The wait.

"Ayya, this way, the old woman must be in her hut, ranting to herself, haven't seen her the past few days; poor thing probably just biding her time for her final journey..."

The euphemism seemed out-of-place. I seemed out-of-place. I walked in the direction that the turbaned man pointed me to.

"Thanks...thanks a lot."

I pressed a ten rupee note in his hands and he walked away after gracing me with a toboaco-stained toothy smile. The nondescript hut stood amidst a bunch of similar looking huts. Several curious eyes followed my footsteps. A middle aged man with a prominent mustache sat on his haunch in front of the hut holding on to a stick and chewing what I imagined was betel leaves.

"I am looking for Malliga amma..."

He spat loudly, a few flecks landing on my shiny black shoes. Silence. I repeated my question and waited.

"She is dead."

I felt dizzy for a few moments. A light drizzle started to fall. I closed my eyes for a second and silently started walking back.

"Who was that? Did he say my name? Wretched fellow...won't let me live in peace...I say, kill me and take what little jewels I wear on me..."

The words were music to my ears. I smiled to myself and walked back towards the hut.

***"Amma, amma, come here, he walks, Raja walks!"

Malliga got up in a rush to fetch Mrs.Leela Kapoor, when the toddler decided he had had enough excitement for the day and sat down with a plop. Mrs.Kapoor walked in a second later, a flicker of disappointment, annoyance? crossing her pretty face.

"Amma, he walked for a few seconds...he walked!"

"He did? I am sure he will walk again...it's time for his nap now..."

She picked up the baby and walked out of the room, cooing endearments to him all the way. Malliga watched the mother and baby for a few moments. She swallowed hard, her momentary joy masked suddenly by pain.

***
It took me a few seconds before my eyes adjusted to the musty darkness inside the hut. She sat huddled in a corner holding a small rusted iron chest in her hands. The brownish yellow saree hung limply on her once nimble body. Two red glass bangles clinked on her thin wrists - she loved bangles. She wore thick glasses and from behind them peered the same, gentle eyes. Even time knew not to interfere with untainted innocence.

"Sit down. How can I help you?"

Her gentility surprised me. I cleared my throat and said, "I am a close friend of the Kapoor family, following Leela...Leela aunty's death, I have been asked to draw the family tree by close friends of the family, something we can preserve as a family heirloom...I was told you would have some details about them, incidents that I can mention in my compilation..."

My voice trailed, convincingly, I hoped.

She remained silent for a few moments and I wondered if this was all a huge mistake. Maybe she did not remember anything of her past, but how could she forget?
She broke into my thoughts in a soft voice that I strained to hear, "Leela amma...is no more?" She looked at a distance, lost in the ghosts of her past and the words came pouring out.

I listened mesmerized, every once in a while pretending to take down notes and then her soft voice would wash over me again. She spoke of Leela amma and ayya as though she saw them in front of her eyes, she painted a poignant picture from her memories and I listened like a little boy. Sometimes, her words would just dance all around me enveloping me in their embrace and I would revel in their sweet sounds, not even making an attempt to understand them...

As she spoke, her nose ring sometimes glinted in the single streak of light coming from the window. I watched her and listened to her stories - Are these the stories that I have missed for so long?

"Ayya, you must be hungry, will you have some koozh (porridge)?"

She did not wait for me to object, I was not going to object.

"Raja..." I looked up. "My Raja babu, he was an angel..."

Her voice seemed to break and I watched silently as she boiled some rice. She spoke about her Raja for an hour, she spoke of tiny baby steps, the first word - Amma, little games they played and the stories she would tell him to put him to sleep...images of a past life awoke to mingle with tears of the present...

***"What does my baby want?"

"Ma...amma"

Mrs.Kapoor played with her child, he had begun to speak words and even understand whole sentences. She laughed delightedly and asked,

"Where is amma?"

The child squirmed out of her hands and leaned towards Malliga. Malliga took the child and hugged him with all the love that only a mother can feel. She was a young mother too and she did not realize her blunder before it was too late.

"You promised! you promised you will not interfere...he is my child now!"

"Amma, forgive me, please forgive me this once. I cannot live without seeing my Raja..."
The love and pain in the tears that streamed down her cheeks were not a match for the possessiveness and insecurity that the other felt.

"I may be cursed by Him to not bear one of my own but he is my own now and I am his mother, not you...I beg of you, do not steal him from me..."

After all, Malliga had promised. She could not bear the thought of her precious gift growing up fatherless and two years back she had done what her dead husband would have been proud of. She had no right to claim him her own now.

The next morning her heart was heavy with a pain so ruthless, it helped her forget her sorrow. She kissed her Raja one last time on his tiny head and walked out of the house forever.
***
An angry thunder rumbled outside the hut, but I felt so light, I thought I could face anything. I thanked her for the food and left without saying what had to be said. I feared I would spoil the bonding...sometimes ignorance carries with it a bliss that knowledge knows not how to create. And I was not prepared for the questions.

I walked outside into the rain and said, "Amma, I shall be back again next week, this is a long project and...we have a lot to talk..."

A hint of a smile adorned her face and she said, "Raja...ayya, today was worth the wait...I will wait for you next week."

***