She was an illiterate ordinary woman. She used to sit near our bus stop under the banyan tree, with basketful of flowers. What is her name? I don’t know. I never asked her. Still I enjoyed a secret pleasure in watching her movements. Ohhh..I cannot type… my left arm is aching.. severe pain .. ooohh..this sling is not enough to reduce the pain of a broken elbow. But, I prefer suffering this pain to stop typing. Because, if I don’t write this now, I will never write this. So, I am ignoring the pain…
Where did I stop? Yes, I was telling about her. She was black, aged ( may be 55 or 60) and looked like a Tamilian. She smiled at every new person coming to the bus-stop, and asked “ poovvu venama ?” When she smiled, her stone laded mookkuththi also smiled. Every day, I had the duty to spend 15 minutes at the bus-stop, as my bus was not at all punctual !
This morning, when I reached the bus-stop, she was there, sitting alone. She smiled at me. I too, smiled and leisurely stood at a distance, watching her selling the flowers.
A small girl in school uniform, came to her for flower. The woman smiled at her, took a piece of ‘mullappoomaala’ in her hand, measured it with her arm, added some extra length with another lovely smile at the girl, and handed it over to her.
I watched the girl trying to fix the flower on her hair with great effort, under a beautiful hair clip. Before I could help her, the woman stretched her hands to help the girl and touched her hair affectionately, and to her dismay, the hair clip came into her hands in two pieces ! The next moment, the girl turned back, looked at the broken clip and slapped the woman with a furious face…!
I turned my face from the scene…and touched my cheeks with fingers… my fingers burnt..! My heart, too..
Where did I stop? Yes, I was telling about her. She was black, aged ( may be 55 or 60) and looked like a Tamilian. She smiled at every new person coming to the bus-stop, and asked “ poovvu venama ?” When she smiled, her stone laded mookkuththi also smiled. Every day, I had the duty to spend 15 minutes at the bus-stop, as my bus was not at all punctual !
This morning, when I reached the bus-stop, she was there, sitting alone. She smiled at me. I too, smiled and leisurely stood at a distance, watching her selling the flowers.
A small girl in school uniform, came to her for flower. The woman smiled at her, took a piece of ‘mullappoomaala’ in her hand, measured it with her arm, added some extra length with another lovely smile at the girl, and handed it over to her.
I watched the girl trying to fix the flower on her hair with great effort, under a beautiful hair clip. Before I could help her, the woman stretched her hands to help the girl and touched her hair affectionately, and to her dismay, the hair clip came into her hands in two pieces ! The next moment, the girl turned back, looked at the broken clip and slapped the woman with a furious face…!
I turned my face from the scene…and touched my cheeks with fingers… my fingers burnt..! My heart, too..
2 comments:
Nice story..very well written... You have captured the mood and expressions very clearly. And the last sentence is excellent...
oh..
touching
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