An Expected Answer

By Vidhiya Prashanna

Another normal day, it began with a touch of self dominated interests, functioning for families, existing for the society calling oneself, as a responsible citizen for the country. Least did Vasudha think that it would be a day that called for thoughtful pondering over various issues.

 She held her father’s hand and walked through the busy street of Chennai  Egmore  pathway.

The same clogged street vendors, shirtless men, women decked over and above for a normal routine day in their lives. To Vasudha, who just crossed 15, the characteristic mundanity of Chennai always seemed a poodle of busy active life.

She passed the street huddling all that she can resource from her father on a day’s stroll over the market area. Balloons, toys, coloured Chips packets, chocolate wrappers, chewing gum. She balanced all that she can, a few in her own bare hands and a few, tucked inside her sling bag that already bloated with all that was accumulated.

The easiest to relish and relish for as long a time as she was determined to walk was a chewing gum. She opened the wrapper, quickly tucked one into her mouth, and munched and talked to her father

“ Appa you have still not kept your promise for a new Laptop. Our desktop has a lot of problems and you know that. You still seem to forget till I remind you for everything”

Krishnan with convincing smile, intelligently covered up the so called lapse, and told Vasudha

“ Vasu dear, You picked up so many things, did appa refuse anything? Laptop is a big purchase, appa is planning and you will get it only a little later!”

An expected answer from her appa, rather Vasudha continued walking. As a product of her irritation, literally chewing the gum and vexed over her father turning down the subject of the new laptop she spat out her chewing gum. As if it was the end of all relishing, as if conditions were such that the gum did not taste any more. She could only show her agony over the voiceless gum!

She crossed the road only to realise her scarf missing. She glanced the opposite side of the road and saw her scarf wafting through the rough patched dirty road.

She left her father’s hand and said 

“ Appa my scarf had fallen over there and I will go and pick it up, in the meantime you keep purchasing  vegetables”

Krishnan checking on the smoothness and fineness of onions, said 

“ O.k. Vasu carefully cross the road”

An expected answer from her father rather, did not bother to even reply.

She crossed the road took the scarf, smeared with dirt indistinguishable  in types, she held one corner of it held it high, stretched her hand, fairly away from her neatly dressed clothes, with a frown speaking for all disgust, stood on the median to cross the road.

Incidentally she glanced back the way she came, she saw what she could not reconcile, what she could not take, what made her rethink her life, her living, her approach.

A boy of 10 or so, in tattered shirt, know not to say what colour the shirt was kneeled down in that poodled busy street and engaged himself very sincerely on something that he found as a Treasure.

 Vasudha knew what it was, she pretended to herself that it should not be what she thought it was, that was the treasure for that boy.

She failed. She could see the boy having sincerely scraped the chewing gum that Vasudha spat out. The boy succeeded for his hard labour : the Chewing gum came in complete form, with no scrape of the gum that was smeared on the road.

The fine last shearing of the gum from the road, saw Vasudha shredding in pieces. She closed her mouth with the other hand, stretching her dirty scarf still, tears in her eyes, Vasudha crossed the road with a heavy heart.

She remembered her Social Science teacher hinting about the economic divide in society. But this was the practical experience that actuated the mundane theories in text books.

Hundreds of Vehicles passed, passers by being just passersby passed, the unidentified boy also relishing the tasteless gum also passed.

The jolt of an experience did not pass Vasudha. She crossed the road reached her father , who finished his purchase.

Krishnan expecting Vasudha  to throw the dirty scarf into the dustbin said

“ Vasu, once the scarf is washed, it will be clean you can use it again, do not throw it ma, I bought that recently for 120 RS. It is spun material. You give it to me I will carry it!

An expected answer again from her father, But Vasudha  held the scarf quite closely to herself, she saw her pink salwar blending with a touch of Grey and black  colours, 

She clasped her father’s hand tightly gripping the dirt scarf close to her and said

“ IT is O.K. appa I understand”.

By Vidhiya Prashanna