Swallowed in the Sea

The rain had ceased pouring. As the breeze went silent and the whiff of salty air brushed the underside of my eye-lashes, there fell a droplet on to my arm. I wondered for a while before I realized that it was just a teardrop that the wind took out of my eyes. I just could manage a wry smile, that, at least Mother Nature was considerate enough to wipe off my tears, if not my own mother. No, before you think that I was in some pain, let me tell you I was not in any sort of pain, hurt, sadness and sort of similar emotions that draw out the salty droplets out of our faces. My eyes welled up in helplessness and in unfathomable despair. Now despair is quite different from sadness or frustration.


The greens on the balcony were darker than the ones outside the balcony and somehow I thought maybe it’s quite true to what goes on inside us – there is more darker shade of everything when its inside of us, till the time we let it out. As soon as its let out there is the natural ‘white’ that makes your thought brighter, lighter and more cheerful. So it was natural that I thought I had to let out my thoughts, lest they take on a darker hue inside the depths of my heart. I need to bring it out and make them brighter. So here goes the story –


Had it not been a cliché, I wouldn’t have realized – but then it was indeed love at first sight. For a girl of my age, I was pretty much desensitized to the idea of even liking a boy. But then this boy was different from all the boys I had seen before and had come to abhor. I saw him perched up there on my grandmom’s left side of the hips, his head slightly tilted to his left and legs flaying in the air. He had black, round eyes and lovely black hair. His forehead had a sandalwood paste mark, a gold chain around his neck, wore a sleeveless top and white shorts. As soon as he saw me, he smiled and lifted his hand towards me and remarked, “Mol? Mol?” Oh yes, I fell in him love with him that very instant and ran towards him, grabbed him with my arms and planted an affectionate kiss on his cute cheek. A surge of affection engulfed me and I could not decipher what was the more stronger feeling wafting silently through my body – the motherly instincts or the sisterly craving. Yes, my brother, my cute little Achu had arrive that morning with my grandmother. She and my mom enjoyed my tryst with ‘siblingism' ;-)


I took him around the house and showed him the house. But I guess he was not interested much in that. All that he did was sit there and munch on to his shirt and look at me and grand mom and then again at me and then at my mom and then again grandmom. I could sense that he was looking at our grandmom for gaining a sense of security that she was there while he took a guided tour of the house. But what I couldn’t figure out was why he was looking at my mom in the same way!!! Well, not that she was his mother. Not that she stayed with him before or took care of him before.!!! He was her brother’s son and she was seeing him for the first time after they met when he was born. Grandmom had come down with Achu to spend a few days with us. This way we could have the mirth and laughter of a child in the house filled with adults.


His arrival changed things around for us. Before him, the usual silence of the house was broken only with the cacophony of the Idea Star Singer aspirants. Now we had a singer of a totally different caliber in our midst. Just that he was not going to ever sing paeans in praise of Bharathapuzha or lip Kaithapuram’s soulful lyrics just like our Vidyashankar or Sreenath of the music competition did. No, this guy was different. He could not floor any maiden with his smooth talk. But he could bring a smile to my face with the sweet, tender invocation every morning. Every morning he would see me sleeping in my room and come over to my bedside, put his cute little hand over my shoulder and coo, “Mol, wake, Mol wake !!!” ( Little One Wake up) How could a girl not go all weak in the knees when such a cute little bundle of joy was waking you up every morning with the sweetest rendering of the Malayalam word “Mol”. I admitted to my mom that I liked him calling me “Mol” better than she. She just laughed.


Slowly everything in my house started revolving around him. I and my dad shifted into one room for the night and Achu, grandma and mom slept together in my room. He was naughty and kept on doing some mischief or the other which at first was cute, but then slowly it started getting on to me. I mean he just wouldn’t listen to anyone even if you rolled your eyes and gave him the angry stare. If he wants to topple the plate on the table, he will do it no matter how many times you scold him. He will spit out the food, no matter how many times you plead, beg, cajole, and scold him to have just one morsel. But to my chagrin my mom finds all this very cute and keeps on pampering him. I like a responsible adult taking care of the child scold him whenever required and also at the same time shower my love on him. Then why can’t my mom and grandmom also do the same. Why do they have to turn a blind eye to all that he does?


