We Meet Again

I once woke my mother up in the middle of the night to ask her if gods could be blind. Half asleep, she muttered a no and went back to sleep. Sleeping next to her, listening to her breathe heavily, my mind wandered to the scent of jasmines and that apparition I'd seen many years ago. I'd thought about her often during the following years but I never saw her again for a long time after. Not until the day of my first dance performance.

"I believe it's your arangetram," Sati started, rather innocuously that morning. Her teasing, however, became unbearable soon after. By the time I was eleven, I didn't run away from home often but I did occasionally lose my temper and on the few occasions that I did I was usually drawn to that temple and the house next door where I'd last seen her. I'd heard stories about the house being haunted but Sati's mother, who worked there, never said much to confirm or deny the stories. She usually avoided the subject. That morning, when Sati's teasing went too far, I finally ran.

"Sati, I told you not to tease people," her mother was reprimanding her as I ran, furious, out the gates.

I got as far as the corner when I stopped. I saw her crossing the street at almost the same spot. This time, however, she didn't seem to need my help as she confidently stepped into the street and crossed it. The traffic seemed to melt in her path and then close in behind her, like the Red Sea, after she had passed. I rushed into the street, desperate to catch up with her. Almost immediately a cyclist swerved to avoid me even as a scooterist skidded to a halt. The cyclist cursed me even as the chaos of traffic turned into a wild commotion. Everyone on the street stopped to gawk but she barely noticed anything. She kept walking, her cane ordering everyone out of her way. I ignored the cyclist and rushed after her, and the chaos behind me continued on its way. I finally caught up with her a few shops down the street. I reached up, caught her hand and said:

"What's your name?"

"Hello Abhi, how are you?" she replied with a smile. To be honest I was more thrilled than surprised that she recognized me after all those years.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I still owe you five rupees and I never forget a debt."

I'd actually forgotten all about those five rupees but I quickly remembered my first question.

"What's your name?" I asked her again.

"Parijatha, my name is Parijatha."

In all those years of half-asleep meandering thoughts, I'd imagined a thousand wonderful names for her, but none as beautiful as that - Parijatha. It sounded divine. I'm not very religious now but when I'd first met her, I'd wondered as a six-year-old, if that apparition of a woman I'd seen was a goddess.

"Are you a god?" I asked her.

She threw her head back just a little and laughed. And although she denied it, I was convinced that she must have been an angel at least, if not a goddess.

"Do you remember where that house is, Abhi?" she asked me.

I did. Actually I remember everything about that house even today.

"Can you take me there now?"

I was still holding her hand, so I started walking and she came with me. We walked quietly for sometime before she spoke.

"Why didn't you wait for me that day, Abhi?"

"I wanted to, but my father came to pick me up and he wouldn't let me wait."

I never told my father why I wanted to stay back that day though and he always assumed I was just whining as always.

I thought she'd say something more about it but she didn't, so I asked her something instead.

"Why do you go to that bhooth bungalow?"

She laughed. "It's not a bhooth bungalow. There's a nice little girl there and I go to teach her."

I thought for sometime and then asked her something ridiculous.

"How can you teach if you're blind?"

I guess it's OK for an eleven-year-old to be insensitive, and she didn't seem to mind anyway.

"Why, I can teach very well, thank you. In fact I'm sure I could teach you something too," she replied.

If there were a reason to spend more time with her I would gladly accept it.

"What can you teach me?" I asked quickly.

"Well, is there anything you'd like to learn?"

"No," I said blankly. I still regret being that way. Not wanting to learn is like insisting on being blind.

"Let's see if there is something I can come up with," she said.

Before I could ask her anything more about it, we had to stop. We were already at the gates of that yellow house, door number six. We stopped outside and she put her hand into her purse to almost magically withdraw a ten-rupee note. I wanted to wait for her and take her back to where I had found her but she told me she had other plans.

"I'm not going straight home from here, Abhi."

Once again I was disappointed at not being able to walk her back, but I hung around waiting for her to come out. She wasn't in there long.