I was twelve then. With a square drawn on my head and the hair in it collected in a ponytail, the remaining hair drenched in sweat and  falling on my shoulders, large mischievous eyes, the skin burnt in the summer sun to an ebony brown, I was like any other inquisitive school girl. I was walking along the space between the train tracks, with Jaggu, my cousin. I was questioning him for the umpteenth time why we are baking in the sun. “There is a surprise for you in just two minutes. Close to the Town station, there is a guava tree.” I jumped at the word. I saw the tree too at the same time with light green tiny bunches of fruits on a tree which leaned over the low compound along the track. Jaggu picked me up and stationed me on a branch. I bundled up my pavadai and quickly picked up a dozen at the wink of an eye. After plucking a few more I held it close to me and jumped down. We sat down under the shade and started biting into it.

“Why didn’t you come on your own, anyway, nice of you to share with me.” He laughed with the juice dripping down his chin. “ That branch will not hold me. You are light, and a good excuse.” I did not question him on that statement, busy savouring the sweet fruits. When we entered the narrow cemented path leading to our house, I saw my aunt waiting with a cane. “ Where did you get lost Jaggu? You missed your tuition today also,” and swished the cane for a hit. Jaggu quickly pulled me to the front and said, “ I saw this girl walking near the tracks, so I went to bring her back. She was playing with her 7 stones, and I had to drag her home.” I was totally aghast. The cunning rat used me for missing classes, plus got me to pluck guavas for him. My aunt gave me a glare. She already has big eyes. I felt Jaggu pushing me inside the house and I went with it. What else can I do? As I entered the cool house I felt sleepy.  I just sprawled on the mat rolled out near the window.

It was five in the evening and I sat up to think where I am. It was only two days since I came to my uncle’s place in Trichy. I suddenly remembered the friends who would now be at the adjacent temple waiting for me. I rolled the mat and shoved it in its place in the corner. I jumped down the four steps leading inside the temple and joined the noisy crowd. The square courtyard in the centre had the main deity facing it. The adjacent sides had elevated platforms that led to an L shape space where faces of Gods were painted with vibrant colours on the walls. This stretch would be dark with small lamps throwing a tiny light. The paintings had faces with large eyes and several hands carrying spears, swords,  and even a head held by its hair. We often used to hide inside, while playing hide and seek, but stood trembling, waiting for someone to find us fast.

When devotees started coming in to pray we had to disperse. But our play time was not yet over. I joined Jaggu in our neighbour’s house, where he was swinging in the Oonjal. ‘Appa thatha’ with his bushy white moustache twirled at the ends to a pointed edge, was also there chewing tobacco. He told me, “Mohana, you should not be playing with Jaggu anymore. You are a big girl.”

“Thatha you should tell him, he is bigger than me.” I saw Jaggu laughing at me. Annoying fellow.

I did not get a chance to see him for a long time after that vacation. Father, who used to take me frequently to Trichy, stopped taking me with him, quoting that I am a big girl now. But Jaggu visited Chennai annually to visit his friends here. He did not talk much with me and I just gave sideward glances when I walked past him. I used to wonder why I did not feel free with him. Jaggu was in college, when my dad took me to their house on one of his next visit.

My uncle was now in a posh locality, a big house with a lot of luxury. But I missed the quaint street with a row of houses with a thinnai in every house like a porch, where people sat outside in the evenings and the whole street would be chatting with each other from their thinnai. I loved that collective feel and would eagerly listen to household hacks and cookery tips exchanged when ladies were gathered. After dinner it would be only men with more interesting topics - politics, music and cinema gossip took centre stage. I was fascinated by the different slang and the camaraderie among the menfolk.

I knew all the families in the whole street. I could enter any of them at any time. There was the corner house with a cloth cradle permanently hung at the entrance. I would be surprised that there was a new baby in it all the time. Their house always smelt a mixture of milk and urine. Ponni mami, their neighbour with a huge kumkum, and manjal smeared on her face gave me a toothless smile every time I entered their house. The aroma of coffee always lingered in their house. I used to think they had only coffee the whole day. Mama will always be listening to Tamil news with ‘Saroj Narayanswamy’, blaring on the radio. He always addressed me as “Madras girl.”

The Nandhavanam adjoining the temple was a heavenly abode with flower shrubs like jasmine, champak, Arali, shoe flower, Jaadhi malli creepers, and a huge Maghizhambu tree under which tiny pearl-like flowers fell and covered the ground. In summer the fragrance in the whole space was matched by the lonely mango tree with its fresh bloom of flowers, and the tangy smell of the mangoes hanging low on its branches. The branches hung above the adjacent temple tank. Jaggu would jump into the tank to pick mangoes. I was actually the mango catcher. He would throw them from the water and I would catch and gather them from the garden. Later he would give me a few broken ones and stash the others away. Every time I would threaten to complain about this mid afternoon theft to my aunt. He would give a crooked smile and walk away. And I had never complained. But I continued following him like a lamb all through the vacation.

This new house which smelled of fresh paint and slippery mosaic tiles did not touch my heart as the small cosy, cool house. As I was looking around and wondering, Jaggu came into the room. He looked strikingly smart, with a thick line of moustache. I felt like his entry assaulted me but instead of fear I felt shy when I saw him. I didn't understand this new sensation. I saw Jaggu staring at me. I felt odd. I wondered if I had draped my half saree right. I looked down to give a quick glance, and walked to stand next to my aunt.

