A rangOli story - Part VI

May be the goddess Sarasvati was kind to him, may be he was hardworking, may be he was lucky, may be a combination of all these. Whatever may be the reason, within a few years, Chandru got his Master’s degree in engineering and was on his way to the US for higher studies. Usha was in the elementary school. I still remember the rangOli I drew on the day when he departed for the States. It was a pushpaka vimAna!

Chandru used to make frequent calls. The house was empty when he left for college. Though he was not living with us on a daily basis, we used to meet at least once in three or four months for a few days during his holidays. Even that is not possible now. His father used to take it in a philosophical sort of way. However, I could not. Of course, the person most affected was Usha. Chandru used to send one thing or other frequently to keep her amused and happy. She used to show off to her friends proudly telling them that her brother sent them especially for her from America. I used to feel really awful. Not seeing him for a few months was difficult. The thought of years of separation made me cry. My husband used to console me telling that nothing in the world is permanent and undue attachment leads to sorrow. May be, since he is a man, he has more fortitude. I felt lonely and lost. Since our age difference was not considerable (only six or seven), I used to feel that I had no friends. I used to remember our frequent arguments. For a few months I did not draw rangOlis with flowers as they were his favourites. Whenever any sweet dish was made for festivals, I used to think how Chandru used to like them. I used to take just a little bite of the dish if it was offered to God, otherwise I never ate any of them. If my husband wanted to taste any sweet dish he used to ask his daughter whether she wanted to taste it.

Occasionally Chandru used to talk about a girl. Her name is mallI, an abridged version of mallikA. She is an American girl. One day he called me and told me that the he was in love with her and so was she and asked me to inform his father. I knew what he would tell. After all, being from a conservative family, it was a big deal to cross the seven seas and go abroad. But, marrying an American girl, a kirastAni? That is out of question. After a few days, we received another call from Chandru. This time he talked for a minute or two and then gave the phone to mallI. We began to talk. I was surprised to hear mallI speaking a few broken words in our language. With my broken Indian English and her broken Kannada we conversed. In the end, I learnt that they were deeply in love and marriage is the only option. I broached the topic with his father who was dead set against it. Then for a week I expressed the turmoil in the house through my rangOlis. One day it was the sky and the earth, the oldest imagery since the Vedic times for love. Another day, it was a bridge connecting a chasm. Another day it was the moon and the jasmine flowers. Incidentally, mallI’s real name is Jasmine! As their love flowered, it is the name mallI that they used between themselves. After a week of convincing, the initial hostility of my husband was gone even though he was still not warm to the idea. I told him that times have changed and it is not desirable to have a wall of disagreement and discord between the father and the son. Unlike us, the youngsters of this generation nowadays want to decide for themselves and face the consequences. When next time Chandru called, I informed him of the good tidings. Later, the father talked at length with his son and with his future daughter-in-law.

The marriage took place in the university town where both were pursuing their doctoral studies. It was impossible for us to go and bless them in person. Apart from mentally blessing them heartily we could not do anything from here. We went to the town to worship our family deity in the hill temple and sought blessings for their happiness and prosperity. I still remember the rangOli I drew on that red lettered day. It was a saptapadi (seven steps) surrounded by roses. Roses, roses all the way- may their paths in this life and may be in the succeeding births (if they exist) be strewn with all the best in the world. If wishes were horses, I would have jumped on them and gone to America! They called us immediately after the marriage. Going on an extended honeymoon was out of question as they did not have enough savings. Besides, they both were busy preparing for the defence of their research theses.

... to be continued

(In the initial version of Part V, due to oversight and carelessness on my part, a paragraph from Part IV was repeated. Thanks to latAjI, Part V was subsequently edited and that is why it is a bit short.)