The ‘journaaaaleastttt’ from Marari shoreline

Maria mopped the floors of the verandah of the white-painted house that stood elite in the backyard of Marari beach, near Alappuzha. 

“Aren’t you ashamed to accept the fact that your wife is the breadwinner of your family?” Mr. Varkey sarcastically laughed aloud as he spoke to some of his old friends who had called him this afternoon. He puffed a tint of heavy smoke that he inhaled as he continued his mockery against female employment. The so-called-typical Indian household loose talks continued over both ends of the telephone.

Maria hurriedly took the last sip of the warm ginger tea that was left in her cup. “I do not want to accidentally overhear more of their daunting patriarchial conversation” she whispered to herself. She realized the fact that the acceptance of Indian women still prevails as a domesticated material to make idly and dosa! 

“Maria…bring an omelet and a cardamom tea before you leave,” said, Mr. Varkey from his room.

“Sure sir” she rushed to the kitchen.

 “It just feels so annoying that Mr. Varkey disrespects the efforts taken by a woman to run a family. Of course, I am a breadwinner too. I take care of the whole family by myself. My husband doesn’t go to work after a major accident. Indeed, I know Sara, Myer, Adhitya, Fathima, and Megha who run their family with their low incomes.” she spoke to the eggs on the tray.

“Oh! Wait! Maybe only the woman from lower-class families need to go to work and others might depend on their husbands for their financial needs” she continued her debate with the shallots that got deep-fried in the pan.

She carefully placed the sizzling omelet on the glass plate and poured hot cardamom tea into a huge cup. She waved her arms to inform his snack was ready as she saw that he was still on a call.

Mr. Varkey just nodded his head in response.

Maria went back to the kitchen and cleaned the remaining floor. A little while later, when the church clock struck 4, she pinned a shawl, wore her Paragon slippers, and started walking through the shoreline. “I need to rush. It’s almost getting a bit darker today."

On her way back home, she met Fathima and Adhitya hurrying in the same route. They were daily wage workers who worked at a nearby factory. “Hi Maria…” they waved and greeted her.

Maria just slipped a smile as she was not in a mood to initiate or be a part of their conversations.

“Maria…you know who came to our factory today?” asked Fathima enthusiastically.

“Who?” Maria inquired with the least interest.

“A journaaaaaleastttt”, replied Fathima.

“A jou--- what?” asked Maria without even understanding a word.

“Listen! A jour-naaaaa-leastttt….those people are the ones who write for the media or newspapers” added Adhitya to the conversation.

“Oh! I wish I could see that person then,” said Maria excitedly.

“Yes. I heard that women have visited several parts of the world. She said she wanted to interview the workers at our factory. I think it’s better to be careful around them. Journaaaaleastttt’s are coming for the first time in our village. I told all of them to be extra-cautious on what they speak”, added Fathima.

They soon parted their ways to their respective homes. Maria was surprised at someone called “jour-naaaa-leastttt” existed. She heard about people like them for the first time. She secretly envied that a woman can become a “journaaaaleastttt and not just make idly and dosa as Mr. Varkey commented over a call."

She stopped at the nearby grocery shop to collect vegetables for this week. She hand-picked a basket full of tomatoes, spinach, and carrots. “It’s better to buy in bulk and store at her fridge” she whispered to herself. She secretly felt proud that she is a great money-planner for her family. She adjusted the nape of her shawl and continued to examine each vegetable. “Of course, I have to keenly lookout if they are clean and not rotten” she spoke to herself.

She suddenly saw a pair of dark hands that picked a few tomatoes beside her. She noticed that those dark hands had beautifully painted, long, and trimmed nails. She slowly followed those lean hands toward the shoulders. To her utmost surprise, those pairs of hands didn’t have a saree blouse like most of the women had in this part of the village. “Whoa! Sleeveless dress! Seems like a foreigner is at the shop! She has a steady and warm face” thought Maria to herself as she surveyed every inch of the woman standing next to her.

“Oh! No! She’s dark. She can’t be a foreigner. She looks quite darker to be one. But, she has cropped hair, a steady face, and a bold expression even while picking vegetables” Maria continued to speak to herself.

