had described everything,” he said affirmatively. “The one who tests positive is the primary case. Everyone who comes into direct contact – as in within less than 6 feet distance or remained in close proximity for more than 10minutes to her becomes secondary.” He pointed a pen at me. “So YOU become tertiary, while I am mostly a secondary case.” Oh. I didn’t know how to respond to the lengthy truth Appa had just told me. “Do yo...

  The Envelope    “Hey Dad,” I barged into my father’s office room, all excited about the big sale that was happening on Amazon. “Have you seen these bass buds? They look so…” my voice trailed off. Appa , leaning on his reclining chair, looked up at my face when I entered his quiet work-from-home corner. There’s something in his eyes that is amiss , I thought as I stopped mid-sentence and stared at my parent. “Objection Your Honor, there is something wrong with the defendant.” I said. “What makes you say that?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Well, for one, you’re not irritated by me barging in on you while you’re working,” I smiled, “and that doesn’t happen too often, you know.” “Objection over-ruled,” he smirked. I narrowed my eyes. He straightened himself and I braced myself. ‘Oh, I have a bad feeling about this,’ my heart said. ‘Shut it!’ my head hissed. “It turns out,” he began, “that one of our church members who was present at a meeting last week has tes...

  August 2007  2:00pm    I stared at my mark sheet. Eleven-and-a-half on thirty it read in red ink at the top of the papers I was holding in my hands. My eyes stung. Keep it together! The noisy classroom did nothing to help my emotions. I looked at the supposed embodiment of knowledge near the blackboard. After giving me an earful, she was now pulling the ear of a fellow classmate. A bright orange saree with a sequined border, a larger-than-her-face bindi (transl.: ‘a decorative mark worn in the middle of the forehead’ in Hindi) and big spectacles on her nose completed the scary teacher look. Ofcourse she wouldn’t have meant to look scary but that is how my history teacher looked to me, then. “Did you pass?” My best boy-friend pulled my hair from behind. I glared at him and his grin vanished into a pity smile. “Sorry Dude!” he patted my arm. I shrugged. “She gave the topper three marks and me half-a-mark for the same answer Da. ” I shook my head again. “I wo...