the old lady and the sea - a cup of tea and all about daughters

Ameena was busy with making tea while complaining. "Didi, I am told that you met Shaili, the young girl, Shyama's daughter. She came by you at the rocks near the sea at night on her return from selling peanuts at the tourist beach. I heard her talking to her mother at our shop. Her mother looked scared and worried after that."

The old lady nodded but did not reply. Ameena handed over a large cup and poured out the freshly made decoction and added milk to it. Just as they liked to after all these years. She went back to the stove and looked out at the street. 

Turning around, her hands on her hips, she asked, "You must have said something harsh or worrisome to the young girl, I think. Do you even remember it now or have you forgotten it completely?" 

Saroja looked up from sipping her tea. Better to stay silent, she thought. 

"There she comes, Shyama, to this house. She must be wanting to talk to you. I will give her a cup of tea. That may cool her down." 

Saroja smiled and nodded. Shyama came in and stood nearer to the dining table, not touching the cup of tea that had been placed for her. Ameena was about to insist that she sit down but thought better of it and stepped back to wait by the refrigerator. 

Shyama placed a plastic bag containing peanuts on the dining table near Saroja. "There! Are you satisfied now? My daughter was very upset that she could not sell you any peanuts. Are you happy now? I knew that you will interfere in our lives. I had warned her to stay away from you."

"Do not be harsh on her," Ameena said. "She does not know what she says and she does not remember. She would not even have noticed what she said. My old friend only likes to go and sit on the rocks by the sea and watch the high tide in the late evening. She hardly remembers anything else."

Saroja did not look up at Shyama. She opened the bag and took out some peanuts with her left hand and kept watching them on her open palm. Ameena came nearer and looked at Saroja. She was worried. Had this outburst affected her friend in some way? 

Shyama spoke again, "I know you and that you meant well. Your daughter is well studied and married and gone to London and has her own children. But I need my Shaili with me. She has to work My son has to work. My Shaili has to sell these peanuts. I want you to tell her that. Will you?"

Saroja bent down to smell the warm peanuts in the bag. She smiled. "I love these peanuts. Boiled and salted peanuts. Do you remember, Ameena, we used to run to your father's shop and your mother would have them ready for us? You, me and Mildred, the three of us loved them. We would add some salt, some crushed pepper and lemon juice. We did our school homework at the shop and your mother would make those sweetened chapatis for us."

Ameena nodded and laughed. "You remember all that, my wonderful friend? Those are memories from a long long time ago. I had forgotten them. Did you remember that by smelling those peanuts in the bag? That is so amazing and beautiful. You made me remember my mother. After all these many years that have gone past."

Shyama had gotten over her outburst. "What do I do? We need to live together as the small family that we are. I could send her to school, I guess. Why did you have to interfere? Now I have to send her to school. The school and her classes would only be in the morning, so it is ok, I think." 

"We will struggle and make do. But the years go by so quickly. Will you let her come to meet you and bring you these boiled and salted peanuts? I want my daughter also to be remembered for her good work and success long into the future like Ameena's mother, illiterate and humble though she was. You remembered her even if you forgot other things. I want my daughter to be remembered for much longer than she would live." 

Bharat Bhushan, 20 June 2022

From the series, the very very short stories - the old lady and the sea - a new approach to visit the memories of yesterday 

the old lady and the sea - boiled and salted peanuts at twilight

The routine was disturbed tonight. The old lady had walked up from her house by the beach to the rocks where the high tide came crashing at twilight. She had always been alone, sitting by herself, these many years since Gopala had passed on. 

There was a young girl, possibly 10 years old or just about, walking alone from the tourist end of the beach and going towards the village. She was carrying a largish basket on her head and the old lady recognised the shape and its purpose from her childhood memories. The young girl was possibly selling boiled and salted peanuts to the tourists on the busy weekend. 

