In the silence of the night
Mother insisted that i wear the sweater. The temple town was on a hill and it did get cold in the night. The room was spacious and had rows of hard wood panelled windows that overlook the street. The street was still wet with night rain and had puddles in many places. There were noises coming from every part of the street. Noises awaken my morning abruptly that i wide eyed stare at the street and try locate. I don’t like it, it’s not like home. Mother is happy she says if i pray well it will make me a ‘big person’ when i grow up. She hummed a song as she walked around the room and got ready for her morning bath. She bathed twice in a day –one in the morning and another in the noon, and followed an elaborate ritual of cleaning herself, so much so that her days were punctuated by her preparation for bath and aftermath. And the hours between these daily rituals she prayed, and prayed rather fervently every time adding new paraphernalia as offering and promising more.
The gopuram of the temple could be seen from the far end of the window. I had to stretch half my face through the parallel iron bars to get the view. They smell strange these iron bars, the coat of light green paint came out in tiny pieces as i scrape it with my teeth. It didn’t smell right this place. It’s not like home where every nook and corner had its own special smell that waft and mingle into my sense in recognition. It had started to drizzle; a light smoky curtain begins to envelope the outside world. The coconut palm fronds collected these tiny droplets into rivulet that stream through the stem forming a puddle around the tree. Mother says if the rain is going to get heavy we might not be able to go the temple. That is a bad omen. She prayed for the rain to stop. She looked out at the sky, and scanned the dark foreboding clouds and thought it will stop raining at the very instance. And it did. She had a knack for these things, predictions, premonitions or was it clairvoyance. She dressed me in my favourite cloth. The sooner we got out of the room the clouds seem to have burst, it poured the way i have never seen. Soon the streets were filled with murky water. I ran from one window to another to see how the rain fell from different window. Very soon the world will be filled with water, mother said. I laughed. She said it wasn’t funny. I told her i didn’t like it here and want to go home.
It kept raining through the evening and the night. Power lines had collapsed reducing everything into smoky silhouettes in the faint moonlight. Mother kept talking the whole time, i didn’t listen to her. She was like that when it got dark, she will talk. I couldn’t walk in the dark, the floor wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel familiar, there wasn’t any assurance in the way i sensed the ground. Everything was strange and different. Every step was like walking into an abyss. Even the rain wasn’t the same. It pounded the roof in some primal angst. I asked mother why can’t we go home. I don’t like it here. But she wasn’t listening. The window swung and rocked on its hinge all night. It was as though it was having a conversation with the night. I didn’t say a word. I watched the rain through the bleary sky till my eyes got tired. Water had filled up the streets and was rising at a steady rate. Soon the water was pouring into the room through the windows. It was water all around. Mother asked me whether i was alright. I told her i want to go home. The rain stopped at the very instance, the water gushed through the cervices for a very long time till it was reduced to drops. The ground had sucked up all the water. Slowly the world was heaving back and claiming its space. The moonlight sky was lit in extraordinary brilliance and radiated through every single drop clinging everywhere in the world. I was happy and told mother that we should stay here forever.
Mother insisted that i wear the sweater. The temple town was on a hill and it did get cold in the night. The room was spacious and had rows of hard wood panelled windows that overlook the street. The street was still wet with night rain and had puddles in many places. There were noises coming from every part of the street. Noises awaken my morning abruptly that i wide eyed stare at the street and try locate. I don’t like it, it’s not like home. Mother is happy she says if i pray well it will make me a ‘big person’ when i grow up. She hummed a song as she walked around the room and got ready for her morning bath. She bathed twice in a day –one in the morning and another in the noon, and followed an elaborate ritual of cleaning herself, so much so that her days were punctuated by her preparation for bath and aftermath. And the hours between these daily rituals she prayed, and prayed rather fervently every time adding new paraphernalia as offering and promising more.
The gopuram of the temple could be seen from the far end of the window. I had to stretch half my face through the parallel iron bars to get the view. They smell strange these iron bars, the coat of light green paint came out in tiny pieces as i scrape it with my teeth. It didn’t smell right this place. It’s not like home where every nook and corner had its own special smell that waft and mingle into my sense in recognition. It had started to drizzle; a light smoky curtain begins to envelope the outside world. The coconut palm fronds collected these tiny droplets into rivulet that stream through the stem forming a puddle around the tree. Mother says if the rain is going to get heavy we might not be able to go the temple. That is a bad omen. She prayed for the rain to stop. She looked out at the sky, and scanned the dark foreboding clouds and thought it will stop raining at the very instance. And it did. She had a knack for these things, predictions, premonitions or was it clairvoyance. She dressed me in my favourite cloth. The sooner we got out of the room the clouds seem to have burst, it poured the way i have never seen. Soon the streets were filled with murky water. I ran from one window to another to see how the rain fell from different window. Very soon the world will be filled with water, mother said. I laughed. She said it wasn’t funny. I told her i didn’t like it here and want to go home.
It kept raining through the evening and the night. Power lines had collapsed reducing everything into smoky silhouettes in the faint moonlight. Mother kept talking the whole time, i didn’t listen to her. She was like that when it got dark, she will talk. I couldn’t walk in the dark, the floor wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel familiar, there wasn’t any assurance in the way i sensed the ground. Everything was strange and different. Every step was like walking into an abyss. Even the rain wasn’t the same. It pounded the roof in some primal angst. I asked mother why can’t we go home. I don’t like it here. But she wasn’t listening. The window swung and rocked on its hinge all night. It was as though it was having a conversation with the night. I didn’t say a word. I watched the rain through the bleary sky till my eyes got tired. Water had filled up the streets and was rising at a steady rate. Soon the water was pouring into the room through the windows. It was water all around. Mother asked me whether i was alright. I told her i want to go home. The rain stopped at the very instance, the water gushed through the cervices for a very long time till it was reduced to drops. The ground had sucked up all the water. Slowly the world was heaving back and claiming its space. The moonlight sky was lit in extraordinary brilliance and radiated through every single drop clinging everywhere in the world. I was happy and told mother that we should stay here forever.