I am the only daughter of my parents but I have never been selfish with sharing my possessions with anyone, be it my cousins or my friends. I have always wished I had a sibling and always wished I had someone to share my things with. I am that sort. But then why was I getting a bit unnerved with the attention that he was getting from everyone. His feet never touch the ground, can you believe it??? Always is perched upon my mother or grandmother or my dad. Now aren’t kids supposed to run around the house? Whatever happened to “Happy Feet” and stuff? I took good care of him and kept a close watch on him lest he get into some kind of trouble. The other day he ran away to the balcony and was standing near the ledge trying to look at the view below the 8th floor. I saw him going and followed and caught hold of him before he fell off from the gap between the railings in the balcony. Now where were the ever-loving mom and grand mom when he was getting into trouble? It was me who saved him. And yet it was not noticed by anyone. How I craved for some appreciation that day. I wanted mom to tell me that I was a good girl and that I took good care of my baby brother.


Being the only daughter maybe I took many things for granted. The attention, the love, the appreciation on doing something well etc. Now when all of this was being diverted (as per me), to another person, I was getting jittery. No, I was not jealous. I was not becoming possessive of my parents’ attention or love. Far from that. I was just wanting my share as well. That’s all. Maybe my mom forgot that I too was there at home after my months of rotting in the college hostel. With my hair open, I wanted to sit near my mother’s feet and rest my head on her knees. Her fingers running through my hair and touching my scalp, the warmth of her touch percolating through the pores of my scalp and entering the unknown recesses of my mind and smoothening the frayed nerves. I wanted to have my customary 5 pm tea with her , sit there with our cups and talk about just anything under the sun – my hostel life, my grades, her embroidery, her classes, her friends’, my dad, our house back home, our neighbours, the new Mamooty movie, the Star singers, the Manasaputris of Mallu soaps, so on and so forth. I miss those bonding sessions with my mother and those silent and yet satisfying dinners with my dad sitting next to me and eating silently. I love feeding Achu and he tugs at my bosom whenever I am feeding him and again a surge of motherly affection overcomes me. I can never thank him enough for making me feel like this each time he comes to me. I bite at him because he is so irresistible and so yummy and yet as soon as he wriggles out of my arms, I get this tinge of anger. Anger at having lost him for a moment and anger at him for going to my mom and dad for attention that he gets a bit too often to my liking.


I feel my space has been invaded and yet ironically I want to share my same space with him. how do I explain this feeling? I love him and yet fear that he is loved too much !! I want him and yet feel he is wanted too much. All visitors to my family fuss over him and give in to his whims and fancies. I find it too difficult to keep a frown away anymore and pour out my woes at night to my beloved and all he can offer is a laugh. That insensitive bugger thinks am jealous. When will guys understand that we girls get jealous only of other girls! Achu speaks to him on the phone and calls him “Maman”!!! Oh how sweet ! I wrap my arms around Achu and plant a wet kiss on his cheeks. He runs away in disgust banging the phone on the bed. So I get back to my guy and pour out my woes at being jilted even by that kid. Anyways he offers me some nice words which would have sounded corny any other day. Now that I was not getting anything of that sort from my mom, grandmom or dad, these cheesy dialogues from the guy were lapped up in delight. But then it still could not take away the feeling of despair at having to hang up the phone, ‘cuz Achu happened to wake up crying at midnight. Lights come on in the house and suddenly nobody notices that I am sitting on the couch in the living room at such a late hour.


Days pass by and so do nights. My holidays are soon going to end but I do not see an end to the situation at home. I somehow hate the prospect of going back to hostel and yet staying at home seems more irritating with all this paraphernalia. How I crave for that nook of silence, that unhurried pace of household chores, the careless abandon of ‘not being responsible’. I want Achu and his delightful presence and yet I want him to disappear at my own will. I want the sound of his laughter to waft through the house and yet want the silent air to come and kiss my cheeks with affection. What is going through my mind and heart, I can’t explain but all I can say is that it’s not jealousy but its uneasy. As I stand here in the balcony of my house I wonder if bringing this all out will make me feel brighter and lighter. The breeze brings with it the travails and tribulations of the turbulent seas of the Arabian and the same turbulence percolates from my insides to maybe form a confluence of such emotions. Maybe the sea is turbulent ‘cuz of all this. God only knows ! and God only knows and yet keeps silent ! But I know that Achu is the best thing to have happened to me for a long long time and it gladdens my heart at the same time that when I finally go back to my hostel and am taking my slow walk back after class, the one thing that I would mutter to myself is, “Achu ma, how I wish you were there to welcome me when I get back. Yes darling brother, I MISS YOU LOTS :-)

(I tried out this piece in first person with a female protagonist. Hope you find this story/article/piece interesting. love, Anup )