The woman gave Maria a quick smile and walked away.

Maria raised her brows and she was taught not to smile at strangers. “Well! Mr. Varkey should see women like them and zip himself and stop waffling about them. Maybe, he should see such bold woman walking around wearing sleeveless and short-haired thought Maria to herself as she stood in a queue with her basket of vegetables on her hips.

Most of the people in the shop suspiciously eyed at the dark woman who walked out of the shop.

“Did you see that? She carried a paper bag and refused to take the plastic bag offered by George” whispered a woman who stood at the entrance.

“I think she is new to this place. I am seeing her for the first time” whispered one of them.

“For sure, she is an outsider” the woman kept whispering among themselves.

“She looks quite hot!” mocked a group of men from the bench outside the shop.

“Look at her! She goes by herself in a bicycle. A woman should not ride cycles at this young age. You know want happens to ‘that area’….” whispered the older woman in the shop in a very serious tone.

Maria secretly wondered about how brave must be a woman to have short hair, sleeveless dress, ride a bicycle, smile at strangers, and ignore those mocking men throwing loose talks.

She pays the cash at the counter and continues to walk toward her home. She was buried in the thoughts of this new dark woman now. She nearly forgot the “journaaaleastttt who was informed to be seen in the factory."

To her surprise, the priest of the nearby Latin Church was standing in front of her house. She hurried toward him and greeted “Praise be to the Lord, Father! You could have just sent someone. Why did you walk all the way here?”

“Maria, I came to ask a huge favor”. My sister’s daughter is in town for a week. She has rented a cottage nearby. She wants someone to help her around with the house. Will you come over and stay with her? I’ll talk to your husband and arrange food for him. Also, I’ll talk to Mr. Varkey that you will not be working for him this week” said the priest.  

Maria was confused, happy, and not sure.

“Clara will pay you well”, added the priest.

“Ok! Alright, Father. I’ll come over” Maria replied.

She didn’t give it a deeper thought. More than that, she didn’t have time too. It was so cloudy and it could rain anytime. It was late and she had plenty of household chores pending already. 

That night, she lay beside her husband inside their tiny house that smelled of kerosene. She was least bothered or interested in the pleasures while her husband undressed her for tonight’s sex session. It has all become a habit for her. But, she could never say “No”. She thought to herself, “Of course, that is what marriages are about. I have to do it when he asks.”

She didn’t whisper a word out of love when they climaxed. “Woman who makes idly and dosa are pieces of pleasures during the nights” she comforted herself.

The next morning, she woke up and packed a few clothes and informed her husband that she would not be home until next week as she had to go to be with the priest’s sister’s daughter who is in town. Maria got into a local bus that will take her to the address provided by the priest.

The bus traveled through the shorelines of Marari beach. The bus was less crowded, yet smelled like salt. People inside the bus greeted each other as most of them were fisherwoman and wagers who worked at the factory. “Well! I think I know most of them in the town”, Maria proudly thought to herself. She sat on the seat beside the windows and allowed the salty breeze to touch her face and brush her oily hair. She liked it. She always imagined that the sea had the smell of freedom. She imagined those while-skinned British men lived on the other side of the sea. She also imagined that mermaids lived in the deep sea.

She climbed down at the last stop where the bus halted. She walked toward the vintage old cottage that peeped through the tall coconut trees on the shoreline. 

“Welcome Maria” greeted a bold voiced woman in shorts who sat at the grandfather's chair at the entrance of the house.

Maria was astonished! The dark-haired woman whom she met at the grocery shop yesterday! The same woman who rode a bicycle and denied to use plastic! 

“Hi…” she feebly responded to the woman.

“I am Clara. I am so glad that you are here to help me Maria” she hugged her suddenly. Nobody had hugged Maria with such warmth. She was new to all these! 

“You can settle yourself and change your clothes if you want. And, later, you can help me in frying fishes that I bought from the market this morning.” Clara said as she walked inside.

Maria was overwhelmed, scared, and fascinated.

