Maya Blue
Photo: Rijuta Pandey
Fiction: “Anyway, when your life depends on a thread, you learn to weave anything out of it. You can weave even the blue sky.”
“For the last five years, I keep having some dreams. In those dreams, I see an almost lifeless woman, alone, lying on the bed, with people knocking on the door but the door never opens. It never opens. Only my heart feels like it will burst. That woman is lying wearing a blue sari. Sometimes I see her stirring, trying to move towards the door but she fails. I feel like the person on the door is me, and the one who is dying is also me. Even this morning I had this dream. Then, I saw you. A woman in a room behind a door. But the door is open and the woman behind the door wants to live.”
*
Sakshi’s heart was racing. It had been a minute since she’d woken up, but she had been too afraid to blink since. Finally, she put her palm over her eyes and rubbed them. She sighed. She took a turn and now she was facing the mirror on the other side of the room. Her body had turned pale, and her brown eyes felt heavy with shock. She was heaving deep breaths, as if she had run a mile.
“Every morning, the same dream,” she mumbled to herself. She rubbed her arms and feet, which had turned suddenly cold. Goosebumps. She grabbed her entangled, curly hair a little harshly and shut her eyes, her eyebrows furrowed.
The phone lay on the table next to the bed. A notification appeared.
Message on WhatsApp. Akshat: We have to be out of the hotel by 9, don’t be late.
She looked at the message and then again into her horrified face in the mirror.
Another notification popped on her phone. Maa: It is Nani’s 5th death anniversary today. Don’t forget to go some temple and pray for her.
Sakshi took a deep breath. She had thought that Nani would have loved exploring this city. The city of her favourite colour. There is no point thinking about her. Sakshi sighed again.
For most of her life, Sakshi had lived with her grandmother, even more than her grandfather and her own parents. Then one day, Nani didn’t wake up. The dream had been following Sakshi ever since.
Sakshi was a photographer for a national newspaper. She had travelled to different places for her work but she hadn’t taken a vacation for five years. All her vacations had been with her grandmother. Since childhood, it was through this time spent with her that helped Sakshi gain this fascination: of the history, culture, people, stories, architecture, designs, colours of a city,
Sakshi hadn’t been willing to come on this vacation if it hadn’t been on her colleagues’ insistence. To Sakshi, it felt like a betrayal to her grandmother. But her friend Akshat had insisted and planned the entire trip on her behalf. “You need a break,” he had said. So, Sakshi reluctantly came with the group but she couldn’t get away from the pain of that blue in her mind.
She got up from her bed and looked out of her window. It looked like the city was reflecting the sky.
*
Small beads of sweat decorated Sakshi’s forehead. Her brown eyes squinted from a sudden burst of sunlight that had come out after a cloudy morning. She clicked a few pictures of the city sprawled in front of her eyes, just as their guide, Rakesh, called for her attention. “Wo safed mandir sa dikh raha hai… umm… sorry… You see that…What is it called? Yes, a temple-like structure from below the fort?”
Rakesh’s golden earring was gleaming against the sun. He seemed to be older than the rest of the group, with half his hair greyed. The red and green flowers printed on his white shirt seemed to have complemented the colours of city which he had driven them around this morning.
“Yes, yes, it is beautiful,” Sakshi responded. “What is it?”
“This is Jaswant Thada. We… hum jayenge wahan… we will be there… in short time.”
“Oh, yeah, cool,” said the other voices. There were six of them, almost all of whom had been eager to visit Rajasthan the instant Akshat had shared his plans with the office.
“This… this place is very special,” Rakesh continued. “You can see all the blue buildings, the blue city from… from here. As you can also see, all the houses… these buildings… a… around here all of them are blue.”
“We should hurry up then otherwise it would get too hot today,” said Akshat. He had already tied his messy hair into a bun and had upturned the collar of his yellow kurta and shook it to dry his neck.
