It was a hectic day for the Ramans at the city. Crowded bazars, smell of sweat and the blinding sun. They were almost thankful to hit the road towards Pandalur, where Mrs. Raman’s father lived. The driver had not turned up that morning and so Mr.Raman had found himself at the wheel of the battered and noisy Ambassador. It was a two hour drive back home and Mr. Raman spent the first few minutes whistling a melody from an old Hindi song for his pretty wife. Then he gave up exhausted. After a while, the Ambassador indicated an overheated engine. “We have to stop for a while” declared Mr. Raman.
“Can we go and have a look in that mansion? It seems to be old.” said Mrs. Raman. She was referring to a huge building a few hundred yards to their left.
It was twilight and the mansion’s beige walls played with the sunlight to display a brilliant mixture of colors. Mr. Raman obliged with a smile. He had promised his wife to take her wherever she wanted for a full week and today was the last day. He had lost a bet when Brazil failed to reach the Semi finals of the world cup. The Ambassador ambled past the open gate when they heard an old man ordering them to stop from behind. Mrs.Raman lowered her window and said “ Namaste Babuji. I lived in these parts as a kid for a few years. Twenty five years back I think. We now live abroad. This is my husband and I wanted to show him around a bit". The old man peered into the back seat where a little girl was fast asleep. ” Ok Memsaab",he said," But don’t take too long. No one has lived here in 35 years.”
Sheila was seven years old. As they entered the monstrous hall, Sheila’s luminous eyes lit. She crossed the doorstep holding her father’s hands but thereafter the brat was on her own. She ran to her right and stopped to inspect the stationary inmates of the mansion.
“Father! Look here!",exclaimed Sheila These huge lamps! Aren’t they beautiful? Please can I take these home?”
Mr. Raman said “Honey, now be careful with them. They are heavy and sharp.”
“But they are really beautiful.",said Mrs.Raman." Look at the design. Isn’t it exquisite? I would love to put them near our patio.” Her eyes were twinkling with excitement.
The Ramans had recently purchased a house in San Diego. The word “patio” took Raman back to his house and then straight to the bank from where he had taken a massive loan. Raman sighed at the thought but hid his feeling well.
The hall was imposing by any standards. There were high ornate glass windows with wooden frames. All the woodwork was made from teak was intricate. “Must have cost a lot to whoever got it done “thought Mr. Raman.
There was a huge wooden swing in the center of the hall. Sheila jumped onto it and urged her father to push as hard as possible.
The sound from the rusted swing reverberated the whole place as Mr. Raman gave it a gentle nudge. The sound sent shivers up her spine and so Mrs. Raman said,”Enough. Look at this show case!“, pointing to a large collection behind the swing.
Before her father could stop her, Sheila was at the show case lifting a bronze statue of Lord Ganesha, her favorite god. She felt it was strange for some reason. She caught it by the statue’s head. Then, a part of the statue detached itself and fell.
Mrs. Raman shrieked in pain as the statue pierced the toe of her right foot. Blood started oozing out and Raman was quick to tie a hand kerchief over the wound.
Sheila's eyes were swollen with tears. Quietly sobbing she said “I will not repeat it. I am sorry…” “It was just an accident. Now we have to get back home. It is getting dark.” said Mr. Raman, replacing the Ganesha on the showcase They walked out slowly with Mrs. Raman limping and taking her husband’s support. As soon as they climbed into the car, Mrs. Raman fell asleep.
A sharp pain awoke Mrs. Raman. They were still driving. She reached for the switch above her head and turned the light on. She lifted her leg slowly and put her right foot on the leather upholstery with considerable effort. The blood had stopped flowing. She removed the kerchief knot slowly and inspected her wound.
Mr. Raman chuckled and said “Dear Madam, it will be gone in a couple of days. Now you don’t expect me to carry you around till then…” looking into the eyes he had fallen for. But Mrs.Raman was silent. She let her fingers run around her wound. It was very close to a mark from another wound. She could not remember how or when it happened. " Ram, I have this funny feeling in my head. This whole mansion visit seems to be the biggest deja vu in my life", said Mrs.Raman shaking her head in disbelief. She turned back. Hema was still sleeping peacefully in the back seat. Mr.Raman wanted to whistle an old hindi song but switched on the radio instead as the car sped into the night....