The vendors from the village usually went to the touristy beach by the motorable road with their carts and goods. It was very rare for a lone vendor, a young girl, unprotected and unaccompanied, to walk back on the lonely beach at this hour. 

The girl had spotted the old lady and she paused, watching her. The old lady watched her, waiting for her to call out to sell the boiled and salted peanuts. The memories came rushing back, the taste of the rock salt, pepper and chilli powder sprinkled on those tenderised peanuts. She could be lucky if the young girl had not sold out all her stock at the tourist beach. 

The girl stood silent, balancing her basket on her head. Saroja stepped down from the rocks and walked up to the girl and asked, "Well! Are you going to sell me some of your boiled and salted peanuts?" 

The girl smiled. "I want to. But, my mother has instructed me not to talk to you."

Saroja laughed. "Your mother said so? Who is your mother? And you, what is your name? Are you from our village?"

"My mother is Shyama. You know her well. She knows you from many years. My name is Shaili. We live by the houses beyond the village after my father died suddenly. My brother and me, we help our mother to manage our house. I sell the boiled peanuts while my mother and brother work in the tourist resort during the day. We have to. My mother needs our help." 

Saroja nodded. "Yes. I know Shyama. But why did she ask you not to talk to me? Did she say that I am crazy or mad, sitting alone at the rocks on the high tide?"

Shaili laughed. "No. No. She did not say anything like that. She does not think that you are crazy. She was worried about me, if I would meet you and would talk to you."

"Why? What would I do to you?"

"She asked me to be very careful in talking with you. She said that you will talk with me and will later want me to stop selling peanuts or will purchase all the peanuts and will ask me to start attending school."

"That would be correct. Your mother knows me well. Should you not attend school regularly?"

"No. We cannot afford to," Shaili said. "My mother needs my help in the house. My mother was very worried. She said that I should avoid meeting you at any cost. She was worried that you will interfere in my life and will want me to go to a school and whatever. I need to sell the boiled peanuts and do work at the house to help my mother."

Bharat Bhushan, 19 June 2022

From the series -  the very very short stories - the old lady and the sea - a new approach to visit the memories of yesterday 

last local from Churchgate and traveling with ambitious gangsters

 It was the last local from Churchgate to Vasai, well past midnight. It would practically be all-empty, with most 3-seaters being occupied by passengers who could stretch out and sleep it out all the way. The slow local stopped for more than its usual day-time at Bombay Central, Dadar and Bandra to allow the long-distance night express trains to speed past enroute to their destinations. I had to travel all the way up to Vasai and that would be a journey of more than ninety minutes or so and therefore I organised my haversack as a comfortable pillow and covered myself with two sheets of today’s Times of India and planned to take a good nap all the way. Hopefully, I would not be disturbed by anyone.

There were other passengers on nearby 3-seaters. The rear 8-seater had a family sitting together, looking worried and tense, with several old-style cotton bags, tied up with nylon ropes. They must be going to Vasai to catch the interchange long distance trains that came in from Pune and changed over from the Central to the Western railway networks. Something must have happened at their native town or village, something unfortunate and tragic, perhaps.

The 3-seater opposite me was empty and a lucky passenger could get to sleep on it upon boarding at Marine Lines or Charni Road. It was difficult to fall asleep rightaway. This was my first journey at these hours and I had not planned it in this manner. Whattodo. I could not help it. I had to be at Vasai, just before dawn, to catch the down train from Indore that would turn eastwards to Pune and would help me reach before office hours for an early meeting.

It was ok, I thought. What if I could not go to sleep? I could just take some rest in case I did not get a good seat or sleeper berth on the train from Indore to Pune. The worried family on the 8-seater were whispering and chatting and I could hear all or some of it. The elderly lady was speaking in a terrified whisper and wondering about all the sleeping passengers. She wanted to know what they could do if anyone of these passengers jumped up and threatened them with a knife or a gun and wanted all their luggage and money. How could they fight him and avoid any injury.

