The Sign

"No women beyond this point" the sign read. It was a handwritten note that had been scribbled on a sheet of cardboard and mounted on the bark of a tamarind tree. Petite Supraja looked at the board and sighed. The abode of Maisamma located on the summit had called out to her. There was no other place she wanted to be. Oh, what she could give to scale this rocky terrain and conquer the beautiful hill, step by little step, pedal by pedal. But in this little hamlet, the sign was not in her favor.

Supraja and her friends had cycled for over twenty kilometers to locate this spot. When they were all set to begin pedaling up the slope, Rama, a man claiming to be the guard appeared out of nowhere. Pointing to the board, he refused to let Supraja go any further. When her friends asked him for a reason, he failed to answer why. He was staring at Supraja with glassy eyes. Was this an orthodox man's refusal to keep a girl from climbing the hill? Or was the podgy watchman afraid she would protest? Or wait…was it an earnest plea to help him retain his job? Whatever his intention, it meant Supraja could not venture further into the trek with her friends. Supraja's male companions dropped their wallets and expensive mobiles in the basket of her bicycle. "Please take care of them, dear guardian goddess," Mahesh said, as he bowed to offer his wallet to her. "Stay safe, Soupy! I am sure Namrata will join you in a few minutes. Do not venture out alone anywhere!" Ankit winked at her. This was too much irony for a day!

In a short while, Namrata's bicycle wobbled towards the spot where Supraja had stationed herself. Her arrival drew more anxious looks from Rama. Will more girls join her now? Are they all going to protest? The bizarre scenes of women from the village protesting against the Sarpanch in the past flashed across his mind. Who should he call before the situation goes out of control? The Sarpanch was not answering his calls. Rama tried very hard to think on his feet. His limbs had frozen. The chilly winds of the winter morning were numbing his ability to think.

"Rama sir!" Supraja called out to him. Rama almost had a heart attack. He stared blankly at her without responding. "Rama sir!" Supraja repeated. Rama did not seem to be interested in hearing anything more. “No ladies” he curtly replied. "Rama sir. Can you show me the way to the lake?", this time it was Namrata who asked him. Rama showed her the way, using the 5-foot long stick he was leaning on. How emotionally draining these few moments had been. Sarpanch’s car was nowhere to be seen. 

As Namrata and Supraja prepared to cycle towards the lake, a moss green jeep rolled into the scene. “Wait!” Rama stopped the two girls. A lean old man in an electric blue kurta, silk dhoti, and heavily oiled hair got off the car and stood near Rama. The air around him was thick with the smell of cheap perfume. The wisdom that comes with age had done little to inhibit his roving eyes, in fact, it lent an air of arrogance to them. Rama too was a different man now. Those eyes of his in no way resembled the diffident pair that had pleaded to Supraja a few minutes back. “Rama told me you are waiting for your boyfriends. Why don’t you girls wait in my home? It is not safe here. My house is open to tourists like you” the old man told the girls. “Boyfriends?” Supraja said.

Rama hurriedly opened the door of the 4 by 4 and waited for the girls to get in. There was an uncomfortable buzz of activity around the two girls. Supraja stood in dismay, unsure of what to do next. She wanted to break into a run. Suddenly, Namrata picked up a phone from the basket and made a call. “Ok! We will be there. Oh, the vehicle number? BMG3456. And the address? Ok, one moment!” she said and then looked up at the old man. “Sir, can you please give me your address? My brother says he will pick Supraja and me from your place since it is so lonely here. He also thanks you for your kind help” she requested. “Oh and please give us a minute. We want to snap some photos of this place so we can show it to our parents!”

Supraja took the cue and went on a selfie spree. The old man let out a guttural scream in frustration and then hurriedly got into the car, trying to avoid being photographed. He asked Rama to get in too. As an afterthought perhaps, Rama opened the door again and ran to the tamarind tree. He plucked the board and ran back into the car. In no time, the car sped away leaving a cloud of dust behind.

Supraja and Namrata hugged the bark where the board had hung and broke down in tears. Namrata unloaded a tile from her cycle and placed it by

the tree.

‘In loving memory of Silvia.

To all the girls seeking this hilltop, Maisamma welcomes you’