The afternoon sun, now devoid of any cloud, was scorching, but the old woman’s room seemed immune to its solar forces. The room was painted in that same blue, the blue of the city. Sakshi felt as if it was embalming her senses.
Sakshi stood near the edge of the roof with her camera pointing towards the Mehrangarh Fort. “Sambhal ke madam!” Rakesh warned. “Please be careful, deewar nahi hai… there is no a… a … what do you call it? Fence, wall. You all can… click pictures, photos from here. The blue colour looks beautiful.”
A few people turned their backs and clicked a selfie with the city in the background.
“Aap apna phone de dijiye, main apki photos kheech deta hoon,” Rakesh offered. “If you want, I can click your picture here. You all…will…shall look good if you stand there.”
Almost everyone giggled at the compliment, and Shikha, who was trying to have everyone in the picture, handed her phone to the driver.
There was an old woman watching everyone from her room on the roof. Sakshi could easily tell that she wasn’t pleased to see these many people in the morning. She tapped her foot on the ground and rocked her body back and forth. When someone laughed, this old woman gave a startled expression and mumbled something under her breath. She was known as Biju Amma, Rakesh had said, and this was her terrace. It was a terrace of a big house but all the other rooms were locked. There was only one room that was opened and that was on the roof. Her room.
The woman was chopping tomatoes when everyone from the group began to leave. She put the plate on the cot and stood up. She was short and pudgy, with her flesh drooping low below her frame. Her arm fat and saggy breasts jiggled when she tried to stand up. Her blouse seemed to be a loose fit, and her knees seemed permanently buckled under her weight. She kept one hand on her thigh and other on her dupatta that was covering her forehead.
Before the group could get to the stairs, the woman said something aloud to Sakshi, but Sakshi couldn’t hear her clearly.
“Hey!” came her voice again. “Girl with curly hair.”
Sakshi turned to look at her. Biju Amma said, “Money, money.” She stretched her right palm out in front of Sakshi. She looked nervously at the driver who first shook his head but then said, “De dijiye. Boodhi hain. She is old.”
Sakshi handed her camera to Akshat and took out her purse from her backpack. There were only some ₹100 and ₹500 notes. She tried to ask the driver how much she should be giving to the old woman but he had already gone downstairs. She took out a ₹100 note and handed it to the lady.
Biju Amma took the note and touched it to her forehead. Sakshi’s gaze followed her back into her room. The afternoon sun, now devoid of any cloud, was scorching, but the old woman’s room seemed immune to its solar forces. The room was painted in that same blue, the blue of the city. Sakshi felt as if it was embalming her senses. There was only one bulb hanging from the ceiling and a closed window, easily visible from outside. There was a small stove placed near the door inside the room with a bag full of onions, potatoes, and tomatoes placed against it.
Sakshi watched her put the money in an iron box kept on her cot. There was a big picture of Lord Hanuman hanging at an angle; it was a black-and-white portrait, which made the deity look even mightier. There was a pot on the stove, with a bubbling white-coloured dish. The old lady sat down gingerly next to the stove and started stirring the pot. She waved her left palm over the pot towards her face, took a deep inhale, and chuckled.
The woman switched the stove off and put the lid on the pot.
Sakshi smiled to herself. It had been a long since Sakshi had seen someone so delighted with the process of cooking. Suddenly, she felt the urge to follow the old woman inside and relish that dish with her. Before she could make a move, however, she heard a honking from downstairs.
Sakshi couldn’t understand why, but it felt important for her to tell the woman that she was leaving. “Bye,” she said, waving a hand, but Biju Amma didn’t seem to hear.
When she made her way down, Akshay, frowned at her. “What took you so long?”
A little perturbed, Sakshi didn’t answer.
“Sakshi, you here?” he asked again.
“Yeah, I am. I just… I was just thinking about that old lady in the house.”
