My baton of love

I gazed out of my window. It is quarter past six of a warm morning. The imperatorial sun is peeping through the guileless clouds and its rays are pecking the forehead of my seven-storied building. The timid and humble beams caressed my cheeks and the soft gentle breeze amused with my hairs mischievously. The autumn has all set in and the tall oak trees glistened the glory of the view. The trees planted in rows greeted people with the perfect blend of compassion and charisma. Some leaves have turned yellow and pale while others were still waiting for their turn in the lush green. Perhaps a pristine lifetime view.

“Renu.... your tea....” Manni’s voice hit my ears. “I am leaving for my field observations,” Manni said with her usual grin like a cheshrine cat. She landed the cup of tea with utmost care not to spill a drop and slipped out of the room waving goodbye without waiting for my comment or gesture. Manni; Maninder hailed from Punjab and was sharing my apartment for the last three years. I was fortunate enough to have her by my side in all thick and thin. She was an excellent chef and cooking was her passionate hobby. Her magical fingers would end up with mouth-watering chole bhature in weekends which would rather offer me heaven in Texas. We both were pursuing a doctorate and this ravishing and panoramic glance has though promised for alluring memories but has extended terrific and bitter experiences during our sail for academic excellence.

 I contained the cup of tea in my hands and took a deep breath. The he feverish aroma of ginger and cardamom from the tea coupled with the soft breeze reached my alveoli within seconds and hiked my oxygen level. I was tickled pink on the arrival of the uninterrupted addicting fragrance of Manni’s special tea. My amma too used to prepare such flaunting Tea. The word Amma has so much divine power within that I travelled miles within milliseconds to the streaky suburbs of my native land Madurai which would be puddled with water once it rains. My cognition skipped all hurdles and swayed through my village road quarrelling with my younger sister Bhanu for a handful of tender mangoes and chasing my dear pet Appu. My priceless bundles of nostalgia got unlocked. The aromatic smell of amma’s sambar and delicious Idli awoke my appetite. Sumptuous food had always been my weaker side. And, my dear Bhanu who would always tease me. Her favourite hobby was to hide my belongings and to fool me for the whole day. but once the clock struck 5 she knew Appa will be back from work and she may get scolding. this very thought makes her the most innocent and ideal sister who handovers me back my belongings with a tender note of sorry otherwise appa may kick her.

My Appa is perhaps the most generous person. I and my sister would race to open the door for him as we hear the horn of his blue Bajaj Chetak scooter and greet him hilariously. His smiling attire reciprocated and resonated within us. After the bath, he would straightway enter the kitchen with his songs and helps Amma with household chores. Our amma too is a music lover and music teacher. She would always recite some folk songs or old melodies to intensify cooking. Occasionally appa’s songs and dances add more flavour to the recipes. Ever since he enters our house, the house turns into a home. I remember the time when I and my sister would rejoice with applaud on his arrival from official trips. We all four sat for hours with usual chit chats, pranks and jokes. We would tease amma and she would leave the group with her usual frosty nosed stare. 

I and my sister were privileged enough to be the girls in the village to own a cycle that was otherwise the monopoly of boys. Appa taught us swimming at the age of 8 and 10 by ignoring the usual taunts of extra forward. He taught us to be ambitious and to chase dreams against all social standings. While appearing for doctoral scholarship, I had no idea that iron is hot enough and is awaiting a strike. Once my strenuous effort reaped sweet fruits, I was muddled and struck, not knowing what next. Realising my callous expressions and awkward behaviour Appa could guess the Tycoon going within me. He consoled me with the warmth of love and instilled the confidence of being worthy. He bestowed his faith on me and that is the reason why a Tamil Brahmin girl from an orthodox affluent family is pursuing higher studies at Texas at the age of 26 and is still unmarried.

My knowledge of English was not fascinating as I did my schooling from it Tamil medium school and my poor communication skill left me devastated here. I discovered my narrow skill in culture language and research in this exotic land. My subtle heart cried from within “Why did I choose this? Far from the hug and love of my appa?’

 When I stepped into the academic arena I sensed that I set my foot into a multiplex of chocolates and each one tasted more relishing than another. I never knew that they are so much unexplored and untapped arenas to work upon. It was perhaps the best a research scholar could dream for. My ambitions got feathers, but my decried destiny gave me hard bites. My ill-luck ended with my left leg fracture and made me completely bedridden for three months. My precious time for project completion under scholarship was exhausting fast. My first autumn in Texas passed amidst physical and mental combat in bed. The rational agony and resigned torso together held me back. Phone calls were the only Solace. I could see my amma’s eyes welled upon my miseries and the puddled eyelashes of Bhanu. But my Appa stood stern and rigid like a banyan tree. His magical words settled the hurricane within me. I sought the remnants Of broken confidence from beneath unknowingly.

Time swept and I rose with my constraints to leap Forward. The next autumn too surprised me with more rigid unceasing drudgery to overrule the loss incurred earlier. Fieldworks, observations, analysis, reviews, corrections and night out all took lion's share of my year. And that too passed.

This is my third autumn here and now I am consummated with my research. During this period of my wait for results, I endured warm welcomed by every fallen leaf, every tender twig and green exuberant around. Texas has always surpassed me with scintillating memories ranging from cloud nine joys to melancholy strife. Everything has changed during these three years. My Amma has stopped her music classes, Bhanu has joined post-graduation, but only one feeling remains unchanged- my Appa; my baton of love, the fragrance of faith which kept me toiling hard day by day. It is an ode to this autumn that keeps singing with notes of applaud and laurels that helped me to revive and rise like a phoenix from ashes.

My string of reminiscence got shattered as I heard the ringing bells from a church nearby. My eyes contemplated the clock which was ready to strike seven. My sanity got revived to the present. Today is our 'Accomplishment Day', the day for results.

The autumn along with me is graciously keen to know the sequel of my exertions. My insight sternly relied on that I am ahead of the pack. Moreover, my baton of love said ' This is another mellifluous episode. Let the ode flow`.

I finished the last of the sip of tea and stood up zealously to greet this day with exuberance.

Glossary

Chole bhature- Punjabi dish made using white flour and gram

Amma- mother

Appa father

Sambar- south Indian delight cooked using pulses and vegetables