If the Lord wills it

Raghavan threw the sea shells up above and watched in delight as they fell to the ground. His nimble and deft hands quickly caught three shells out of the four that landed on the ground, face upward. Sreemati made a face, even while she grabbed the fourth one, a little too late.

"How do you always do that?" Sreemati said. "Next time it'll be me for sure!"

"You wish," laughed Raghavan, "I am stronger, taller and faster than you are, or ever will be."

Sreemati's eyes watered.

Seeing that, Raghavan sobered up.

"Let's go again," Raghavan said.

"No! I don't want to talk to you!" Sreemati said and ran away, tears streaming her face, as she stubbornly wiped them off.

Two hours later, Raghavan found her in the hut next to Ramu chacha's tea stall.

Sreemati had fallen asleep, crying.

Raghavan nudged her... "Sree!"

Sreemati uttered a groan and turned to the other side.

Raghavan nudged her again.

Sreemati opened her eyes this time, and seeing him in front of her, she made a face.

"What? I don't want to play with you," she said, half-heartedly.

Raghavan offered her Ramu chacha's famous sweetmeat and said, "I stole these, so don't make a sound."

It requires mention that Ramu chacha knew about the stolen goods. In moderation, he didn't mind that they were gone.

Sreemati's eyes glinted as she took the offered sweet and put the whole laddoo into her mouth.

As she chewed, she looked adoringly at Raghavan and Raghavan felt relieved and important at the same time. They made peace with each other.

On finishing the sweetmeat, Raghavan told her, "Tomorrow I will teach you how to whistle. Right now, I need to go and help mother weave her straw baskets or she'll beat me up." It was 3 p.m. Sreemati nodded and said, "And I need to help father make coconut laddoos." Her small hands, though not as quick as Raghavan's, had talent when it came to cooking.

The next day, at 10 a.m., Raghavan came to Sreemati's house, whistling a song the whole while. Sreemati's mother said Sreemati was busy making coconut laddoos by the dozen because of Ganesha puja that was going to be celebrated the next week. They had received a huge order for supplying coconut laddoos.

Raghavan shrugged and was about to go when Sreemati came, and forced two laddoos into his hand, and he ate them before her mother could see him.

Raghavan politely asked Sreemati's mother if he could help her with her chores.

"If you can, Raghu, could you bring some young bamboo shoots from the bamboo forest today afternoon? Take Sreemati with you too. Ask your mother for permission and if she agrees, come back here."

Raghavan nodded and ran toward his house. It was a kachha hut - his parents were planning to renovate and convert it to a kuchha-pakka hut soon.

Raghavan's mother asked him where he went.

"I was over at Sreemati's house, mother. They want me to go to the bamboo forest and bring back some young bamboo shoots with Sreemati."

"The bamboo forest?" Raghavan's mother asked. "But child, that place may have snakes and other smaller animals. The forest itself has treacherous footing. You need to be careful, if you at all decide to go! I am half in a mind to stop you from going."

Raghavan pleaded, "We will be back before it becomes dark, mother."

After some talk and imploring on Raghavan's side, his mother allowed him to go.

After most of the villagers had finished their lunch, Raghavan came to Sreemati's hut and they went on ahead into the bamboo forest.

Tall bamboo plants graced the forest. Young shoots were there in a lot of places, but deeper into the forest, they had firmer plants. Young shoots grew better in the middle and the edges of the forest. The bamboo from the edges were cut up and harvested by those who came early, so they had to go inside the forest for quite a while.

Sreemati held Raghavan's hands as they crossed treacherous routes and swamps where snakes could be there.

Luckily, they didn't face any problem.

When they were closer to where the young shoots were, Raghavan and Sreemati started cutting them with a sickle. Sreemati took the smaller sickle while Raghavan took the bigger one. Their small hands hacked at the plant with sure strikes. Raghavan was 11 years old, Sreemati 10 years old, so they had begun to find themselves in a place where they were starting to mature.

Once they had gathered enough shoots, they sat down, sweaty and grimy.

Raghavan took one of the shoots and started to shape them in a certain way.

Sreemati didn't ask what he was doing, but she looked on intently.

"This is what we call a flute," he said, as he twiddled the thing in his hands.

"The only time I saw a real flute was when the village had become alive in the mela!" Sreemati exclaimed and clapped her hands in joy.

Raghavan took the flute to his mouth, his fingers covering a few of the holes in the flute and blew on it tactfully.

A melody was created. Its tune reminded Sreemati of the friendship, the fights and the strength they carried.

When Raghavan stopped playing, Sreemati was silent.

"Will you ever teach me to play like that?" She demanded. "You are much better than me at whatever you do," Sreemati sighed.

Raghavan started teaching her how to play the flute.

Both of them hadn't realised that soon it would be dark. When the sun began to set, Sreemati jumped up and hurried Raghavan too.

As they were going, Raghavan told her, "There is something I want to say to you. I want you to know that no matter what, I believe we will always be together."

Sreemati hadn't noticed his change in countenance, how serious he had become.

She simply urged him on to go home.

Raghavan quietly followed her through the forest to their homes.

It was perhaps the experience they shared that day with the flute in the forest, or the strange feeling of premonition, as God willed it, Sreemati and Raghavan would soon go separate directions.

