Old Skin and Young Bones || I have a poor memory. Some friends call my condition a blessing. While it does have its perks - like the ability to forget before I forgive - everything beautiful eventually blurs away. I struggle to keep memories from wafting out of my existence by outlining them, repeatedly over time. Telling their story, filling the escaped bits with my own creation. Hoping to contain it for however long I can. Kerala is one of these memories. I waited outside the local theatre, with ill-tempered Kathakali performers preparing themselves for the show. That’s when she walked towards me. Wearing a sari, old skin and young bones, she enquired about the elephant that splashed water on me earlier that day. I told her that it was lovely, and that she and her husband should try going for it. The play begins. She wanted to sit in the front row, close to the performance. Her husband instructed her to sit near the aisle. She refused. Not in a subservient way. Nor in a rebellious one. She simply sat and watched the performance, mouth agape, glasses reflecting the kathakali’s antics. Her husband, who sat near the aisle slowly inched towards her and sat beside her. I was amused. Next morning. I sit in the hotel’s dingy restaurant. I had just kicked a cockroach and it disappeared. So I scanned the floor for the revengeful insect. That’s when sari-lady and her husband enter. She sits on the table beside mine and begins speaking. I learn that she is from the north of the country. That she is old. That she has children who have gone abroad. She and her husband have seen every inch of the country. I tell her this is my first trip anywhere. She looks at me aghast. She tells me about the Himalayas. About how I should go there next. She says that they’re more beautiful than the Alps. She hasn’t worn her glasses, so I can’t see my awestruck face. Her husband gets up and drifts out to the exit. She almost follows him out, but my friends latch onto her. Asking her how she manages to keep the vigour in her 65 year old bones, this far away from home. She replies, “The world is my home. I have to visit every room. Today this is my home. Tomorrow some other place will be.” Her old husband returns 10 minutes later. “We were supposed to leave!” The rest of Kerala slowly peels away with time. But I make sure I keep returning to the memory of this lady. Outlining it. || Theme: Trips Trip: Kerala Gypsy: Ricardo Vaz
Posted on: Fri, 16 Jan 2015 09:08:41 +0000
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