Krishna Tulasi

By Anand Kunchanur

Everything looks the same. The white clouds piled up on one another like the bales of cotton. The same bright sky. Urgh! How do I break this monotony? It seems there is no escape from anything that is white; even from this milk. Look at it! So white! I could have fought had it been a human or an animal; but how do I fight this lifeless white liquid? Either I or my wife have been boiling milk with great care for the last three years, but the result is the same. We boil it just like others do. Still, it splits. I have been trying to figure out why does the milk envy me? I have failed constantly and consistently. Only God knows at what boiling point it splits. It happens at the blink of an eye. After all that hard labor spent in boiling, we are left with the watery milk that resembles the water mixed with lime. Consequently, I and the milkman indulge in the war of words; he says he gives us the same milk he gives others. I argue how is it that only our milk splits. Thus, we fight every day. Only arguments, no conclusion. It doesn't excite me anymore. So I don't say a word while collecting milk, and after it splits. Now, I am used to drinking the tea with white patches, the disgusting patches of white milk! I just shut my eyes in order to avoid the sight of that ugly light brown tea. Yes, I have practiced drinking tea blindfolded.

I am also averse to white clothes. I feel extremely depressed when a white shirt touches my skin. I remember the day when Sannidhi had asked me how much I liked the white colour. I had proudly answered slightly pinching her tender cheek, "White bright fair colour is my hot favourite. Its radiance and brightness fills my life with enthusiasm just the way you do." Later I started plucking every single white hair on my head. But the thought of a head infested by white hair in old age frightened me. I began to seek the root cause of this bizarre allergy I had developed against the white colour and it led me to Tulasi. 

Tulasi, who was just another woman in my life in the position of second wife.

......................

Whenever I remember my college days, I just escape into the romantic world.  It is so in case of most of us; the hearts as tender and restless as a newly born leaf that flutters in the breeze during spring; the young minds so smitten by the romantic antics of the Cupid. Well, my childhood friend Raju would go bananas over beautiful girls. "The rains of Dharwad and girls of Belagavi are the feast to one's eyes" was his idea of beauty. I would say he was Cupid reincarnate: he would jump into the thoughts about beauty and romance. For a good friend he was, he would take me along. Raju was a ladies tailor. On his return from his wife's town, he would bring sacksful of romantic anecdotes. I used to diligently wait for the sack to open and taste each one of the anecdote to the fullest. He would marinate those precious incidents with his unique style of narration and spice them up with interesting terms. The very thought that most of the blouses and petticoats were neatly stitched with his own hands used to amuse me. I was jealous of his destiny, 'Such a lucky guy! May be, he was Lord Krishna in his previous life and has continued to be so even in this life!' My heart would beat more than usual whenever​ I saw him measuring a lady in order to stitch her blouse. I would feel like snatching his tape and measure all his female customers. Raju would wake-up a Casanova in me as he described the curves with perfect measurements. Those passionate narrations of my dear friend Raju inspired me to do Bachelor of Arts in Belagavi. To be frank, I chose Bachelor's degree to see 'beautiful girls of Belagavi'. I was quite determined and focused at serving my sight with the abundant beauty around me.

I returned to my native after graduation. Everyone in the family was happy to see a graduate amidst them; but their happiness was short-lived as I mentioned my future plans to them. I told them that I wanted to open a high-tech ladies tailor shop. That’s it! It was the final nail in the coffin of their dreams for me. My future plans not only upset my parents but also my close and distant relatives. My father invited my friends home to persuade me to change my mind. I was quite determined and stubborn, so none of their suggestions could shake me. I emerged victorious! Finally, I became the owner of a ladies tailor shop and appointed two tailors to work for me. I did not while away my precious time just sitting at the counter but decided to take the whole responsibility of taking down measurements of my invaluable customers. I introduced the designer blouses, which I had noticed were quite popular in Belagavi, in my small town. The blouses were an instant hit among the ladies. However, a few of them did not appreciate the blouses. Nevertheless, seeing most of the women folk wearing the blouses stitched at my shop would thrill me and fill my soul with content. Sky was the limit to my bliss as I had high jumped all the obstacles and accomplished my dreams. The label of my shop ‘Vijay Tailor’ on the back of their blouses would make me sigh and I used to appreciate myself by gently patting on my bosom. Amidst all the hustle and bustle of my daily life, I could never let Sannidhi fade away from the silver screen of my memory. She would appear and disappear like a moon behind the clouds. It was impossible for me to stay away from her. So, I used to cook up one or the other excuse to go to Belagavi to meet my love, Sannidhi.