So that Raghavan would have the best possible education, his parents sent the industrious and studious Raghavan to a city boarding school for a better future.

He would stay there for the entire term and come home only once a year.

That bond he shared with Sreemati didn't get severed, but they had grown distant. Sreemati had grown quieter, she was learning to be whatever a girl was meant to be. Shy, timid, never to raise her voice, to always be graceful and forbearing. They couldn’t play the way they played before.

Raghavan had grown to be a handsome guy. He was learning well. He however, though changed as a guy would at that age, hadn't forgotten about Sreemati.

So when he heard that Sreemati was getting married at the age of 14 years, he cried his heart out, away from home. The friendship they shared or the lack of it had ripened into something more over the last 4 years.

When he came home, though, he decided to give his childhood friend away with a smile.

The Sreemati he saw, decked in a red Benarasi saree, with downcast eyes, flushed cheeks, coming slowly, taking step after step with a slow, quiet grace as everyone in their village welcomed her with the "ulu" or an ululating high pitched sound with their tongues - something that was considered auspicious, left him out of breath.

But he had decided to give her away.

So with a smile on his face, he watched her get married and leave the village.

********

4 years later.

"Raghavan has come home!" His mother shrieked.

"Our prized IIT-ian! The apple of our eyes! It was worth it to see you not come to your home for four years because you cracked the exam on your first chance!"

His mother hustled and bustled.

"Now," his mother said, "we need to find a good girl from a good family to get you married finally."

"Mother, I am only 19 years old. I can't get married now!" Raghavan exclaimed.

"Nonsense! You are ready, and any girl should consider herself lucky to get a husband like you!" His mother said adoringly.

After falling silent for a while, he said, "Then mother, let me choose my own bride."

"Of course," his mother agreed.

Raghavan had thought no one would be ready to marry him. But the thing was, in fact, he met with many eager girls, waiting for what he knew not, but couldn't find anyone he wanted to get married to.

One day, he was strolling in the village when he noticed Ramu chacha's tea stall.

He went and sat there, sipping hot tea and asked him for his famous laddoos.

Ramu chacha would not let him pay.

"You used to think I didn't know you stole from this very place?" he guffawed.

"You are our pride," he said.

When he said that, Raghavan sighed, and remembered who he would like to most hear this praise from.

Raghavan's eyes wandered and stopped at the cornermost container in the shop.

One or two coconut laddoos were there.

On his request, he gave Raghavan one to eat.

"This is so tasty!" Raghavan exclaimed.

A few seconds later, came a reply, "I had many years to hone my skill, after all."

Raghavan almost stopped breathing.

Before him stood there in an impeccable white saree, a woman, who carried a smile on her face, albeit small and laboured.

"Poor Sreemati," Ramu chacha said, "When her husband died of dengue a month after their marriage, her in-laws threw her out, and so did her family. She has been staying with me since."

Raghavan barely heard what he said, he continued looking at her in surprise.

Sreemati said, "Come in."

It was a humble place, but Sreemati had made the most of it. She had a small room in the hut, all to herself. At the corner, were lit incense sticks. They were there for the goat herder and an avatar of Vishnu, Lord Sri Krishna whose murti or clay idol held a flute.

Sreemati offered her pranaam. Seeing her, Raghavan did the same. Then she pulled a mat and placed it on the floor for Raghavan to sit on. She herself sat on the floor, at a distance, facing him.

"My life, I now will spend chanting the name of God, as I have little to live for," she said shakily. "But I am glad to see you."

At this, Raghavan shook his head.

Gently, he said, "My mother is pushing me to get married. Will you do me the honour of giving me your hand in marriage?"

Startled at first, Sreemati found her repose and said, "If the Lord wills it." She fell silent.

"I'll wait. Tell me when you can," Raghavan said as he got up.

**********

Sreemati had gone to the bamboo forest. It was right before the Ganesha puja. As she wandered alone, singing as she cut the shoots with a sickle, she heard a hauntingly beautiful note, barely at first, then filling the forest with its melody. She felt a pressing need to find its source, so as she ran, she felt the note grow louder and louder until it stopped.

She was standing there, when she noticed an old bamboo flute lying there but no one else.

She picked it up and felt a surge of emotions play within her.

It was the flute Raghavan had made all those years back.

*****

"Where is he?" She had asked Raghavan's mother urgently.

Raghavan's mother begrudgingly told her.

She hurriedly took a van toward the train station.

Raghavan was staring out of the window when they spotted each other.

Breathless, Sreemati ran to him and with tears in her eyes, she said, "If you will have me, I will be yours." Then she gave him the flute he had made all those years back.

Raghavan exclaimed in happiness and said, "I will hold you to that when I return after having completed my studies. Will you wait for me and be my bride?"

The train's whistle blew. With a creaky sound, the train started moving. Raghavan's eyes were fixed into hers. Sreemati nodded, her gaze meeting his in acceptance and yielded to him in a way that told everything in stark nakedness.

Raghavan thanked God as he kept looking out through the window, till she could be seen no longer. The train ran down the tracks leaving at least one man in it happier than he ever thought he could be.

*********