Again, you have woken up to ask where
the child is. How must it be when people walk out of your sleep into
the space behind your bed's headboard, pull at your bedsheet and say a few
words, argue vehemently and disobey you as youngsters do, then
disappear into the dark when the exhausted daughter -- you had less grey hair at her age-- standing in front
of you says, "There is no one, it is 3am, you are shouting in your
sleep." Poof, they are gone. But what about the child, you know
you saw the child. He might have walked out of the dream you had, the
one in which he would just not eat his idli, and wanted to run out
and play. Yes, the child does that often, hides behind the door and
dashes out when no one is looking. Catch him! He will hurt himself!
Banu! Oh what is this scarf that makes you hot, why do they make you
wear it. You cannot stand it, and it stops you from hearing the child
gurgle and call your name. You throw it aside. You walk to the metal
pot that your daughter has left by your bedside. The steady sound of
the jet on alumnium. The toilet is too far, too slippery, everyone
else says. You do this because you're scared, perhaps, or because
they are less confused than you and if they think this is better, it
probably is. Someone has come home, he sits before you. You pull down
the cotton nightie that rode up to your hip, you need that towel on
your shoulder. This man must think you're an old dishevelled woman.
But you bathed this morning, your hair is still slightly damp at the
edges. They said you had already had a bath and tried to stop you
from entering the bathroom. But you were not fooled. You washed. Then
you combed your hair with coconut oil, neatly tying it in a bun. This
man sitting in front of you looks familiar, but he is too old to be
your son. Your son is in school. Your son is surely a few years older
than your greatgrandchild that emerges from your pillow at night. He
does not have a French beard as this embarrassed looking man in front
of you does. Do you know who I am, he asks. As if it is a quiz, as if you did not feed five children and whack them when they asked stupid
questions. Has someone given this man a glass of tea? He looks bored.
The granddaughter-in-law tells him no one at home has slept. Why haven't
they slept? What is her name? She wears toe rings, the other granddaughter-in-law does not wear toe rings. Did you say
that aloud? She is smiling, saying yes. You know her today, but her face tends to suddenly become unrecognisable, and you watch a stranger making your bed, guessing she must be family. She speaks Kannada, not Tulu.
You remember that, and when you switch languages deftly, the French
bearded man marvels at your memory. You start to cry, to miss your children. You only want 25 rupees, why won't anyone give it to you? You don't have a penny, how will you pay for the bus ticket to meet your son? Shamu used to give you 300 rupees when he visited the village house. The man before you laughs nervously, asks why you need money when everyone is there to help. You wipe your tears, you've had enough. You say
you're sleepy now, your eyes are tired. Your daughter is in the other
room, why does he not go speak to her? She's out of town? Then who
served you your tea in the morning? She was young, yes, and spoke
Kannada. The daughter-in-law, that's what you call her, when you
cannot remember the name of the grandson she is married to. The
grandson, who tells you about big animals that existed centuries ago,
and that they did not all eat people like that movie you were staring
at on TV. You don't know, the movie was scary, and the people spoke
English. The grandson is growing a beard, which you do not like.
Yesterday when he came home late from office, he was annoyed at your
questions. The men in your family always had a short temper. Does the
school principal not ask him to shave? The granddaughter-in-law likes it?
Then it is ok. She must invite the older man for lunch. You would
have cooked a meal for him if you could stand long enough. He says
you are six years short of a century. What does that mean? You were
good at mathematics, but maybe you have forgotten. Maybe he is
confused. Anyway, he is leaving. You tell him you will visit him
soon, when his daughter is ready for marriage. From the balcony, you
watch him go. Is that a new car? He had a red one before. He has done
well for himself. You turn around, hold the wall, the banister, the
sofa, the bed, you sit down. The child is in Punjab, with his mother.
You will sleep a while and in some time, he will sit by your
headboard.