“Can we go and have a look in that mansion? It seems to be old.” said Mrs. Raman. She was referring to a huge building a few hundred yards to their left.
It was twilight and the mansion’s beige walls played with the sunlight to display a brilliant mixture of colors. Mr. Raman obliged with a smile. He had promised his wife to take her wherever she wanted for a full week and today was the last day. He had lost a bet when Brazil failed to reach the Semi finals of the world cup. The Ambassador ambled past the open gate when they heard an old man ordering them to stop from behind. Mrs.Raman lowered her window and said “ Namaste Babuji. I lived in these parts as a kid for a few years. Twenty five years back I think. We now live abroad. This is my husband and I wanted to show him around a bit". The old man peered into the back seat where a little girl was fast asleep. ” Ok Memsaab",he said," But don’t take too long. No one has lived here in 35 years.”
Sheila was seven years old. As they entered the monstrous hall, Sheila’s luminous eyes lit. She crossed the doorstep holding her father’s hands but thereafter the brat was on her own. She ran to her right and stopped to inspect the stationary inmates of the mansion.
“Father! Look here!",exclaimed Sheila These huge lamps! Aren’t they beautiful? Please can I take these home?”
Mr. Raman said “Honey, now be careful with them. They are heavy and sharp.”
“But they are really beautiful.",said Mrs.Raman." Look at the design. Isn’t it exquisite? I would love to put them near our patio.” Her eyes were twinkling with excitement.
The Ramans had recently purchased a house in San Diego. The word “patio” took Raman back to his house and then straight to the bank from where he had taken a massive loan. Raman sighed at the thought but hid his feeling well.
The hall was imposing by any standards. There were high ornate glass windows with wooden frames. All the woodwork was made from teak was intricate. “Must have cost a lot to whoever got it done “thought Mr. Raman.
There was a huge wooden swing in the center of the hall. Sheila jumped onto it and urged her father to push as hard as possible.
The sound from the rusted swing reverberated the whole place as Mr. Raman gave it a gentle nudge. The sound sent shivers up her spine and so Mrs. Raman said,”Enough. Look at this show case!“, pointing to a large collection behind the swing.
Before her father could stop her, Sheila was at the show case lifting a bronze statue of Lord Ganesha, her favorite god. She felt it was strange for some reason. She caught it by the statue’s head. Then, a part of the statue detached itself and fell.
Mrs. Raman shrieked in pain as the statue pierced the toe of her right foot. Blood started oozing out and Raman was quick to tie a hand kerchief over the wound.
Sheila's eyes were swollen with tears. Quietly sobbing she said “I will not repeat it. I am sorry…” “It was just an accident. Now we have to get back home. It is getting dark.” said Mr. Raman, replacing the Ganesha on the showcase They walked out slowly with Mrs. Raman limping and taking her husband’s support. As soon as they climbed into the car, Mrs. Raman fell asleep.
A sharp pain awoke Mrs. Raman. They were still driving. She reached for the switch above her head and turned the light on. She lifted her leg slowly and put her right foot on the leather upholstery with considerable effort. The blood had stopped flowing. She removed the kerchief knot slowly and inspected her wound.
Mr. Raman chuckled and said “Dear Madam, it will be gone in a couple of days. Now you don’t expect me to carry you around till then…” looking into the eyes he had fallen for. But Mrs.Raman was silent. She let her fingers run around her wound. It was very close to a mark from another wound. She could not remember how or when it happened. " Ram, I have this funny feeling in my head. This whole mansion visit seems to be the biggest deja vu in my life", said Mrs.Raman shaking her head in disbelief. She turned back. Hema was still sleeping peacefully in the back seat. Mr.Raman wanted to whistle an old hindi song but switched on the radio instead as the car sped into the night....
