There was something strange happening in the world that Bhaskaran inhabited. It was getting smaller. He focused his attention on the calendar hanging on the wall. Every time it got smaller, till he couldn’t see it any more. He decided to take the matter head on and write to God himself. So he took out a sheet of paper from his folder and put it neatly on his writing desk. Today was his birthday and he had turned seventy nine. A year from now i would be all of eighty, he said to himself and mentally noted to make this a significant point of argument. “After all a man approaching his eighty do need to be treated with some dignity” he argued. He looked out of his cottage window and noticed the hibiscus blossom in bright red. He still hadn’t got used to the laptop his son sent for him. It lay on the corner of the cupboard, stacked among other unused gadgets. Bhaskaran took up the phone and called his son. A voice at the other end sounded drowsy and extremely irritated
“What’s it? You should have some sense of time when you call. It’s almost midnight here”.
“I am thinking...” Bhaskaran stuttered for words. “The hibiscus has flowered”, he said. He was surprised by the vigour in his own voice.
What you need is a good sleep. The voice slammed the phone.
Bhaskaran came out of his room, lingered for few moment and bend down to observe the hibiscus flower. The hibiscus, vivid red as if fountain of blood frozen in moment, swayed in light breeze. He touched the petals and felt its vague softness. He sat there for some time. He heard someone opening the main gate. Two middle aged women whispered among themselves as they walked with unsure gait.
“Who is it?” asked Bhaskaran, trying to focus and locate something familiar in the approaching strangers. He took off his spectacles and wiped wetness off his eyes “Who is it i don’t seem to recognise you?”
“We are from the temple committee” said the woman who was shorter of the two. “You will have to buy the festival coupon” she insisted. The other woman opened a ledger on her palm and proceeded as if to write.
Bhaskaran gave a wry smile “ah it remains the same doesn’t it” he murmured to himself. His eyes wandered back to the hibiscus. “Do look at this flower” he said without any gesture. There was something in the sight of the flower that was quietening. It exuded a sense of calm “as if everything is right with the world” Bhaskaran was talking to himself “as if this is the way the world should be...everything arranged neatly and perfectly”.
“Its hibiscus is it not” said the shorter woman, loquacious of the two, quite unsure of what else to say. They stood there hesitantly, wondering at the old man scrutinising the flower.
“Why don’t you both come in” as he entered the house he kept the door half open.
“No that’s all right we are fine here” the woman insisted.
“It’s my birthday, you must come” he held the door firmly for them to enter.
“Well ...good to know that” said the woman, while the other woman smiled sheepishly “happy birthday to you”.
Bhaskaran acknowledged the wishing with an awkward shake of head. “Wait here” he said and laboured into the kitchen and brought a plate of sweet almost immediately. The colourful rectangle shaped saccharines were arranged tastefully. It was clear that effort and time had gone into arranging it.
“Here please have it” he said extending it to the pleasantly surprised women.
“Oh thank you”. They said almost in unison. “Thank you so very much. May you live longer” added the shorter woman.
For a moment Bhaskaran’s face was blank as though a gush of strong wind had caught him a second before his instinct could take control. For that short instance he stood there vulnerable to the world, his eyes wide open in a mix of fear and incomprehension. Next minute he was smiling and thanking the women profusely. He thought of hugging them but decided not to. The short woman rushed out “I will be back in a second” she said and returned with the hibiscus she had plucked.
“This for you” she said “..and thank you for the sweets. We will have to leave now”.
Bhaskaran took the flower, his hand shook a bit and he fumbled “do visit me once in a while if you pass by this way”. He wasn’t looking at them as they made their way out. He gazed at the flower and it seems to have sprouted out of his fingers. Its liveliness devoured him. He sat exhausted.
“What’s it? You should have some sense of time when you call. It’s almost midnight here”.
“I am thinking...” Bhaskaran stuttered for words. “The hibiscus has flowered”, he said. He was surprised by the vigour in his own voice.
What you need is a good sleep. The voice slammed the phone.
Bhaskaran came out of his room, lingered for few moment and bend down to observe the hibiscus flower. The hibiscus, vivid red as if fountain of blood frozen in moment, swayed in light breeze. He touched the petals and felt its vague softness. He sat there for some time. He heard someone opening the main gate. Two middle aged women whispered among themselves as they walked with unsure gait.
“Who is it?” asked Bhaskaran, trying to focus and locate something familiar in the approaching strangers. He took off his spectacles and wiped wetness off his eyes “Who is it i don’t seem to recognise you?”
“We are from the temple committee” said the woman who was shorter of the two. “You will have to buy the festival coupon” she insisted. The other woman opened a ledger on her palm and proceeded as if to write.
Bhaskaran gave a wry smile “ah it remains the same doesn’t it” he murmured to himself. His eyes wandered back to the hibiscus. “Do look at this flower” he said without any gesture. There was something in the sight of the flower that was quietening. It exuded a sense of calm “as if everything is right with the world” Bhaskaran was talking to himself “as if this is the way the world should be...everything arranged neatly and perfectly”.
“Its hibiscus is it not” said the shorter woman, loquacious of the two, quite unsure of what else to say. They stood there hesitantly, wondering at the old man scrutinising the flower.
“Why don’t you both come in” as he entered the house he kept the door half open.
“No that’s all right we are fine here” the woman insisted.
“It’s my birthday, you must come” he held the door firmly for them to enter.
“Well ...good to know that” said the woman, while the other woman smiled sheepishly “happy birthday to you”.
Bhaskaran acknowledged the wishing with an awkward shake of head. “Wait here” he said and laboured into the kitchen and brought a plate of sweet almost immediately. The colourful rectangle shaped saccharines were arranged tastefully. It was clear that effort and time had gone into arranging it.
“Here please have it” he said extending it to the pleasantly surprised women.
“Oh thank you”. They said almost in unison. “Thank you so very much. May you live longer” added the shorter woman.
For a moment Bhaskaran’s face was blank as though a gush of strong wind had caught him a second before his instinct could take control. For that short instance he stood there vulnerable to the world, his eyes wide open in a mix of fear and incomprehension. Next minute he was smiling and thanking the women profusely. He thought of hugging them but decided not to. The short woman rushed out “I will be back in a second” she said and returned with the hibiscus she had plucked.
“This for you” she said “..and thank you for the sweets. We will have to leave now”.
Bhaskaran took the flower, his hand shook a bit and he fumbled “do visit me once in a while if you pass by this way”. He wasn’t looking at them as they made their way out. He gazed at the flower and it seems to have sprouted out of his fingers. Its liveliness devoured him. He sat exhausted.
