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The Journey

He was nervous. He had been mulling things over for the last few days and every time he thought about it, he felt a tingling excitement mixed with something bordering fear. All of his friends seemed to think he was being stupid. How did it matter anymore? Did he think he could change anything now? And yet, he had always been different from his friends. Passionate and bashful, he never did anything after calculated thought. He found that every time he brooded over anything, it made his life more complicated and he ended up going along with his gut feeling anyway. He decided.

The first time he thought about this was when he overheard his parents talking one night after they thought he was asleep.

“Ramakrishnan has sent me a message. Krishnaveni is 15 years old now. They want us to make all the arrangements for her to be accepted into our household.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! My daughter-in-law will finally come home!”

Of course, he knew whom they were talking about. The girl whom he had “married” when he was 11. He knew about it, of course, he even remembered the actual ceremony that had taken place. He had vague recollections of tying the knot around her neck, but what he vividly remembered was the jangris that he had guzzled nonstop without anyone even trying to stop him. He found it strange at the time that a boy who used to be berated every single time he touched a sweet was given such a free rein on this day. Must have been the girl. Did she say something to them?

He just never thought of it as a real thing, never once imagined that the marriage that he saw others living in, would be connected to him through the ceremony that happened 7 years ago. But now, he knew. He kept tossing and turning that night, trying to at least remember the face of the girl who was his “wife”. It felt strange saying those words. Even in his head. And then he was overcome this urge to see her once before he could fully accept her. This was unheard of in his family, if his father ever came to know, he would probably be whipped within an inch of his life.

And yet, he went to sleep peacefully that night, thinking he would somehow devise a plan to see the girl before she came to be a part of his family. The next morning, he put forth his proposal to his buddies. They all burst out laughing at this seemingly ludicrous desire of Subramani to see his wife before she came to his house. He had always been a little impulsive, but this was pushing it. They then sat him down and told him all the cons of ever being caught trying to do something like this. He seemed a little doubtful, but he promised to at least think about it.

And he did think about it. Was it his fault that every time he thought about it, he became more and more convinced that he had to see her and speak to her at least once? Once his mind was made up, he settled on a plan. He told his friends of his decision and they wanted no part in this. But he managed to convince one of them to at least be his alibi in case anything went wrong. He knew how much risk he was putting his friend in, but what had to be done had to be done.

And so, he came upon the road going to Pattukkottai. His nervousness was reaching a crescendo now, and the day was hot. He had no idea where she lived, but his plan was to stop someone on the way and ask them where Pattukkottai Ramakrishnan lived. Judging by his title, the man had to be pretty famous in his village and someone would surely be able to point him in the right direction. If people asked any questions, he would simply say he was a government official from Thanjavur. With his attire and his sophisticated air, he thought he could be very convincing.

He didn’t really run into too many problems, his journey to her house was smoother than he expected. Now came the tricky part. He obviously didn’t want to meet her father, or for that matter, any member of her family. He needed to see her alone and speak to her for a few minutes. So he went around to the back of the house where he knew the ladies of the house would be doing household chores. He also knew that since it was about a half-hour to lunch time, the older women of the house would be in the kitchen, cooking, while the younger women (including daughters-in law and nubile daughters) would be in the backyard, washing clothes. Fortunately for Subramani, Ramakrishnan only had 2 daughters and the elder one had already left for her pukkaam or her husband’s house.

So the only girl in the backyard, washing clothes was his Krishnaveni. The minute he set eyes on her, he knew all his fears were unfounded. She did not, in fact, look like a scarecrow. She had a full, voluptuous body, her olive skin was glowing in the sun, while drops of water intermingled with sweat from her labor glistened on her cheeks and arms. Her eyes were the deepest black and her mouth was a natural pout that seemed to increase her beauty manifold. She had worn a beautiful green saree and bangles to match. Her forehead was dotted with a red kungumapottu. She had a pair of golden jimikki in her ears that danced to her every movement. She looked as if the goddess Mahalakshmi herself had descended from the heavens and decided to walk into his life. And while he was standing there, mesmerized in her beauty, she spotted him. A look of fear crossed her face and she made to drop everything she was doing and run inside.