She hurried to the kitchen and started washing the fishes. She noticed that there were no traces of plastic covers or boxes. It was all wooden, steel, or copper. She also noticed that the woman wore sleeveless and short clothes and lived alone.

“So, what do you do for a living?” asked Clara as she jumped and sat on the granite slab.

“I am a maid at Mr. Varkey’s place” she silently spoke.

“You can speak aloud Maria. It’s just two of us here. You have all freedom to access anything, anywhere. All you have to do is, help me in cooking and doing the chores” laughed Clara as she spoke.

Maria slightly nodded her head.

She wondered suspiciously if she should talk to Clara or carefully avoid her as she massaged spices on the fishes. “This woman is so bold and new. I have never seen someone like her in this town before. Maybe, she hails from a place across the seas” she spoke to the fishes as her habit.

Clara broke a loud laugh as she heard Maria’s soft voice speaking to the fishes about her.

“Maria…I’m not coming from a secret place across the blue sea. I am a journalist from Delhi. I came to Alappuzha for an assignment in featuring brave and bold woman like you in the South”.

Maria didn’t understand a single word she spoke swiftly. But, she just heard that same word “journaaaaleasttttt” once again. “Oh!” she parted her lips in wonder as she covered the fishes in banana leaves for frying.

“So….you…are…that…journaaaaleastttt…in town….who…visited the factory yesterday?” Maria bought words together and spoke with utter difficulty.

Clara replied, “Its journalist. Just journalist!” she pronounced as she chuckled.

Maria spoke in awe, “Journaaaaleastttt! Oh yeah…you write for the newspapers. I knew you were in town from my friends around. I just did not know that “journaaaaleastttt” who came to pick vegetables at our grocery shop and rode bicycles."

Clara laughed with astonishment to know that the whole village came to know about her visit.

Maria served hot fried fishes and rice for Clara and sat on the floor as she watched her eat. Clara asked Maria to join her for the lunch.

Maria was reluctant in the beginning but later joined with a hesitant heart. “You know, the woman here don’t eat when their husbands or landlords or house owners eat. It is a sign of disrespect. Especially at Mr. Varkey’s place!” she spoke in low voices.

Clara was eagerly listening to Maria.

“So, have you gone to school?” asked Clara.

Maria sadly hung her head and said, “I completed my schooling from a nearby government school. But, after that, my parents could not afford my education and I was sent to work with my mother. They both worked at the factory. And, gradually, I ended up at Mr. Varkey’s place.”

“Well! Do you want to come with me to Delhi? I can help you with your education. You can simultaneously work also” asked Clara as she relished on the huge spicy fish that was served. “Indeed, you cook well. So, you can come along and do chores at my place and do evening colleges too. You look quite young. Moreover, there’s no age for education, Maria. You just need to have that spirit to learn” said Clara.

Maria was shocked. “No. No. No. I can’t do all that. I am a married woman. People are going to mock at me. Plus my husband…I can’t leave him as well. It’s a very small town and here we go by rules. We are not allowed to go to schools or colleges after marriage, we should not ride bicycles as it “might break that part of our body” and we don’t talk much when men or elders speak.”

Clara's eyed carefully as Maria continued to talk.

“Perhaps, this is the first time I am speaking so much to someone like this. I am used to talking to the vegetables and dishes in the kitchen” continued Maria.

Clara was keenly listening to her.

“Maria…you have not still realized what is your real power! And, that is why you have decided to listen to society and abide by their rules and not listen to your tiny little heart.”

“What is my real power?” Maria was surprised.

“You are a woman. A woman who can choose between her choices” said Clara stressing each word.

“I . Am . A . Woman . Who . Can. Choose. Between . My. Choices” whispered Maria louder than usual.

“Yes!” nodded Clara in acceptance.

“Now tell me, do you want to redefine your dreams and step out to see the world outside the shorelines of Marari beach?” asked Clara.

“Yes! I want to become a ‘journaaaaleastttt’ like you” said Maria in a determined voice.

“Just journalist” laughed Clara as she hugged Maria.

“Yes! Yes. A 'journaaaaleasttttt'" said Maria with tears of happiness.