“Hmm… what is there to think about?” asked Shikha, who had been looking at a video on her phone. Shikha’s boyfriend, Rahul, stood next to her.
“Well, I was…” Sakshi started, “Nothing. I am fine.”
It was a somewhat rusted auto, making a resounding roaring and sputtering racket, so Sakshi could hardly hear her friends and their lively voices of discussion. She preferred it that way.
Their vehicle was an old, black Vikram auto-rickshaw. Two of Sakshi’s friends sat on the back seat, dangling their legs down from the open rear. With each speed breaker, they whoood and wheeeed forward. The rest of them sat inside, holding the iron rods above their heads to stop them from slipping off from the slippery leather covers of the seat. It was a somewhat rusted auto, making a resounding roaring and sputtering racket, so Sakshi could hardly hear her friends and their lively voices of discussion. She preferred it that way.
After a few more bumps and curves, they reached Jaswant Thada, their next stop. Rakesh parked his auto in the parking lot. The sun was directly above their heads. There were a few shopkeepers who were selling colourful puppets made with cloth. One of them put up a puppet show, with almost two-foot-long puppets dancing along to a folk song. Under the neem tree, a Manganiyar singer sat on a spread and sang along to another folk song while playing a violin-like instrument.
Sakshi began to record him on her phone.
“Madam, the instrument he is playing is called Kamaicha,” Rakesh said.
Sakshi felt momentarily startled. “Oh, you scared me,” she said. “What did you call it... Kamaicha… is it? Thanks. I also like the colour of his turban. Orange, like the setting sun.”
Rakesh smiled. “If you want, Madam, I can take you to the market later so you can also buy one. Maybe your friends won’t mind.”
Sakshi nodded at him. She took a ₹100 note of her pocket and kept it near the singer’s harmonium. The singer smiled and bowed his head a little in her direction. Then, she walked a few steps alone, up to see the white carved domes of Jaswant Thada, emitting a warm glow against the clear blue sky.
Sakshi sighed and lifted up her camera to her eyes. She pinned her eye to the viewfinder. When she focused on the monument, however, she found herself craving that white-coloured dish, bubbling in the pot inside the blue room. She clicked a picture, but remained frozen to her spot.
Her colleagues went ahead inside the monument, but Sakshi instead turned to find Rakesh, who had stopped for masala chana at a vendor nearby.
“Rakesh bhaiya…”
“Hi, madam. Apke liye bhi order kar dun kya? Sorry, you also want this? I can get one for you and your friends if they want. You go ahead I will bring it to you.”
“Oh, oh no, no, thanks. I wanted to ask you about something else.”
“Sure, sure, tell me.”
“I wanted to ask you about that lady to whose house you had taken us. Who is she?”
“Oh Biju Amma! Why? Unhone kuchh… Did… did she do anything while you… you were alone upstairs?”
“No, God, no! No, I wanted to know, does she live alone? Does she have a family? And why is her whole house locked? Also, Rakesh… you can talk in Hindi to me if you want.”
“Arre madam… Haan mujhe pata Hindi mein baat kar sakta hoon. But I am trying to learn to speak correct English. Bahut saare tourist foreign se aate hain yahan. Jaruri hai ki main achhi English bolun. Mera hi fayda hai.”
Sakshi smiled and said, “Okay, so tell me about that old lady, Biju Amma then.”
“She lives alone. Earlier, her son and bahu… I mean her daughter-in-law, used to live with her, but they used to fight a lot. Then, four years ago, they left. They live in Jaipur now. Her son has locked all the rooms to keep their stuff safe. The son… he comes once in seven-eight months to check up on her, but that’s that. She makes her living by asking money from tourists, if they come to her house.”
“And that is enough for her? She is very old. How does she manage when she is sick or something?”
“The neighbours watch… They keep an eye on her. I…I drop in every now and then with the tourists. She… well… she is not a friendly sort of lady. But she… she is like family for me.”