I remembered the last time I visited them. He had shouted “Hey Mohi, you have grown like a big barrel." How mean. I was a little plump, but he cannot insult me like that. Everyone laughed at that comment and that hurt the most. I should not talk with him till we return to Madras. I went to Appa later and told him his nephew is a mean pig. “Now, who is being nasty, girlie?” he had said.

The next day Jaggu became casual and told me about having a girlfriend who lives close by, and how he would have clandestine meetings whenever there was an opportunity. He wanted a favour from me. He wanted me to keep the door open for him to get out for half an hour. I have to keep guard till he is safe back inside. I said Yes. Why do I care? For two days, this went on. The third day, he looked panicky and rushed inside and closed the door behind him. I gave him some water and he said in a whispering tone, “I was talking with her in her garden, when all of a sudden her father came out. I heard the footsteps and not knowing what to do, let myself into their well. It was a small well so I just stood with my legs apart on the ledges. She gave some excuse to her father and he went inside. I climbed out and ran home.”

I nearly gasped aloud and he closed my mouth with his hands, signalling me to keep quiet. My heart jumped to my throat. He looked at me pleadingly. I have never spoken to him this close, at this hour with no one around, and he was talking about his narrow escape. An odd shiver ran through me. “ Why are you looking like you saw a ghost,” he teased. Though I did not get a warm welcome from him, and was angry with him, I found myself admiring him. How stylish he looks, and how daring to go on a rendezvous late at night. His teasing laughter kept ringing in my ears.

Another day he showed me a new Mouth Organ and played a tune in it. This was given by Suja, his girlfriend, he said, after she played a tune in it, he added and winked at me. “Ok. Wish me Sweet Dreams,” he laughed and walked to his room. I did not sleep after that. Shall I tell Appa about this. No, I will wait till he does more pranks. Then I will turn him over to his father. But am I feeling jealous? No way.

I am leaving for Chennai with my father today. Jaggu seemed to have been up early. Happy that I'm leaving, I guess. I had a slight tightness in my chest. Travel qualms, I supposed. After two weeks of stay I had become attached to this house. I would have enjoyed my stay better, if only Jaggu had not made me an accomplice to his romantic trysts. Why did he share them with me, I wondered. I was sitting on a rickety arm chair under the Mango tree, with my breakfast plate in my hand, staring at nowhere. Someone grabbed my plate and I jumped with a shout. Jaggu was having a good laugh at my fear. I glared at him in mock anger; he pursed his lips like he was about to cry. We then laughed together.

“You look happy that I'm leaving Jags,” I quipped. “Oh! Were you feeling sad; Will you miss me?” he asked eagerly. We both fell silent, but looked into each other’s eyes.

“Jagan” my father called out. The spell of the moment was broken. We gathered at the portico and I silently sat in the front seat as my father started the car. Uncle waved at me and I waved back. I turned to Jaggu to smile. I saw his eyes were moist. Am I imagining it? He looked sad. My smile froze as I saw the love and disappointment in his eyes.

As we drove through the city my father was focusing on the traffic, and I could not stop thinking about this vacation, which made me see my cousin in a different light. I had suddenly felt secure and comfortable while I was with him. I was watching him keenly whenever he was in the same room as me. Reminiscing now over the silly pranks he played while I was with him felt nostalgic, and I smiled to myself.

“Feeling happy that you are going home at last,” said my father. He apologised that he had to extend his stay. If only he knew that I was pining to go back and…… “And what,” I asked myself. He has a girlfriend for whom he risks his life, to meet at night. He is committed, so please shut all the doors to nowhere, which you are trying to open Mohi. Having reprimanded myself, I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep. I am not in the mood for conversing with Appa. I felt like I was choking. Wondering if Jagan had left to meet his girlfriend, while aunty was not home and uncle would be sleeping. All I want to do now is cry loudly in frustration.

At the same time, Jagan was holding a hair clip Mohini had left behind. He was feeling empty, like all his energy had been sucked away, while uncle’s car left the compound. “How can Mohini not understand my feelings for her. She must really have lost it. How naïve to believe all the stories and yarns I had spun to make her feel jealous. I, too, should have given her a small hint at least. But every time I see her I feel like I want to see her face turn red in anger or her lips pout in confusion. Such cute expressions, I had to control myself from tapping her cheeks and winking at her,” Jagan thought to himself.

He spoke his thoughts aloud in the privacy of his room, "The first time I saw her draped in a pale pink half saree, she looked like she was blushing. Or, was it the reflection of the saree on her cheeks. She came into the room following her father, and looked up to look at me. Her eyes drawn with a thin line of kohl and the tiny dot of black pottu on her face was so captivating that I shook a little like I was assaulted. I just batted my eyelids and did not speak a word. Amma smiled at her in welcome and told me, 'Jaggu you called her a ‘barrel' last time, see she has grown into a real beauty.' I tugged at my mother’s pallu and looked at my uncle and smiled. I was shy, but why? I didn't understand. Her single ponytail was gone and she had reasonably thick plaited hair. We played carrom to pass the time. I liked the way her eyes narrowed and lips folded to focus on the hit. I lost several games and she gave me a sarcastic look. How do I tell her I am a champion and I just want to see her win. The next few days I played a little drama to capture her attention and spend more time with her. I thought she was smart and would see through the farce. She just left with no emotion. All I want to do now is cry loudly in frustration." he punched his pillow.

Glossary

Pavadai: a long skirt falling up to the ankles. Oonjal. ‘ thatha’
Oonjal: a swing with a wide wooden plank found in most houses
Appa: Father
Thatha: Grand father
Thinnai: a raised square or rectangle platform at the entrance of every house.
Nandhavanam: a garden adjacent to every temple.

Image (c) istock.com