Distance and boundaries are erased by the hearts pregnant with true love.

…………………..

My parents in collaboration with the relatives held a round table conference and conspired against me to harness my off-the-track life. They neither appreciated nor approved love marriage. Tulasi, my maternal uncle’s daughter, was chosen to be my would be bride. For them, Tulasi was the reflection of Sita, the wife of Lord Rama. I used to revere my uncle since my childhood. Though their house was smaller than that of ours, it was a well-maintained, neat house. Playing with my uncle’s son Chandru in their wide courtyard was all I needed to be blissful. Nothing on earth could replace that courtyard and Chandru. But I never liked Tulasi. I did not like her for the white patch on her stomach. However, Tulasi was very fond of me and she would find reasons to approach me, but I never paid heed to her advances and always tried my best to keep her at arm’s length. I would call her jersey cow if I was very angry with her. She told me that her parents had named her Tulasi because she was born on the day of Tulasi lagna (the day Goddess Tulasi got married). I did not want to take our relationship beyond such normal talks and that was to remain so throughout my life. I used to lose my cool whenever she tried to prefix my name to hers – Krishna Tulasi. Oh! Such a disgusting combination! I tried to clear her illusion by reiterating the fact that I was not her Krishna and I was Vijay, just Vijay. Saying so would swell my chest with pride. I had decided that my love and respect for my uncle should not be the reason to marry Tulasi. I strongly believed that marrying Tulasi would bring down my precious future. That white patch on her stomach! It was no more restricted to her stomach and had spread to her face, hands, legs and neck. It had even invaded the secret parts of her body. Such a piece of shit!

Why should they stick to Tulasi? My love Sannidhi was not an ordinary girl! She was beautiful, bold, virtuous and educated. So what if she hailed from a lower caste? As soon as I expressed my wish to marry Sannidhi, my house turned into a battlefield. Obviously, I was at the receiving end. I was not ready to give up, not at all. Like a lone soldier, I faced the army of my relatives; I spent long hours with my friends discussing the situation at hand and quarreled with my parents as though they were my worse enemies. Everything seemed so wrong. They would be happy to see me married to a girl of their choice at the cost of my happiness. But they would be sad to see me married to a girl of my choice just because I went against their will. Such hypocrites! Yes, I felt as though I was amidst the apocalypse struggling my way through the road infested with blood-thirsty zombies. They were too adamant to come to terms with me and my feelings.  

It was shocking but true that deep down their conscience, they held caste higher than the Almighty!

…………………………………………

‘Vijay, we will have a baby girl, for sure and we will name her Aradhana,’ said Sannidhi. I loved everything about her and seeing her as mother to be doubled my joy. I hugged her in joy, in pride since I had finally married the person I had fallen in love with. We had just completed one year of our marriage. Everything appeared to be a series of dreams – rebelling against my parents, renouncing my caste and marrying Sannidhi at a registrar office. But Sannidhi’s cheerful face used to make me feel that all the struggle and hardship was worth it. I had opened a ladies tailor shop in neighbouring town. We managed to build a small house as well. Sannidhi had given me a new purpose in life; she was the force behind my enthusiasm in personal as well as professional life. I felt I could face any situation with her emotional support. Thus, I continued my voyage on the strange tides of the ocean of life.

I became quite a concerned and serious man when Sannidhi became pregnant. I took great care of her and labored hard to fulfill all her demands. I had never faced the wrath of fate until the death of Sannidhi. She died after giving birth to our daughter. The enthusiasm to work hard for our future and the purpose of my life had turned to ashes at the wink of an eye. My mind was not ready to accept the fact that Sannidhi was no more. She was suffering from asthma and highly addicted to the medicines she was taking to cure it. Although her doctor had told her to avoid high dosage of those medicines during pregnancy, she did not care to reduce the usage. Consequently, blood pressure and diabetes gripped her and snatched her away from life.

That was the moment when my heart bled and deprived me of love for life.

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There are two types of Tulasi – one is called as black tulasi, Krishna Tulasi or Shyama Tulasi; other one is called as white tulasi or Rama tulasi, out of which the black or brown tulasi is considered to be noble. There was a time I despised the black or Krishna tulasi; I never wanted her, my uncle’s daughter, to be a part of my life. But here she was, in the front yard of my house, taking care of me and my daughter Aradhana. She and Aradhana had become inseparable. I had realized that Aradhana could not live without her. For Aradhana, she was the perfect replacement for her mother. However, I was still not ready to accept her in my life; therefore, I am not mentioning her by her name ‘Tulasi’. I had read somewhere, ‘Daughters are fathers’ darlings; but my daughter never came to me, not even once. She never let me hug or kiss her. I am struggling to find out what is wrong with me. Why I cannot see the wall between me and my daughter. I have failed miserably whenever I have tried to make my daughter smile. However, she sleeps well only when she (Tulasi) cuddles her. I have no idea why my daughter likes to hug and kiss that brownish white skin and rest her head in the lap of the woman with white patches. I am unable to grasp it. May be, my mind is yet to mature.