When she focused on the monument, however, she found herself craving that white-coloured dish, bubbling in the pot inside the blue room. She clicked a picture, but remained frozen to her spot.
“I have a request, bhaiya.”
“Yes, madam, tell me.”
“After you drop my friends to the hotel, can you take me to her house again? It won’t take long but I want to talk to her.”
“What… What do you want to talk to her about?”
“I don’t know, I just want to spend some time with her. We can take some food and have dinner with her, can’t we?”
Rakesh frowned for a while. After taking a deep breath, he asked, “Only you madam? Not your friends?”
“No,” she said. “I will go alone.”
Rakesh took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, madam. But please don’t be disrespectful to her. As I told her, she… she, yes, she starts yelling at people sometimes and it gets very difficult to calm her down. Koshish kariyega ki jaldi nikal jayein wahan se. Make it quick, please.”
*
That evening, as Sakshi’s friends were enjoying the Marwari folk music at the terrace of their hotel, Sakshi snuck out with Rakesh. Almost all of the hotel terraces were resonating with khartaal and harmonium, as folk singers sang on top of their lungs. Sakshi purchased three vegetarian thalis from a restaurant next to the hotel, and they were off.
Rakesh parked his auto outside the gate and told Sakshi to wait. “I haven’t told her that you’d be visiting her in the evening. She’ll be in a shock. Main jab bulaun apko, aap tab aa jana..”
Sakshi sat inside the auto until Rakesh called her from the terrace. This time, when she went upstairs, she was more conscious of herself. She put her foot lightly on the steps. It was the same house this morning, but it didn’t occur to her that she had walked into someone’s private quarters. Now, it was more than a tourist spot: it was a home, a place of personal stories. She walked to the room on the terrace, removed her shoes and left them outside of the room.
There was no pot on the stove. The packet of vegetables was still there, next to the stove and all the utensils were kept upturned, washed, and dried.
“May I come in?” Sakshi asked Biju Amma. Amma nodded. She looked a little flustered but told Sakshi to sit down on the only small stool she had. “Namaste… Remember me? I had come a few hours ago with my friends.”
“Namaste. But why did you bring food? I’ve had my dinner already.”
Sakshi gave the wrapped thalis to Rakesh. “Oh, it’s okay.” Sakshi said. “You can eat some more, or eat after some time. Whatever you like.”
“I don’t have many visitors. Rakesh, you will have to sit on the floor, or on the cot.”
Biju Amma tried to straighten the pallu of her sari after every couple of minutes, but soon gave up the effort. Her voice was coarse and breathy. She tried to clear her throat twice by coughing gently but it remained the same.
“Rakesh tells me you wanted to talk to me,” she said. “What can you gain by talking to an old, poor woman?”
Sakshi was taken aback a little by her straightforwardness. She’d found her hands fidgeting with her dupatta, but the question made her stop.
“Oh, yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I left the place. When I… I saw you living here, all alone in the middle of these beautiful yet abandoned old blue houses, I wanted to know more about you?”
“What is there to know about me?”
“Umm… err… Rakesh Bhaiya, he tells me that your family used to live with you but they have moved to Jaipur, and now you live here on your own. How do you manage?”
It was the same house this morning, but it didn’t occur to her that she had walked into someone’s private quarters. Now, it was more than a tourist spot: it was a home, a place of personal stories.
“Are you from TV? I know people like you come, take pictures without asking, write about people without asking. Then, you go and make money out of the stories and photos. And people like us get nothing in return. I will not say a word without money.”
Sakshi’s face grew pale. But before she could manage to say something, Rakesh cut it. “Amma, she is not a journalist… She is a nice girl who just wants to talk to you.”
“But how does it benefit me?” asked Biju Amma.
“Amma, I just want to talk to you.”
Rakesh bit his thumb nail. His eyes flickering from Biju Amma to Sakshi. Biju Amma looked at Sakshi for a few seconds, her gaze steady and fierce. She took a deep breath.
