STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

Special Treat ??“ Rajendra Pradhan

June 15, 2005

Today we are welcoming our newest writer for Storytime Tapestry, Rajendra Pradhan, writer # 216. He like Deepak Morris and Ashish Gorde is a wonderful writer from India who shares his thoughts and heart with us.  We are truly blessed to have him.

Meanings of some words appearing in the story

Kalyug = Indian mythology divides time into four ages, each one several thousand years long. Kalyug is considered the last in the cycle, a time when wrong becomes right.

Thali = plate, usually of stainless steel

Saree = a long wrapping cloth. Several yards of light material that is draped around the body by women in Indian sub-continent. Comes in two varieties. Seven yard long is worn with petticoat underneath. While nine yard long is worn with no undergarments.

Pallu = the end part of a saree that is draped over to cover the bosom.

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Kalyug ??“ a story of times

Rajendra Pradhan

It was a lazy winter afternoon in a sleepy town in the mid seventies. Men had gone to work. Elderly folks were enjoying their naps. Most of the ladies in this typical middle class colony were very much content to stay at home and care for their children and homes. Women had finished their morning chores, sent children to schools, done washing  and now it was time to enjoy some quality gossip. The era of television and soap operas had not arrived yet and there was no afternoon entertainment for the ladies. Instead, women of the neighbourhood gathered at Godakka's  house, and exchanged juicy tidbits about whoever happened to be absent that afternoon. They also brought  rice, wheat and pulses to pick stones from, but that was just an excuse for gathering.

There was good reason to gather at Godakka's house. Godakka's son was married last year and Godakka had her daughter-in-law Sunita at her command to make tea and occasionally even halwa for the gathering. They were mostly middle-aged ladies. Some of the older women had daughters-in-law of their own, but they were not docile enough to tolerate the daily assembly of their mom-in-law's chatty friends.

This afternoon, as always, Vimala was the first to start the proceedings. She was a close friend of Godakka. Both hailed from same village. And as always,  Vimala started complaining about her daughter-in-law, ???What should I tell you Godakka, after all this is Kalyug!???  As expected, other women spurred her on to share her reasons for this assertion.

That was enough for Vimala, ???Do I look like I eat a lot? This morning I asked for an extra spoonful of sugar in my tea. These girls from big cities! They don't even know how to make decent tea! My daughter-in-law Sushma put only three spoons of sugar in my cup. When I asked for more, she said I should get checked for diabetes! What nonsense! I never heard anybody getting diabetes from having a cup of sweet tea. I told her then and there, 'it is not your father's money that buys sugar in this house!' And to tell you the truth Godakka, her father is so thrifty! He gave my son only a motorcycle, when he could easily have given him a car in dowry.??? All women nodded and agreed that this is a fit reason for current times to be called a Kalyug.

Now it was Radhabai's turn. She was a middle-aged woman with no son of her own, and so no hope of getting a daughter-in-law. Instead, she delighted the audience with some steamy gossip about her neighbour across the street, the Joshi family. Senior Mr. Joshi, a retired govt. servant, was among the few old men in the colony who stayed home in the afternoons. His wife was also a regular at this gossip club but today a strained back explained her absence. This was good opportunity for Radhabai as she launched herself with vigour, ???Tell me Godakka, have you seen those beggar women who have started frequenting our colony recently????

???Yes. They are a nuisance really! My daughter-in-law used to give them leftovers from previous day. But then I scolded her. Why should there be any leftovers in the first place? Sheer waste!??? Godakkaa agreed. But Radhabai had something else up her sleeve, ???I heard these beggar women belong to a tribe that specialises in thievery. They spot the entrances & exits of our houses during the day while they beg around. And at night, their men folk come for the job.??? A collective gasp escaped from open mouths all around her.

Now that she had undivided attention of her fellow gossipers, Radhabai went on, ???And that old man Joshi always has something to give to a particular young beggar woman. Food, clothes, anything. The way she smiles at him!??? Joshi's was the only household in the neighbourhood where the son and his wife, both went to work. Joshi's daughter-in-law worked in a bank. ???I tell you, when senior Mrs. Joshi joins us here at Godakka's house, her old man is waiting for that beggar woman. As soon as she arrives, he comes downstairs and gives her something. I say there must be more to that than meets the eye. And these shameless women never wear a blouse you see!??? Radhabai said, in a hushed tone reserved for such choicest bits of gossips.

There was a round of applause for Radhabai as all women tried to get a word in edgewise, about how they too had these doubts about the old man and how indeed he had made some naughty gestures to few of them. While they were busy denouncing the old man, suddenly Godakka shouted pointing her finger at the window, ???Oh, look there! That blue shirt has vanished from the clothesline.??? Then she called her daughter-in-law,  ???Sunita, go & see. It must be the wind. How many times should I tell you to put those damn clips properly on those clothes? Sheer laziness!??? Sunita was not pleased with this rebuke from her mom-in-law, especially before the women from the neighbourhood. But she knew it was no use arguing with the old hag. She kept the thali of rice aside and  rose slowly. Adjusting her pallu, she opened the door and went outside to look for the blue shirt. Inside, Godakka started telling her friends how her daughter in-law needed constant supervision in household matters.

A moment later, Sunita returned with the report that the blue shirt was nowhere to be seen. Radhabai said, ???It must be those beggar women! They won't think twice before stealing a shirt left out for drying.??? At her remarks everybody rushed out of the house to see if they could catch the thief. And sure enough, they found the culprit. She was the young beggar woman Radhabai had just talked about.

