The Peas Plough

I exited my chilled car and felt the warm breeze of a regular evening in Delhi touch my skin. I slouched and collected my heavy files, heavy purse and the light lunch bag from the back seat and walked towards my home entrance. It was a rather old 10 storey building that had a rusty iron door, which seemed like it would fall the second someone would touch it but it never did. It would squeak as it swung on its hinges but nothing more. 

I moved forward to the main building which was a shade of dirty yellow and grey from old age and the water leakages. I had trodden into something which looked like it was a small plastic toy car which came inside a packet of chips; but now was squashed and deformed into something unrecognisable with micro wheels. I closed my eyes and clenched my fist tightly. The kids in the building were unarguably stupid, as a matter of fact all kids are silly. I don’t understand the need of humans to bring such things to the world. 

The bags on my shoulder and my grumbling stomach pushed me to ignore the little piece of plastic and move ahead. 

I ransacked my purse to find the keys to the apartment but it was filled with unnecessary items I didn’t even recognise but must have put in in haste. 

The strong aroma of burnt ghee and masala from across the hall was not helping. My neighbours were definitely cooking Peas Pulao.

The amount of oil and ghee this family consumed didn’t seem healthy but who bothers, its their life, it is their decision. 

I finally found the keys stuck between a notepad and a sewing thread. I opened the doors to heaven and threw all my stuff on the floor and crashed on the sofa instantly. 

Relief washed over me as it was weekend, I could finally catch on some sleep I lost the last few weekdays. All humans are right when they say life is cruel, managing university and job did nothing good to me but bring me to an empty home each night and dropping limbs waiting to crash. It was like life was in a rush but at least right now I get to decide what I want from my years to come and someone else is not taking a decision that I am of age to get married to someone randomly chosen for me. 

I dropped from the sofa dreading to head to the kitchen to cook myself a meal. I had no energy left to cook a meal and no extra money to order home delivery. I settled on bread and butter and switched on the toaster when someone knocked on the front door. I groaned, this better be important or I would tear the person behind the door apart for extending the wait to eat something, anything.

I opened the door and the annoying kid from across the hall was there. My insides hurt as I gaped at him sternly. 

He rose his hands that held a bowl covered with foil. “Ma gave this for you” he extended his hand. The smell of peas plough instantly hit my nostrils and all my frustration washed and a genuine smile crept onto my face. I thanked the boy and gave him a bar of chocolate from the refrigerator.

I shut the door behind me and unwrapped the bowl. I was right, they were cooking peas plough indeed, my mother used to cook that too. I brought the bowl and took a long sniff of the burnt ghee and masala. I ran to the kitchen to get a spoon and start digging. The bread and butter were long forgotten. The plough was delicious or I was famished, I could not tell but the next thing I knew was that I was sprawling on my bed asleep. 

The next morning, I woke up to a loud sound of something crashing loudly, it came from the hall. I rubbed the sleep off of my eyes and hopped out of bed. Why could people not leave me alone on a Sunday, it was the only day I could actually sit back and relax. 

The crashing sound was followed by some people shouting intelligibly in the hall. Now that I was completely up I could hear a lot of noise and commotion. I pressed my head with my hands hoping to figure the matter out. There was always something or the other going on here. Sometimes it was a fight between the old uncles on something unimportant or the aunties screaming on their lazy kids. 

I opened the front door and saw a row of huge brown boxes lined up at one corner of the hall and the item that crashed was a wooden cabinet. The aunty from across the hall stood on top of the stairs shouting instructions to the labourers, one hand on her waist and the other pointing directions. She turned and noticed me, she dropped her shoulders and smiled.

I looked around and moved a few boxes to make way towards her.

“Good morning aunty”

“Good morning. Did you like the plough?”

“Oh yeah” suddenly remembering to thank her for those “they were amazing. I’ll just go grab the bowl for you” I turned.

“No no. its fine, you keep it” I looked back at her.

“Are you shifting something aunty“ I asked curiously seeing the boxes and the things.

“Yes. We are shifting to Mumbai.” I nodded and smiled crookedly.

“Have a safe travel.” I gave her a side hug and asked if she needed help which she politely refused. 

___

Work was hectic that day and my boss shouted at me for no reason at all. Beyond reason, she did not have the right to shout at anyone that way. I pushed the ugly iron door to enter the stupid old building. 

I reached my floor but couldn’t help but notice there was no smell whatsoever in the hall and no screaming either. I looked over across the hall and saw the door behind which was nobody. I sighed.

Even after living alone for a while , I knew I had people around me but that commotion was gone.

Oh the number times I have screamed on those little brats. Who do they think their parents are or they are. 

I opened the apartment door and entered dreading to do anything. I heated the cup noodles and settled in front of the TV. There was something playing on it but I couldn’t concentrate. Although the interactions were few but at least there was someone. Not like my life depended on them or something but it felt weird, it felt empty just as if the old tape was playing all over again, the magnitude of the pain incomparable, there was no pain just the memories clouding my head. Memories that I had forcefully shut not from my head but also my life. 

At the moment all I wanted to do was run back home, where I came from to the people I used to call family and submit. At least this way I will have them. It hurts that in all theses months they never bothered even once about where I was or what I was doing. Maybe I was a burden on them after all. I hate to agree but I miss being pampered but getting pampered into not being able to breath freely is not acceptable. 

I can deal with a lonely night but not a forced marriage, Never. I picked myself up, just a few more years and life will start falling into place. People just come and go, that’s what they do and one’s gotta accept that and move on, I guess. 

Change isn’t always almost so dramatic.