“Where do you live?” Biju Amma asked Sakshi.
“Gurgaon. Delhi.”
“Dilli.”
“Yes.”
“Do you live with your family?”
“No. I work there and I live alone. My family actually lives in Banaras.”
“How do you manage?”
Sakshi’s cheeks flushed. She didn’t have any answer. She began to rethink her decision to come to a stranger’s house. She heard Akshat’s voice floating in her mind, mocking her. What were you even thinking? Why would you go some place like that?
Biju Amma broke the silence. “When you make a living, you do it. Anyhow. At the end of the day, you want food and water by your side, and roof over your head. You live until you die.”
Sakshi nodded. Again, silence pervaded. This time Rakesh broke the ice. “I think we should eat first. The food will go stale and some things won’t taste as good as they would now.”
Biju Amma lifted her legs and sat against the wall on her cot.
“Amma,” Sakshi said, “please come and have some food with us.”
It was a glorious Rajasthani thali, an appetizing kaleidoscope of complementing colors. There was Mirchi vada, Rajasthani Kadhi, Gatte ki Sabzi, Gulab Jamun ki sabzi, a Samosa, Gehu ki Kheech, Jalebi, Bajra and Gehu roti, and Daal Baati Choorma. “Baap re,” Biju Amma said. “You thought this old lady like me could eat all this?”
Sakshi grinned and looked at Rakesh, who was marvelling at the contents and laughing. “Sach mein bahut zyada hai. Amma, aaiye na, please come and join.”
“Okay, but give me some of it on my plate, I cannot eat all of it. Only khichdi is suitable for a 70-year- old.”
After having devoured each item from their thalis, Sakshi and Rakesh washed their hands. Biju Amma put her dirty plate near the drain where she cleaned her utensils. “This was delicious,” she remarked and dabbed her mouth with her pallu.
Sakshi dried and her hands and turned to the old woman again. “I wanted to know about you Amma, about your life. How do you live here alone? How long has it been?”
Biju Amma considered her for a minute, “You gave me food, I can give you some words, I guess. You know my name. My real name is Bijaya Bhati. Before my marriage, I was Bijaya. I was 15 when my father married me off to my husband, Bajrang Bhati. He was 25 at that time.”
“You were married at 15?”
“It was normal at that time. Some of my friends and cousins got married before they turned 10. I was late, actually. It was a burden to my father.”
“You were born in this city?”
“No, no, I’m from Bikaner. I came here after my wedding.”
“In this house?”
“No, we lived in a very small house then. Did Rakesh take you to the Ghanta Ghar? Did you eat Shahi Samosa?”
“Ji Amma, I took them there,” said Rakesh. He sat outside the doorway, dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief.
“We used to live there, in Sardar Market. It didn’t have these many shops then. I remember the day that Samosa shop was opened. Actually, Bhati Sahab and I built this house b,rick by brick. When our first son was born, we wanted some place quiet and beautiful. Then, Bhati Sahab came to me one day and told me he had seen a plot. And one could see the entire city from there. I agreed and we bought the land. Gradually, we made all the rooms on the ground floor. But before the house was completed… Suddenly, one morning, he didn’t wake up.”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Sakshi.
A thick tear leaked out of Amma’s left eye and fell between the folds of her sari in her lap. Sakshi looked for water, but the pitcher was empty and there was no glass around. She shifted from her stool and gently tapped on Amma’s hand.
“Ah, I didn’t know I still have the memories of that morning.” Biju Amma fell silent for a while sniffling. “Memories. They don’t age sometimes.”
She dabbed on her eyes with her sari again, and coughed.
“That must have been so hard for you…” Sakshi said.
Biju Amma looked at her and said, her eyes suddenly glinting with pride, “I was 22. I managed it all.”
“After he was gone, I found out I was pregnant with my second son. Narendra. So, there was I, my two sons, and an incomplete house.”