She was standing at Joshi's gates and senior Mr. Joshi was giving her some food. She was not exactly young as Radhabai had described her. She must have beee about thirty or so, and she took whatever Mr. Joshi gave her and put it in a bamboo basket. Then before putting the basket on her head, she folded a blue cloth into a tight bundle and kept it over her head, to act perhaps as a shock absorber of sorts.

The women had caught the thief red-handed! ???Look, she has just put my son's shirt under that basket!??? Godakka shouted.  All the women marched ahead in a mob with cries of ???thief, thief, catch her???. Doors opened. Disturbed from their naps, the elderly gentlemen rushed out of their houses, followed by some children that were not old enough to go to school and some young boys who had bunked college. Mr. Joshi was startled. He just stood there. The beggar woman looked at the crowd and she understood her predicament. She turned away from the approaching mob, to run for escape.

But by this time, people from the other side of Mr. Joshi's house were spilling out of their homes and her escape routes were sealed. She kept looking back and forth as two mobs approached her from two directions. In a moment, the shouting crowd encircled her. But nobody dared go near her to snatch the blue cloth from under the basket on her head. They had all heard the tales of this beggar-cum-thief community and its fighting spirit.

The beggar woman started pleading earnestly that she didn't steal anything. She offered to submit to a search by anyone. But no one came forward for the task. After all, she was an un-touchable! How could they touch her for the search? Some boys and elderly men would have volunteered, had it not been for their mothers' or wives' eyes. Her ample yet shapely breasts covered by just the thin pallu of her saree didn't leave much to the imagination. Finally someone shouted, ???Call the police!???

Now the beggar woman truly panicked. She must have been aware of the fate that awaited young women of her tribe in police custody. She tried desperately to plead not guilty and reiterated her offer for a thorough search. But when no one came forward for the search, she paused for a moment. She went very still. And then, suddenly she threw her bamboo basket and the blue bundle down and started undressing!

She wasn't wearing a blouse or a petticoat underneath her nine-yard saree. In a jiffy she took off her saree and stood there, naked as the day she was born, waving the saree like a flag, to show that it concealed nothing. The crowd went silent, jaws dropped. Men tried averting their eyes. Children were astonished at seeing a grown woman naked. The young boys were having hard time not appearing to stare at this amazing sight. The women in the crowd just looked alternately at each other and at the naked woman.

Then the beggar woman picked up her basket and emptied its contents on the road. There was nothing in that basket but scraps of food, leftovers she had collected during the day. Finally she picked up the blue bundle of cloth and with one swift jerk, unfolded it. It was not the shirt of Godakka's son. It was just a piece of cloth, probably torn from an old saree. She folded it again and put it on her head, then put the now empty basket above it. She just bunched up her saree and without any attempt to conceal her nakedness, threw that saree into the basket, and started walking. Away from the women, she was walking towards the other side. The astonished crowd parted to give way.

She walked on. All eyes riveted on the hard muscles of her shapely back, rippling under a shiny black skin. Not a trace of fat there. As she turned and vanished at the end of the lane, no one dared look the other in the eye. All started a slow and silent return to their homes. Godakka and her friends turned back as well. This must have been the first time they had remained silent in each other's company for over five minutes, as they walked to Godakka's house.

There, just outside Godakka's house, sitting under the shade of a Neem tree, a cow was chewing leisurely on a piece of blue cloth. She had eaten most of the blue shirt and now was struggling with the collar.

Vimala turned to Godakka and shaking her head hopelessly, muttered ???after all, this is Kalyug Godakka!???

***

[This story is based on a true event that the author has witnessed in first person. He too had bunked college.]

Critiques invited.

Rajendra Pradhan

rajendrapradhan@gmail.com

I live in India and do business of construction plus software development plus IT training.

I am a published poet in Marathi, a regional language that is spoken in central & western India by about 100 million. English has been my second language as for most Indians. I also know Hindi & Urdu languages well enough to read and appreciate literature in them.

Apart from poetry, I also dabble in sculpture, photography and computer graphics. My Ryze page is at http://www.ryze.com/go/praj59

Rajendra Pradhan

The three large boxes.

Rajendra Pradhan

"Look mamma"! I hollard from the front door of our
living room.  There stood across the street on the
curb of our neighbors driveway three large boxes, I
gathered they were from new appliances that our
neighbors had bought.

My momma came and peered out the door, I looked up at
her and it was like we both had the same thought at
the same time.  We put our shoes on and both hurried
across the street momma grabbed the two biggest boxes
and I took the other smaller one.

We brought them into the back yard and set them all in
a row.  I looked at momma and said, "It looks like a
little town, can we decorate the boxes and cut doors
and windows in them"?  "yes of course", said momma. 

She went inside and then came out with markers,
scissors, and old curtains.  Me and my six brothers
and sisters started creating our own little town.
When we were finished we had a general store and two
houses, one for the girls and one for the boys.

Momma came to bring us some Kool-aid and check out our
master pieces, she was proud of all our hard work.
She of course added all the special little touches
which made them look real; mom was talented that way.

We were very poor growing up, but we were the only
family on the block to have our own little town.  We
played in those boxes all summer, until fall when it
rained and they ruined, as I remember those were the
best times of my child hood. 

All of us kids grew up having wonderful imaginations,
and we appreciate the little things in life.  My momma
now passes on her great creative ambitions to her
grandchildren, and they too are enjoying life more
fully, just as we had when we were little!

My thanks to my momma, and the three little boxes.