I could not hear the reply from her middle-aged son but it had not been satisfactory. The middle-aged daughter-in-law replied impatiently to the elderly lady and the gist of it was that any such person with a knife or a gun would be truly unlucky. They could actually pay the thief to take away their entire luggage and go away. At least, they could then look forward to purchasing new items and new clothes. The five kids, probably theirs, laughed in silent gasps.

Three men boarded at Marine Lines and came to sit at the 3-seater that was opposite me. I glanced at them in a very hesitant manner. They looked quite decent, middle class, half-sleeve shirts, terene trousers, leather shoes with laces and had newspapers, an umbrella each, and small packets of salted peanuts that they must have purchased at the railway platform. It had become costly this month and one had to pay two rupees. A hundred percent inflation and that must be reflective of the state of the nation, I thought. No threat or worry from these three decent persons, I felt.

One was quite elderly, probably their boss or elder brother or their senior at their workplace. The other two spoke respectfully with the elder. He was dressed in a white shirt and a pale cream trouser. The youngest was dressed quite formally. He had his half sleeve shirt tucked in and had buttoned up right up there, all the way to the collar. The third one looked nervous. He looked around the compartment. He was glancing at each passenger and yet, he had just rightaway dismissed the family at the 8-seater. He did not look at them. I could sense his thoughts as he looked at me. It was just more than a normal glance. He was staring deliberately to check if I was really sleeping or just faking it up.

The youngster in the formal tucked-in-shirt bowed low, just a bit, and spoke in a matter of fact manner. “Boss, we may have to bring a full stop to that shop owner. He refused to pay up on the monthly rent and has not paid for the past one year. You are very kind to him otherwise I would have used my full stop methods, at least six months ago.”

The elder smiled and patted at his folded-up newspaper. “Who are you talking about? Thanawala? Let him be. He is a Bawa and they are like that only. I will talk to his mother. She will know what to do. We can visit her at Flora Fountain. You come with me. You cannot go about killing all our tenants who are not able to pay up. You have already forgotten the mess that you created last year with the Malabari family. You thought that they were just local shopkeepers who were selling fake goods by labelling them as smuggled goods. You did not realise that they had a big background support. It took me quite a lot of trouble and five months to settle everything down. Do not start again.”

The third man was watching me intently. He was suspicious that I was not fast asleep and that I was probably listening to their conversation. I was getting worried. What if they did notice that I was awake? Full stop or what?

The youngster was not convinced about taking it easy about whosoever that Thanawala was. “I know all about your patience, Boss. You tell us to be polite and patient and yet you want us to collect as much pending rent as more than possible. We have to answer to you. This Thanawala knows it entirely. He threatened me by saying that he will complain to you. He says that his business was down for the entire year and he cannot pay and that we cannot remove him from the house because he has his receipts from earlier years and he has sent letters to the owners about it. Just let me handle it in my way. I will return with Richard and Pakiya and we will take care of him. New tenants will pay.”

I sat up in alarm. These fellows were talking about knocking off someone. It would be better to move to another compartment and get away from them. The third man smiled in triumph. He had guessed correctly about me. At the same moment, the elderly lady with the family on the 8-seater screamed. She probably thought that I was a thief.

“Do not shoot, do not shoot,” she shouted. She was holding up her hands in absolute filmy style. Her daughter-in-law had bent down to hide. The middle-aged man was looking very apologetic at us and shrugging his shoulders.

The three men looked at me in alarm. They must have thought that I was a threat to them and was traveling in the train to cause them harm. I was in an absolute state of panic. I shouted at the elderly lady and her family, waving my hands and saying, “No. No. I am not trying to harm you. Do not worry. I am not going to shoot you. Do not worry.”

Saying thus, I turned to apologise to the three men. They were gone. They had probably jumped off at Bombay Central.

From "the very short short stories on first edit" 

(c) Bharat Bhushan

12 February 2022