“How did you manage?”
“I started working in a Bandhani factory. I wasn’t a skilled worker but I learnt fast. Anyway, when your life depends on a thread, you learn to weave anything out of it. You can weave even the blue sky. It took some time but my little family wasn’t sleeping hungry. This house was our dream. So, after four years of his passing, I restarted the construction work. This room we are sitting in—I built this.”
Sakshi looked around. Suddenly, each brick of the room came alive for her. She imagined how Amma must have brought the bricks, the cement and all the tools one by one to the roof. How she must have laid bricks over bricks and prepared a wall; how she would have painted the room; how with each stroke of the brush she would have missed her husband who wasn’t with her physically, but always with her in her thoughts; and how she must have gently caressed the floor after having laid down the stones realising that she accomplished what she had wanted. She pressed her palm against the rough sandstone floor and moved her fingers gently.
“It is beautiful,” she finally whispered.
Biju Amma smiled for the first time in the night. “How can it not be?”
“I know people like you come, take pictures without asking, write about people without asking. Then, you go and make money out of the stories and photos. And people like us get nothing in return.”
“Did tourists come at that time as well?”
“Rarely. I never encouraged them to come. I had two little kids to look after. I had to be their father as well. They were naughty and impatient. If more tourists had come, they wouldn’t have studied. Besides, I didn’t need money at that time from them.”
“So, when did you start welcoming them?”
“It was long after that time. Mohan, my elder son, was interested in the idea at first. You see, the city looks pretty good from the terrace. But I didn’t allow him. My younger son wanted that as well, but he got a job at a sari shop in Sadar Bazar, and soon, he lost interest.”
“So, what changed?”
“My elder son. He died in an accident. He was a tourist guide.”
Sakshi gasped and put both her hands on her mouth. “Oh my god, Amma, I am really sorry. How, how, how did that happen?”
“I am not sure. He was a friend of Rakesh’s. One day, Rakesh took me to a hospital where Mohan’s body… His body was wrapped in a white cloth. I was told he fell into the lake in the Mehrangarh Fort. He didn’t know how to swim and his head opened. Before anyone could save him, he…”
Now, Biju Amma began to gush with tears. To Sakshi, it seemed as if, with age, even tears didn’t lose their patience, as if they know that the pain has settled in so deep that no amount of time could heal it. One tear or a hundred—nobody would take their place.
Sakshi took Amma’s hand and caressed it. Callouses had settled in her palms, like silent yet brave battle scars. The coarse skin felt like assurance against Sakshi’s soft hands.
Sakshi felt like she’d traced her Nani’s palm, somewhere in another world.
Biju Amma coughed a little. Soon, her cheeks were dry. She rubbed her eyes with her palms and began to chuckle.
“You ask so many questions. Do you know how long it has been since I have talked and cried this much?”
Rakesh’s eyes were brimming with tears, too. “I didn’t know you would talk at all, Amma,” he said. “Mohan was a good man.”
“I am sorry Amma. I… I didn’t know,” Sakshi said. “If you want, I can leave…”
“No, no... I know how much I loved my husband and my dear Mohan. After he passed, it became harder to sustain again. So, I started welcoming tourists. I told Rakesh and other drivers and guides to bring people who are on tour. But I couldn’t ask for money right away.”
“Then…?”
“My younger son got married. My daughter-in-law wasn’t comfortable with strangers coming throughout the day. And I understood. But soon, we began to fight a lot over money. It wasn’t her fault. I was too strict about expenses. I made sure not a single penny was wasted anywhere. That’s how I had managed to survive. My son grew tired of our squabbles. I didn’t know when but I stopped living downstairs. This room became my abode. My hands and my eyesight were growing weaker. I couldn’t concentrate on my work in the factory. Bandhani is very fine and focus-demanding work, you see.”
“I can imagine. I saw today how fine and arduous it can get.”
