Arriving- Work in Progress...
The conductor delivered the luggage on the street with a sudden menace that seemed entirely out of place in the soft lilac mellow of early dawn. Everything was subdued: the colours, the sounds of the street, the birds, even the raggedy paraiah dogs observed the goings on impassively, acknowledging the sudden screech of the bus and appearance of strangers with no more than the twitch of an ear. It was as if the peace of the fields the bus had passed on its way had extended its green tendril fingertip over the lips of the little town and hushed all of its sounds in that early morning. Not a sound, even the bus engine was quiet. The conductor clambered off the roof and joined the driver, they spoke a while and walked away. Suddenly Moshumi was alone, without even the disquieting presence of those foul mouthed men to keep her company in that dawn peace.
This silence was idyll for some, especially those who sought the tranquil lull of rural India as some sort of salve for their urban sores. They were the ones who'd had enough of the cities, who'd given up on the rush of every small battle fought in the city landscapes. Moshumi hadn't had enough. Infact, she had just about begun and had much to win. The steel hard taste of city success was still sharp and recent on her tongue and it had made her eager for more. This strange quiet was eerie to Moshumi's ears. She did not seek it. It signified retirement and pensions, inactivity and boredom. Strange. Until three years ago this place had been her home. Now, the absence of din immediately made her weary of Koshy.
Moshumi dragged the load of their luggage from its resting spot on the street onto the pavement and waited for her mother to return with transport. Her family lived on the other edge of town and since her father wasn't aware of Moshumi and her mother's arrival- it was meant to be a surprise- he hadn't come to pick them up. With no autos or mother in sight Moshumi began to get a little edgy. She knew the street well, she knew where her mother had gone scouting autos and still, the quiet set her nerves on end. It was the practiced yet sudden nervousness of a city dweller transposed onto the limited boundaries of a town. There was no sprawl, no activity, no desperate change for distraction, for cover. Here in Koshy Moshumi knew well how apparent things were, how earnest and truthful the people were. It wasn't as if Koshy didn't harbour its secrets or hide behind crafted pretences, it is the nature of people to do so. But the scale, the purpose, the noise and crowd of the city compared to this small town made its simplicity shine almost demurely in contrast. She knew it well and yet now, she didn't.
A silhouette appeared a couple of hundred paces away, someone walking towards her rapidly. In the city she would have been defensive being a lone woman on a quiet road with a stranger pounding the street towards her. And though she was unnerved by the Koshy quiet, there was no menace there. She wasn't defensive; keen on avoiding an early morning, pre-coffee and brush meeting with an old neighbour-yes, but not defensive. The silence was pervasive but never dangerous. The silhouette soon turned into a discernible shape, a face, arms swinging energetically, canvas shoes and cream coloured hair- Paiappa.
Moshumi watched as he walked vigorously; he hadn't noticed her presence. Seconds later when he did, his creased face unfurled in warm greeting, "Moshi! Ammu, when did you arrive?" His gruff voice had that tobacco softened edge, that strangely pleasant wheeze which old smokers often have. Paiappa owned the jewellery businesses of Koshy- a grand total of two shops- and considering the impotrance gold held in deciding the weight of one's carriage on Koshy's social ladder, Paiappa also held a position of high esteem in the town's scheme of things. He carried himself with a certain jauntiness despite his 70-odd years, derived perhaps from the casual and easy friendships he had forged with the women of Koshy on account of the gold business, or perhaps from the good fortune which his widowhood accorded him to make those very friendships. Because one could rest assured that if Paiamma had still been around, Paiappa would be as henpecked as they came.
"I just arrived Appa. How are you? How are the knees?" Moshumi asked. "Ha! They're alright Ammu. Past their expiry date but they're still holding me up!" Standing next to her on the pavement, Paiappa peered at the mass of Moshumi's luggage and asked, "Don't tell me you've come back for good! All these bags! Has your mother finally convinced you to come back to Koshy for good?" There was genuine alarm in Paiappa's voice. Although there were many, her mother included, who had reservations about Moshumi moving to the city for her post graduate education and then work, there were many more who were as thrilled as she was. Paiappa was one of them. "No, no. No such plans yet Appa, though Aai would much rather I quit and come back here. How is everything?" Moshumi asked, peering at Paiappa's face. He seemed older somehow.
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on 5.4.07 at 1:47 AM.
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