Of Leaders and Losers 7. The One who Trusts

          All of us would have had someone who trusted us when a majority around us didn’t. This story deals with such people, who appear somewhere on the horizon but make a profound impact on us, all the same. It is a tribute to all individuals who see the dawn in us while the day is still dark. I’m happy to state that I’ve known many great individuals, who have a special place in my heart. As usual, fact is mixed with fiction to make this story, which actually happened in the life of one of them.

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‘Aunty, can I take Parimala for a wade?’ eagerly asked Swati, a friend of the 10 year old Parimala. ‘Are your parents accompanying?’ asked Durga. ‘No, Aunty, Arunima, Parimala and I will go. Amma told Arunakka to monitor us’, came the reply. ‘Aruni is hardly three years older than you, and small kids should not be going to the sea, alone. I’ll tell your mother that she shouldn’t be letting you go there without any elders. Be a good girl and go home’.

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          Parimala was fifteen now. ‘I got a chance to visit the harbour. I intend to take Parimala along with my kids. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the country- boat ride into the sea’, mentioned Mohan, their neighbour. ‘Sorry, brother, forgive me for not sending her along. Not that I’m mistrusting you, but if she’s a little adventurous with the water, there can be undesirable consequences. I can’t send her along, sorry’.

* * *

‘Yellow, no, no ….Blue, don’t want, black, too dark…Pink, lovely…Wait, wait, red, or purple……….’, three- year- old Vel kept changing his mind on the colour of balloon that he wanted. 18- year- old Parimala was in her maternal uncle’s place to spend her summer vacation. ‘…ah yes, orange…Get me an orange balloon’, continued her cousin, Vel. ‘Let’s go to the neighbourhood provision store and look for the balloon. You choose whatever you want’, said Parimala, and, turning to her aunt, requested, ‘Atta, I’ll take Vel to the provision store down the street. Let him choose his own colour for the balloon’. ‘No, dear, you are still a young girl. What if there is traffic?’ retorted the aunt. ‘Atta, there’s hardly any traffic at this time of the day. We’ll protect ourselves from the heat with umbrellas. Even if there’s any traffic, I know how to ensure the safety of the child, who should not be on the traffic side of the road. I was protected in that way in my childhood and I intend to do just that for Vel. And, about my age, my grandma was the mother of two by eighteen. I’m no kid, so I can take care of the kid. Please let me take him, won’t you?’ pleaded Parimala. ‘Akka, I am ready, and here is my baby umbrella. Shall we leave?’ asked an enthusiastic Vel. ‘No one shall take Vel out except me and your aunt. This is not the time either. Vel, take off your shoes, put them on the rack, wash your feet and go play with Akka within the house’, thundered uncle. ‘Akka promised to buy me a balloon. Let me go’, fussed the child. Uncle shouted, ‘Get inside!’ The scared boy cried aloud for a good twenty minutes. This forced uncle to drag his feet to the store and return with an orange balloon. The boy was not happy at all. ‘If you had taken me to the shop, I’d have chosen a red balloon—the apple balloon!’ retorted Vel, and continued to weep, even after taking the balloon. Aunt was trying her best to calm the kid down. ‘Why don’t you just mind your business? You have given him unwanted freedom and he’s getting stubborn and indisciplined…See the consequences of your offer..’ mumbled uncle as he went past Parimala.

Pari now wondered if she were so untrustworthy that she wasn’t considered a worthwhile company in her childhood, and so irresponsible a guardian to take a child out in the same neighbourhood. Perhaps so.

* * *

Parimala was an employee right now. On some official visit to Mumbai, she bumped into Tashi, her college friend. Over lunch at a nearby cafeteria, Tashi told Pari that her husband, Manjeet, worked for a public sector undertaking and that they were blessed with a daughter, Ganga. What’s more, Tashi insisted that Pari vacate the guest house where she was staying, and move in with them in Matunga, so that they could plan something for the weekend. It was the rainy season in full fury. There were but a few short spells of rainlessness, with or without sunlight. Tashi decided that they go over to the Chowpatty beach to enjoy the beauty of the season. On that day, it was particularly rain- free at that time, so Tashi, Ganga and Pari sat on the shore for a while before Ganga pestered her mother for a wade.

Pari volunteered, ‘You guys have a wade first! I’ll watch over our sandals.’ She promptly recollected that there was never any occasion when anybody considered her worthy of any responsibility, in her personal life, that is. ‘Thank God that people entrust me with responsible and challenging tasks’, she pondered. She noticed the way Tashi behaved with her child- convincing her that one should not go too far into the sea, and that it was enough if their feet got wet. Both the mother and daughter thoroughly enjoyed the wade. There was no distrust, and no disobedience. ‘Was I so disobedient that my mother would never let me be independent’, she wondered. No, she wasn’t. Except that her protective mother and her siblings went to the extreme of not finding her worthy of doing anything on her own, and others, worthy of trust.

‘Hey, Tashi, look to your left. Is it a sea snake?’ shouted Pari, noticing something green in a snake- like shape. A concerned Tashi looked around, ensuring that the kid was as far from that suspicious object as possible. She soon understood that it was, indeed, a sea snake, but a dead one. Quickly regaining her composure, she explained to Ganga, ‘This is a sea snake. It lives in the sea. These snakes get washed ashore when they are dead.’ ‘How did it die, Amma?’ asked the inquisitive kid. ‘It may have died on its own, or may have been killed. We never know that unless we work on such reptiles. Now let’s get back to the water…’

Pari was lost in thought. Would her mother have reacted to it the same way as Tashi did? No. She’d have shielded her child’s eyes from that terrible sight (snake, and a dead one at that) and carried her away from the place, jeopardising her outing at the beach.

‘Pari, we are done with it. It’s your turn’. These words of Tashi brought her back to the sands of Chowpatty. ‘I loved the way you enjoyed the wade. Here are three pairs of sandals. Please take the handbags. Will you mind if I played around with the water for half- an- hour?’ ‘No, not at all. We still have a long way to go for lunch. Take as much time as you want’.

‘Thank you’, said Pari, moving towards the waves. ‘Wait, hold on, won’t you?’ shouted Tashi, ‘Take Ganga along!’ Pari was taken aback. For the first time, somebody had demonstrated some trust in her abilities. It seemed too good to be true. Did she hear it right? ‘Do you think I’ll be able to manage a three- year old?’ she asked. ‘Why not? I trust your sincerity as well as I trust Ganga’s discipline’, replied Tashi. Pari could not believe her ears. Her eyes matched that honey by becoming moist. Her teeth popped out as a sign of happiness. She quickly reached out to the child, held her hand, and led her to the waves, passing by the dead green snake, fearless and unscathed.

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