“Yes, so I made a decision to let go of my pride. I began to ask for money. But it didn’t come right away. People don’t want to give money for a terrace. I didn’t have an option though. I persisted. And when all of Narendra’s friends moved to different cities, it was hard to stop him. He also moved to Jaipur. I hear that city has better opportunities.”
“Didn’t you want to move with them?”
“I… ah… I didn’t. I knew they were trying to get away from me. Also, I knew I was too old to fit in a new city.”
She imagined how Amma must have brought the bricks, the cement and all the tools one by one to the roof. How she must have laid bricks over bricks and prepared a wall; how she would have painted the room; how with each stroke of the brush she would have missed her husband who wasn’t with her physically, but always with her in her thoughts; and how she must have gently caressed the floor after having laid down the stones realising that she accomplished what she had wanted.
“Weren’t you afraid of living alone?”
“I have lived in this city all my life. What is there to be afraid of?” Biju Amma folded her hands and pointed it towards the portrait of Hanuman. “I trust him.”
“I meant… I meant, living alone for your entire life.”
“Ahh, that. I was afraid of it when I was your age. But not anymore.”
“How? Why?”
“Before I tell you, you tell me. Why do you ask about loneliness to a poor old woman like me?”
Sakshi lowered her gaze. She didn’t want to be asked that question. Although it didn’t come as a surprise to her, that in a forest of a stranger’s past do lie the trees of one’s own, no matter how unique and exotic they seem.
“5 years ago, I lost the centre of my life,” Sakshi said. She told Biju Amma about her dreams. “And today,” she added. “I saw a woman, yes old, yes poor, but happy with just her food that she prepared with all the patience and care. I wanted to meet the woman on the other side of the door.”
Biju Amma and Sakshi didn’t say anything to each other for a long time. The sound of crickets and Marwari folk songs floated into the room as invisible yet comforting strangers.
“I wanted to ask you where you found it,” said Sakshi. “The will, to accept everything… and yet be happy?”
Biju Amma supported her head against the wall. She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Life was tough. I was busy. Not that I wasn’t scared. I was. Each time life changed. I guess, my faith in my god protected me. I had a few friends but they got busy or passed away. I thought I would also not wake up one morning. But then, death follows everyone. Why bother? It will come.”
She paused for a moment, and then continued.
“With time, I also realized that being alone makes you feel lonely, only when you wait to be with someone. If you don’t give up the wait, you end up feeling lonely even when you are a part of a crowd. I was lonely for a long time after my husband died. I was a 22-years-old young woman with two hungry and fatherless kids. It was also a proof that I had loved someone once. I stopped waiting for that love, rather I kept reminding myself that I can give my love to my kids. I felt closer to Bhati Sahab more than ever that way. With that, you are happy with your pudding. And you understand the value of everything you still have, even if they are only the memories.”
Biju Amma said, “One day, I couldn’t remember the colour of his shirt the day he had died. I felt like I lost Bhati Sahab all over again. And then, a storm rose in my heart and I couldn’t get up from my bed for two whole weeks. I cried, cried, and cried. But at the end of it, I finally found a way to live.”
Tears streamed down Sakshi’s face. She kept looking at Biju Amma for a long time. The silence was broken by the vibrations of her phone. Akshat. She rejected the call and put her phone on silent.
The vibrations woke up Rakesh, who had been dozing off in the corner.
Sakshi said, “I think for the last five years, I spent all my energy to keep myself safe… but the cost of that safety was my own life that I have yet to live. I run away from the pain my memories give me. I thought, one day will come when all my pain will be left behind somewhere and I’ll be free. How blind I was? It was love and I kept the door locked. How can I even think of running away from all the memories that made me who I am?
They didn’t speak for a long time.
“You know,” Sakshi said, “this morning when I was clicking pictures of this city from this terrace, only one thing came to my mind. Maya Blue. Then, I saw you.