May be, the little one’s heart is broader than mine!

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Once we had been to her friend’s house and I had overheard the conversation between her and her friend. ‘It is during Karthika month that Lakshmi becomes Tulasi and Vishnu becomes the sacred Shalagrama stone. Both marry each other and the occasion is famously known as Tulasi lagna. I feel the same about your marriage as well. You dress well and look pretty for your husband but he remains as still as the Shalagrama stone! Have you married a human being or a stone? I pity you, dear,’ taunted her friend. She replied, ‘So what if he is a Shalagrama stone. Vishnu is the incarnation of Sri Krishna. Tulasi knows how to bring the stone to life and make it fall in love with me. It is a boon for me. Now, I don’t want to hear a word about him; understood my dear friend?’

I suddenly felt that my whole body was filled with tar.

She had a golden heart and my misconceptions faded away in its purity and glitter.

………………………………… 

Her day began with worshipping Gods and Goddesses. Then she would continue with cooking, washing clothes and getting Aradhana ready for school; her activities filled the house with immense joy. She had admitted Aradhana at the same school where she taught. Their chemistry was simply indescribable. Even my knowledge of geometry had failed me in understanding their unbreakable relationship. The death of Sannidhi had let lose the storms of depression on my present life. Sannidhi could not keep her promise of enjoying every moment of life with me, till death do us part. And Tulasi’s appearance as an ideal motherly figure in my daughter’s life was spellbinding. I could never succeed in making my daughter sleep but the moment Tulasi lifted her and rocked her for some time, she would fall asleep. Thus, she would come home after school hours and take care of Aradhana. I sat in a corner watching everything but did nothing. I did not even appreciate her efforts in looking after Aradhana at the most crucial phase of my life. I just sat in a corner as though my whole body was paralyzed, or may be helplessness had poisoned my psyche. My helplessness became the biggest reason to marry her.

There is no lock in the world that can shut the mouths of gossip mongers. I felt I could have invented one for myself when I came to know that the whole village had been gossiping about me and Tulasi. The gossips had even pricked my maternal uncle, so much so that he sought the intervention of the elderly members of the society to ask me to accept Tulasi as my better half. Actually, he was begging for it. My mind was in splits. I delved deep into the silent lake of introspection to grab an answer for the chaos that had cropped up around me. By the time I came out of it without any answer, Tulasi had entered my courtyard, for a lifetime. I am still in search of the answers being quite aware of the fact that I will never find them.   

Silence and gestures were what we used to exchange with each other. That was how we spent our days and nights. The ever flowing river of time had taken away all the cordiality in our relationship that we enjoyed as kids. Those white patches had dominated her body. Whenever I saw them I felt why such people should even exist! One should not have such complications; it degrades one’s personality. Further, people would keep shooting the arrows of insult and abuse. A person with such health complications should better give up life. If I were in Tulasi’s place, I would have committed suicide!

Tulasi’s discipline and patience had stunned me. Never once did she appear to be longing for the proximity between us.  She too burnt the midnight oil with me when I was very busy stitching clothes during the festive seasons. She looked after me with utmost care when I had fallen ill for almost a month. Nobody invited her for weddings, family functions and other social gatherings. Yes, her skin disease had a lion’s share in cutting off her links with the outside world. However, she never complained about such unfortunate incidents to me. She had never spoken to me in a raised voice; she would address me as ‘maava’ in a low tone. On the other hand, I never treated her like a wife. I could not connect with her emotionally; never. She was actually the man of the house: oiling the sewing machine, changing the batteries of the wall clocks, getting the mixer or fan repaired, everything was taken care of by her. As far as I was concerned, I was content with myself as a good-for-nothing, inanimate piece of flesh. I knew that I did not have even a spec of responsibility that a man should have; at least after fathering a child!

Suddenly, a question stung me – who was unfit to live actually? Tulasi or me?

………………………….

