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 ...

 “ Akka (transl.: ‘Elder sister’ in Tamil) come quick,” the knocking at my hostel room’s door was becoming loud and impatient.  “Who is it?” I answered, pulling the covers off my legs. It was one of those lazy-Sunday-afternoons. I had finished off my weekend tasks, had a hearty lunch - courtesy of the ‘Biriyani Corner’, spoke to my mom about the Sunday service and was lying down to watch a movie.  “ Akka it’s me Shivi,” she answered back. I opened the door.  “What’s going on Shivi? Are you okay?” I looked my junior up and down.  “Can you come out?” she asked, “It’s important.” I raised my eyebrows, there goes my movie time!  When a junior comes to see you, it’s mostly because of some guy problem or some homework issue or some gossip-misunderstanding-trust-issue between best friends – so that’s what I expected Shivi to tell me. Instead, she’d taken me up to her third floor room and opened the door, asking me to go inside.  “Oh my God,” the w...

  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...

  It was crowded in the banquet hall foyer. I was among friends and family – especially my cousins who I hadn't met in almost nine years. It was a warm day and I was happy. This wedding was probably the last of my father’s generation in my grandmother's family and it was a bitter-sweet moment or moments, I must say. I looked at my little sister – Jojo. She was smiling ear to ear as she greeted our relative one by one. This was one of those moments where we just hugged and hugged and hugged our people. My brothers were speaking animatedly over something they saw and the youngest pulled my sister aside saying, "Is that Ben Achachan (transl.: elder brother in Malayalam)?" My sister's eyes widened. "Where?" she asked. "There," he gestured towards the parking lot. He didn't look so sure anymore. "Jose! That wasn't nice," Jojo said. "Was that a prank?" she dug his ribs. "Ow!" he flinched and made a face. ...