“What is that?” asked Biju Amma.
“Maya Blue is a colour, a shade of blue. It is known to be a resilient colour, resilient like this city, prepared by ancient people called Maya. Whatever they created, very little was left with time. One thing that endured everything was this colour. Countless seasons, unbearable heat, floods, and much more. It stayed like you. I was asking what kept your will to be alive. Now I know.”
Sakshi reached over to hold Amma’s hands once again.
Rakesh finally spoke, “Madam, it’s getting late. I think we should go. I have to go home also.”
Biju Amma said, “One day, I couldn’t remember the colour of his shirt the day he had died. I felt like I lost Bhati Sahab all over again.”
“Sure,” Sakshi said, tapping Amma’s hands.
“Wait, help me get up,” said Biju Amma. She tried to get off her cot, but her back seemed to have stiffened from this long sitting. Holding each of her hands, Sakshi and Rakesh helped her to her feet. She walked to the end of the room to a trunk, where she removed the cover from the top and lifted its lid open. “Just wait.”
After a few minutes of searching into the trunk, she pulled out a plastic packet. Looking inside, she finally said, “Yes, here it is. I thought I had lost it.” She came back in the light, under the bulb where Sakshi and Rakesh were standing waiting for her. She pulled out a blue cloth from the packet.
“In all these years, many people came, looked at the city from my terrace but I always felt like I was invisible to them. And it didn’t help that I had to beg for money every time someone came. Then, you came. For the first time in I don’t remember how many years, I feel like I can give too. So, take this.”
She was holding a cloth in her hand. Under the light, the shade turned a little greenish.
“Amma, what… what is this?” asked Sakshi. Surprised.
“It is a blue Bandhani on chiffon. Your Maya Blue Bandhani. I made it with my own hands. Many years ago. I have kept it safe for years. I thought it should be with you now. May your life always remain tied and dyed in colors.” Biju Amma’s eyes were brimming with tears again.
“Amma, how can I take this? This… this is priceless.” Sakshi gingerly touched the sari.
“Maybe. But not more than the memories you helped me bring back. I thought I had forgotten the smile of my Bhati Sahab. I didn’t know Mohan was alive, his smile, his walk, his laughter, his tears, everything was alive in me.”
Sakshi sobbed again. She wiped her face and hugged Biju Amma. “I will never forget this day and you. And I promise I will keep this sari safe, wherever I go.”
“I know you will. Now go and take care. May Bajarang Bali help you always.”
*
Rakesh dropped Sakshi at the gate of her hotel. She thanked him for his time. She offered him some money but Rakesh didn’t accept it. He told her that he would come back early the following morning, to take all of them to some other spots of the city.
“Madam,” Rakesh said, before leaving for the night. “Thank you for not treating her just like another stone of the Mehrangarh Fort. I don’t remember when I had seen her like this last time.”
Sakshi felt her shoulders were lighter for the first time in years. She looked at the entrance of her hotel. It felt like she was seeing everything for the first time. There were some people standing near the reception of the hotel. Akshat was reading a pamphlet, while her other colleagues were huddled around him. She was engulfed with a wave of gratitude when she saw them.
“Hey guys,” Sakshi said, “What are you all reading so intently?”
“Where were you?” Akshat asked.
Sakshi chuckled and patted on the plastic packet resting on her palm. “Just around, getting to know this amazing city. After all, it was you guys who had told me to get a break. So, I took one.”
They gazed at her with a confused star. “Pick up your calls next time,” Akshay said.
Sakshi nodded. “Do you guys want to take a night walk around the block? My Nani always told me if I wanted to know about a city, I should know how it lives its nights.”
***
Rijuta Pandey is a UPSC aspirant who has been trying to channelize her frustrations through writing short stories. When she is not studying or writing, she is running after the birds with her camera. Her first short story was published in Verse of Silence. You can find her on Instagram: @storyofapicklejar.
