A CHILDHOOD HOBBY INSPIRES AN ADULTHOOD DREAM!

A CHILDHOOD HOBBY INSPIRES AN ADULTHOOD DREAM!

I opened my eyes to see the velvet coloured blades of the ceiling fan spinning like a ballet dancer around its golden centrepiece. Tom had woken up early and left for work. He worked in a popular bank’s regional office, a couple of kilometres from our residence. It was our first week in Kochi . I still have not come to terms with the bustling life of the city having spent nearly all life in my ancestral home near the Nilgiri hills. A beautiful place with its lush greenery, perennial dew drops, calm countryside life and with always a cool breeze to give a comforting shiver.

After our marriage we stayed in my home for a week afterwhich Tom's occupational obligations forced us to move to his apartment in the city.

Our apartment sits on the 8th floor. It is a midrange two bedroom and a kitchen flat. I am not too fond of the pale yellow paint. Tom had not put much thought into furniture as well. I added a beautiful Cuckoo clock coz I always wanted one and royal blue curtains to attenuate the pain of the yellow paint. Our beautiful wedding photo hangs on the dining room wall. There are 4 adjacent apartment buildings in our area, all standing in a row proudly with the winds from the middle east on their backs and the continually populous expressway in front. The balcony faces the road. Some relative of Tom advised him to buy the road facing apartment rather than the sea facing one since sea represents solitude while the roads represent motion of lives. Yet facing the roads with its hundreds of daily dwellers trudging gallantly to and fro from their destinations did not deter the melancholy in me.

Pain of leaving my home. Pain of leaving my parents. Pain of leaving my mango tree. I had planted the mango tree in the courtyard ages ago hoping it would grow to be a majestic huge tree that would offer shelter and tasty mangos ofcourse! We did not need a mango tree, there were plenty around in our village and mangoes were never a scarcity. It was one of my childhood crazy ventures. In the beginning its role in my life was confined to a hobby. Later it grew to be a companion, A companion with a promise, MANGOES!.

 Nevertheless it did not reach the majestic heights I had anticipated, just a little taller than my present height(which is not much HA!), it did not give any mangoes. But I still watered and nurtured my unfulfilled ambitiom. Years of age could not dissuade me from the evening ritual of watering the plant. I still remember Tom's innocent laughter on hearing my mango ordeal.

I had a temporary job in a town near my home before marriage. It was a pleasurable few months there before the person for whom I had filled in for returned from sick leave. Numerous futile interviews that succeeded broke my resolve to attain economic self sufficiency. Tom was not against but also not too delighted when I brought up the topic of me job hunting eventhough he had assured me his full support unlike the conservative souls in his and my family who frowned upon a woman going to work. Within weeks I was able to dig out hidden emotion signs from Tom's face. So inside he too disliked a working wife. Finally I let go off my ambitions with a heavy heart.

With the morning cup of tea in my right hand I stood out in the balcony facing the morning sky. Church bells rang from the far south. The whistle of the traffic cop who is stationed at the intersection during peak hours broke the cacophony of vehicles' horns. I can hear the fuss of the two preschool kids in the apartment below. The younger one always throws a tantrum before leaving for school everyday while the elder one makes his contribution to the fuss by chiming in with some mischiefs in between much to annoyance of the poor mother. It is funny listening to them. The couple upstairs are sweet lovehearts in the morning but unrelenting debaters in the evening. I am not a fan of snooping but the neighbors are incredibly audible from the balcony. Regrettably there was a constancy to the events of a day.

Buses filled with well dressed office goers and schoolkids. Both groups will be shabby in their return trips. People in the morning are very anxious, for getting to the bus stop on time, worried about the challenges that the day beholds , worried about the family left behind and so on. The same people in the evening look far more relaxed though shabby and fatigued. But there is a smile on their faces darkened by the day, not only on the little school conquerors but also the adults. Joy of finishing a day, rejoining with family, or having a good slumber on the never-more-welcoming bed at home. I too was a member of the chaos once. 

As I wandered my gaze along the horizon obscured by the lining of the skyscrapers, a pigeon captured my attention. It flapped its wings looking aimlessly to perch but no trees were to be seen. Alas it glided gently on the railing next to me. Poor thing! My heart ached for the tiny being. Our heartless felling of trees left the pigeon with no branch to rest upon. My mango tree would have offered it shelter had its growth not halted.

Tom and I spent the evenings making acquaintance with our fellow residents. Sadly I never was able to find a good friend to have a free light hearted conversation. All were busy with their own mechanical lives. So I found myself imprisoned in the apartment. Tried cooking some intricate delicacies which turned out to failures so massive I had to destroy all evidence of its existence. I never had been a good cook. Phone calls to my family and friends were the only means of escape from the seclusion.

We returned to my home after a couple of months. I gave a cathartic gasp on seeing my mom and dad. I flung my arms around both of them and gave them a tight squeeze. It was evening and force of habit pulled me to my mango tree. THE TREE HAD GROWN! Not by much but it had grown! All these years of nurturing has paid off. The sight of my mango tree was joyful but at the same time poignant. I remembered how I left my ambitions behind. I persisted with the mango tree and it bore fruit(literally, maybe in the distant future). 

I thanked the mango tree for spurring me to chase my dreams. Perhaps I too will lead one of those mechanical lives in the city and feel a tinge less lonely!