 

He knew what she was about to do and yelled out her name in time to stop her. Then he set out to explain himself and his inappropriate behavior.

“Krishnaveni, do you remember me? I am Subramani, the 11 year old boy you were married to almost 7 years ago.” Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to say, “your husband”.

She still looked skeptical but she didn’t attempt to leave. He went on.

“I know you think I am crazy, but you must have heard talk of you being sent away to become part of our family in Pulavanji. Well, I needed to see you once before you finally made your entry into my home. And trust me, you are every bit more beautiful than I had ever imagined you to be!”

She seemed mollified by this last statement, and he did say it in all earnest.

“Well, I was hoping I wouldn’t be the only one talking. Didn’t you ever feel like seeing me?”

At first she seemed very shy and unable to form a sentence in her mind. But then, she opened her mouth to speak in the most lilting, melodious voice ever.

“Umm.. No, not really. Appa said that once he received word from Pulavanji that all the arrangements were done, I would be leaving. I never really thought of doubting my parents’ decision. But I must say, I am glad you did come to see me.”

At this she smiled and her teeth looked like a string of pearls. And then a woman’s voice came sailing through the open windows in the house.

“Krishnaveni! Lunch is ready, come inside. You can do the clothes later. Hurry!”

She looked at him and said a rushed goodbye and went inside. She seemed to be gliding rather than walking, such was her effect on him.

He was supremely happy at his decision of having come to see Krishnaveni and decided to go home. As he turned out of the alley leading into the main street a voice arrested him. His heart sank.

“Hey, Subramani, aren’t you Chandrasekaran’s son? Do you recognize me? I am your father’s cousin Gopu. In fact, I am on my way to see your father today, why don’t you come with me……..”


P.S.: The painting is Raja Ravi Varma’s painting ‘The Milkmaid’. I have always found Ravi Varma’s women to be classically beautiful. I could only think of the women in his paintings when I thought of Krishnaveni.

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Comments on: "The Journey" (12)

  1. alice-in-wonder said:

    theres a classic touch to the story… I can almost see it happening. Very beautiful.

  2. Krishnaveni’s description is captivating. Brilliantly done! Ravi Varma’s paintings are among my favourites too… They are hauntingly honed and riotously colourful at the same time, aren’t they? Nicely written 🙂

  3. nice gurl..i didn’t know u were into writing stories as well.

    n yes! the paintings are beautiful..I’m thinking he captured the best of women during his times!

  4. very well written…and the descriptions are beautiful…just like the paintings that inspired you.

  5. very, very nice.
    justifies u having a blog, actually… this piece.
    🙂

  6. Lovely tale.. and great picture to match. Ravi Varma was brilliant!

  7. @Preethi: Thank you. 🙂
    @rayshma: Wow, must be really good, if it got THAT out of YOU.
    @pinku: Thank you. The paintings are truly moving.
    @pavi: Ohh I am, you should check the posts under the category “life’s… fiction” as well. Some crappy stories hanging in there. 😀
    @Rahul: Thanks man. I have always thought so myself. 🙂
    @alice: Thanks babe! 😀

  8. Aren’t you the same woman with phd and stuff like that? And now you go ahead and write this amazing piece? That does it..You are way outta my league!!! Seriously, a very well written tale..:P

  9. i didn’t know you wrote…stories i mean…
    this is really beautiful…publishable [if you had a few more :)] into a book..
    keep writing..

  10. @LOTS: no phd for me.. decided to end all the studies with a masters. 😀 and, yeah right, i’m out of your league, hmph.
    @Warshhhh: heh, i attempt very rarely. but thank you. 🙂

  11. OMG!!! You like Ravi Varma’s paintings too!! I’ve always loved them!!! There’s this one of a lady with an earthen lamp that hangs in Mysore’s museum and that painting is beyond anything!! The glow from that lamp is so real!!!

    Loved the story and am hooked to your blog now 🙂

    Came over from Rayshma’s btw… have heard much about you!

  12. @DewdropDream: 😀 I am glad you came over. I hear so much about the meowing and the likeness that I can’t believe there’s more of you people. 🙂
    Ravi Varma evokes strange sentiments in me, a sense of longing to be the beauty that is such a characteristic of his paintings.

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