Tulasi had started attracted me towards her for those unmatched traits of hers. One night, her chiseled body awoke my hibernating desires; I hugged as gently and passionately as creeper hugs a tree. The whole night was drenched in our sweat. I did not even bother to know whether Tulasi desired for it. As the night began to depart, I felt guilty; the same old abhorrence coiled around me. As I got up from the bed, I could see the white patches on her body in the dim light of the early morning. I was reminded of a vessel of split milk; I felt I had just caressed a lizard. I was ashamed of myself for what I had done. After that day, whatever little desire was left in me withered instantly. I lost interest even in those women who used to come to my shop. Sex needs body odour and touch; then why is it considered blind? Why did I not like her? Why could I not enjoy the warmth my daughter enjoyed in her arms?

I needed to understand myself. There was a dire need for an excavation of the wasteland deep inside my mind.

…………..

 It took me seven years to become reconciled to reality and shed the dirty skin of  depression and optimism. Time is like a wonder drug that reverses complications of any magnitude and restores life to normalcy. I never paid attention to her and her needs when she was alive; but now that she was no more I had to lock the horns with the village heads to fulfill her final wish. Though she never spoke a word while on death bed, her eyes spoke volumes to me. I thanked God for blessing me with the capacity to grasp what she was trying to say. Yet, I wanted to hear from her, “You want to say something, Tulasi?” A smile dawned upon her pale lips. She did not have the strength to utter a word; still, her cracked lips paved way for those words that poured on my scorched soul like a downpour and quenched my thirst for her voice, “Tulasi should not be separated from Krishna. I should be with you for eternity. Please don’t let them burn my dead body. I … should always…be with…” and she breathed her last.

I felt like a criminal who was accused of ill-treating his wife; his innocent, good-hearted better half. I never looked after her during her illness. She too hid all her complications she was suffering due to her skin infections. Our relationship was too formal for her to share anything with me. I regret it now, I truly do. Sometimes, I had ignored her health issues purposely. Her skin disease had begun to devour her through several infections. She suffered like hell. I had reached a stage of detachment, or so I thought. Our family doctor had shouted at me that my ignorant attitude was the reason for the worsening condition of Tulasi, who was in my house but never lived in my heart. Gradually, I began to feel as though I was sinking in the quicksand of immorality. I sank further when her friend told me once, “A day before, Tulasi had come with me to the temple. Some elders at the temple passed unnecessary comments on her. She felt very bad. And today…”

“What did those morons comment?”

“They said that the rains have ignored our village for the last three years because people with skin diseases like Tulasi are supposed to be burnt and not to be buried after death.”

I had turned my own critic for preferring physical appearance to the beauty of the soul. I was all alone now. There was not a single soul even to mock at my situation. Probably, Tulasi too might have observed my body. No, no. Her mind was not a devil’s workshop like mine. Let bygones be bygones. My only aim was to fulfill her last wish. Tulasi had driven away the darkness of my heart with the light of her unshakable patience. She was like a wick that never bothered about burning to ashes and continued to light my life. Yes, she was a wick, a white wick with a bright flame!

I had fallen in love with Tulasi.

…………………………………

No sooner did the news of Tulasi’s death spread across the length and width of the village then every villager was present in and around my courtyard. They had not come to convey their condolences on her death but to pressurize me to burn instead of burying her dead body. Loss and repentance were already hammering my head but their ruthless talks split it. I tried to imagine how Tulasi must have felt at the temple a few days before her death. I set my anger aside and fell at their feet to allow me to fulfill her last wish. My plea fell on deaf ears. By then, two of the villagers stepped out of the crowd and tried lifting the dead body. I pushed them back and took Tulasi in my arms. Later that day, I begged the village heads to let me bury Tulasi as that was her last wish. I was on my knees, a dwarf in front of an army of giants who had heart of stone. All my requests bit the dust before their superstitious ideology. I shouted at them in anger, and anger was what echoed back at me. Then, I took the path of Tulasi, the path of patience and tried to persuade them that it was just a blind belief that a person with skin disease should not be buried as it would lead to ominous developments in that area. I also told them that they had no right to choke the last wish of my wife and my duties towards her under their baseless beliefs.

My brief speech on blind belief, Tulasi and her last wish worsened the situation further. Hence, all of them order me, “Listen young man, if you wish to bury the dead body, do so in your house. Don’t you dare to bury it in the village graveyard and pollute our land! Is that clear?”

I sat there like a wounded soldier who so far had been fighting a lost battle. However, I was quite determined to fulfill Tulasi’s last wish; therefore, I buried her. A courtyard is the most suitable place for holy Tulasi. That is where I laid my beloved Tulasi to rest. Her last wish was fulfilled. Tulasi had finally come home, forever.

By Anand Kunchanur