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I was then given podi-chai and parampori. Parampori is a popular dish in Kerala. It is made of banana and rice powder. I spent time talking to everyone present. The children would look at me with curiosity. When they came towards me they were shunned into the house.
An old woman with a bucket of clothes on her head came from the pathway and walked towards the house looking at me. I learned that she was Kunhambu’s wife. She sat beside me in silence as veliamma told her who I was. Her tears came then. I wasn’t sure how to react. I took her hand in mine and held it in understanding. She continued to cry as I held her hand and looks at the fields beyond the path. I saw my fathers figure come out of the house with his bag and stand at the door. He glanced at me, started to walk down the path and disappeared. He still had a pleasant smile on his face. I felt Kunhamma’s eyes upon me as I thought of my father. I looked at her and smiled. She had stopped crying.
It was time for me to leave. I bid farewell to all and collected my things to start on my way back to the jeep. Kunhamma called out to me as I walked away. She was already beside me when I turned. I will accompany you till the stream. I nodded and started to walk again beside her. Neither of us spoke until we reached the stream. Once there, I crossed over the makeshift bridge and turned around.
You will come back, she inquired in a soft voice barely audible above the streams rush. I nodded. I don’t have anyone else now, she said. You will come back, she asked again. I saw that she was crying now. She held the towel that she had tied at her waist over her saree to her face and cried into it. She looked at me one last time and walked away. I looked at her receding figure for as long as I could see. I continued to look even after she had disappeared. The boy that was my father appeared from where Kunhamma had left and took my hand. I followed him up the path. Only once did he look at me. He smiled at me.
It has been 28 years since that day next to the stream. Sometimes when I think about that day, I feel ashamed about not returning to Tellicherry. I often sit on the bench by the creek behind my house and think about that evening. So many questions loom in a cloud. I wonder if there will be a day when I return. I would like to return. The boy and I have decided that when we die, we shall be buried in Tellicherry. Yes, the boy visits me sometimes. He always smiles.
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giwewizense melanie mae | May 26th, 2004
little boys are strong and pure
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