The real beauty called Annie

Courtesy: Desicomments.com

Annie lay still, as still as a corpse. But she was alive, more alive than any of us. For she had to fight; she had to win over little battles that made up her life.

Her room was not a room at the working womens’ hostel I stayed in. Rather it was the space that joined two rooms with the main passageway. She occupied one of the two aluminium beds that lined the sides of the space, and had a medium-sized suitcase underneath the bed, to call of her own. She used the common bathrooms, and hung her wet towel and worn clothes on the metal railing that roofed the bed. She did not own a locker as in all probability, she did not need one!

Very few of the girls were aware of her existence. She worked nights while we slept inside our comfort zones. On Sundays, while we lazed around the common mess and consumed the ‘news-sance’ blaring from the mounted television, one part of the mind hovered around Annie. What would she be doing right now? The girl who occupies the side bed and owns only a suitcase that lay in gay abandon, what kind of a girl was she?

Was she simple living and high thinking or careless and wanton? The latter was an easy assumption while the former got us nosy, and in good spirit too!

A girls’ hostel is crazily busy on a Sunday. Girls are running around beautifying themselves – exfoliation, deep pore cleansing, herbal hair oil massage, pedicures, manicures and facials made from all kinds of ingredients from the kitchen. Basically, just about everything that society has burdened them with eons ago.

But, a chosen set like me, stayed at the rooms and indulged in small talk. While we flipped through our news dailies or women’s magazines, and spoilt ourselves with extra Sunday coffee, we got talking and somehow the conversation drifted towards that girl who occupies the side bed. This is how I came to know so much about her.

But, one day I stumbled upon much more of her story. Being an immigrant, I wasn’t much welcome by my then room mates.  It so happened that they locked me out of my room, as part of their torture tactics to drive me away. Banished from my room, I set up a temporary base on the unoccupied bed, adjacent to Annie’s. I took a day off from the job and stared at the motionless body in the next bed.

There she lay – the girl with a suitcase and no room of her own. Having no willpower to reclaim my room, I continued to wonder about Annie. She had no room to reclaim!

Annie, eventually awakened from her light dream world, and I smiled at her at once. She was frail with dark circles under her alert eyes. She might have travelled a hundred life years but her body belied that – she looked like a partially malnourished adolescent girl with no dreams shining in her eyes. I wanted to know her story.

Annie took a liking to me as I was exiled just as her, even though for a frivolous reason. And she lightened her heart to me –

Annie was a single mother of a six-year old girl and worked at an outsourcing venture, mostly in the graveyard shifts. Very harmful for the human body cycle but a great boon for people who study or work in the day, just like Annie.

Annie's mother had passed away after a long illness during her school days and later she got a step mother. Her step mother didn't bother much with little Annie and the family grew to include two more step brothers.  Her dad gave her all the love in the world; he even took her on foreign trips. But, as destiny played out, Annie's dad passed away from illness too, eventually leaving Annie to fend for herself. All the property and belongings were taken by her step family.

Annie then worked as a teacher and found moral support from her paternal aunts. But, this too did not last long as love invaded in the form of a man who said he cannot live without her. She married him and soon found out he had no stable income nor the will to give her a good life. He was a loser looking out for someone to fend for him.

Then there was trouble with the in-laws so much so that a small gathering of all his relatives accused Annie of being a loose woman. She left to never return but to her horror found out she was carrying a baby in her womb. Since then she has been working hard to make ends meet, however, the poor soul missed out on the joys of life with her daughter. She had to be at work the whole day so the little girl stayed with Annie's aunt.

Her story was getting brighter. Annie had by then managed to save enough to bring her daughter - who was turning six - to stay along with her. But, destiny had more in store. Her daughter's headaches were diagnosed to be caused from a tumour developing in her brain. Annie took help from the church and the community, who all roped in enough money for an operation to remove the tumour. This chain of events had taken a toll on Annie for the last seven years, without her ever realising it since the time she had left her own home.

Annie said she cannot cry. She knows no pain for she had surrendered to God above.

But, I had tears in my eyes and they just wouldn't stop!

Annie left the hostel soon thereafter as she was able to rent a decent flat near a school for her daughter. And I know she will be very happy in there always.

Keeping up with the Dhorkandes!

The Dhorkandes were my ex-landlord plus neighbours, and as with all ex’s, I find it impossible to forget them. Its been a peaceful two months in our new rented flat but the Dhorkande nightmare still does not cease to haunt me.

Once our LIC agent had come home visiting for his duty-bound premium collections. It was around ten-ish on a Monday. While in deep discussion about some insurance plans with the agent, I did not realise that the door hadn’t been locked. All of a sudden Lady Dhorkande just kicked open the door and barged into our living room. Her face fell ten inches to the ground, when she didn’t see what she had imagined.

I thought she would get epileptic any moment then.

The lady has an extra-sensory power of imagination, fuelled by her 24x7 watch outside her verandah and windows. Seeing a young and dashing man visit me on a weekday, especially at the time when my man has left for work, erupted the best of the wildest crap from her head. She was so certain to catch us live in action that she didn’t bother to ring the bell or give it a second thought before stomping right in.

And to top it, she was at her un-satsangly best – electrocuted hair, clumsily-clad saree, barefoot, clutching a piece of clothing in her hand. I assume she was folding this piece while at the verandah when the golden idea struck her.

My man hadn’t left for office till then. He leaves a good half an hour later but her window-watching schedule went wrong on that fateful day. The agent, my husband and me were into serious analysis about annuities, better yielding retirement plans and most importantly whether we have the means to invest in a plan now. When Lady Dhorkande kicked in like Inspector Dhoble on a raid mission, all three of us looked up, shocked, amused and slightly annoyed.

True to the Dhorkandes’ she did not apologise. I asked her if anything’s wrong but she couldn’t utter a single word with that open mouth. In fact, it was so wide open that she could swallow a hippopotamus if she were hungry. Highly dejected at not seeing a twosome, she eventually blabbered something inane, before leaving. That could have also been Inspector Dhoble leaving saddened from a massage parlour raid, while carrying a huge lump in his throat because he couldn’t save the rotting world.

But what about the lump in the brain? Lady Dhorkande has two children and three grand children, sadly she has transferred or would be transferring this lump into them. I have more about the Dhorkandes but let’s park them for some other day.

Life 2.0

It is not often that you sit back and wonder, thanks to the paucity of time or I'd rather put it as disrespect of time. But then, some days you got to slow down. You got to ceasefire the fury of the moment and just be. Today was one such day. I asked myself 'Where are you going?' I'm afraid to admit though that I had no answer to that. Then I remembered a little story of two streams and found my answer. 

Once upon a time, there were two streams that were flowing towards the edge of the valley. Said one stream to the other, 'Friend, I'm afraid of the falls ahead. Why should we keep flowing like this?' To which the other stream replied, 'What are you afraid of? The falls should be exciting!' The first stream said, 'Exciting? There may be sharp boulders or slippery moss or strange creatures ahead.' The second stream had a hearty laugh. Then as they were nearing the edge, the first stream stopped to turn his flow. 

Years had passed and they say that the first stream is now a muddy mess of water infested with strange creatures. The second stream who joyfully took the plunge, faced sharp boulders, brushed through slippery moss and made friends with strange creatures, has now grown into a clear pond!

Well! Although it may seem easy, you can imagine the pain the second stream had to go through. But such is life - you got to flow to be able to grow. In this second phase of my life, which I lovingly will refer to as 'Life 2.0', I wish to write a little more, read a little more, be kind a little more and flow a little more. 

Keep flowing. . .