Daughtering: A Short Story of Love and Identity | Thursday Tales No. 7
She wore the perfectly fitting ring, held her hand at a distance, and looked at the elegance of six small American diamonds forming a flower against a golden band studded with much finer stones on either sides from the centre.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it, ma! It’s the best gift…Is it gold?”
“No, it is just an imitation.”
“Phew! I am too irresponsible for gold, you know.”
“You are officially an adult from today, remember?”
That early October night, after the lights were put off and everyone was asleep, she stared at her ring bearing hand, which under the gentle gleam of street light creeping through her window, looked like an aesthetic poster picture. She loved how it warmly hugged her finger.
She wondered how her mother could have kept this a secret for so long. It was not that her mother spilled all of her heart's content to her daughter, but having spent eighteen years together, each of them knew what the other was thinking just with a casual look into the other's eyes. But their bond was filled with as much silence as sound that, in so many years of togetherness, neither of them ever felt the urgency to build their boundaries stronger than it naturally was. So, either by her mother's discreteness, or the daze that had caught Iniya for the past few months, the surprise was neatly planned and beautifully executed leaving everyone, especially the birthday girl, purely delighted.
Iniya wore it every day, for its purpose first, but also for the reason that this was the second material gift from her mother — the first being a Machmallian story book, which Iniya still treasured. Iniya missed no chance to capture, with her gaze, the beauty of her ring, which just like her dazzling demeanour caught the admiration of everyone.
The ring, on behalf of her mother's situational absence from significant events of Iniya’s life, witnessed her achievements, and became an instant source of comfort during her misfortunes. The ring's grip around her finger felt like the resounding words of her mother: soothing, nurturing and encouraging. Once, in a moment of terror inside a lonely lift, with a suspicious stranger, it was the ring’s sturdy grip and its protruded beading that steadied her nerves. It filled her with courage to land a punch hard enough to dislocate a jaw if danger befell — just as her mother had taught her when she had to walk alone to school during the dim hours of morning.
Eventually, Iniya attributed various life experiences to the presence and absence of the ring, and she could not imagine parting with it.
Once, during a trek, a stream tried to steal her ring. Iniya ventured away from her team, went on a persistent search, and returned in the evening only after recovering her ring, and bruising her knee in the process. Even while limping back home, all she did was smile with relief of having her ring back.
But a day arrived when Iniya slid the ring off her finger, shut it in a wooden jewellery box, and placed it in the darkest depths of her locker.
The events that led to that unfolded as such…
It was a humid September morning. Iniya had left home in a rush to catch her usual 07:05 a.m Borivali local. The fading monsoon drizzle and the early winter breeze mingled with the heat of sunrise, and the muddy muck staining the calf of her jeans from the walk caused a mild frustration. It was further amplified by the delayed arrival of the train. She could have burst out in exasperation if not for the realisation that it was panipuri Wednesday, a tiny outing with her mother. The smile brought by the thought, pacified her irritation.
The train arrived and she finally reached her destination only to witness a long queue at the rickshaw stand. Another twenty minutes of her morning was spent in the queue, mostly waiting, partly wondering why the universe conspired to meddle with one when they already seemed to be having a bad day.
As a result of the morning displeasures, Iniya reached a quarter of an hour late to Prof. Radhika’s lecture, who, in alignment with her strictness, discouraged unpunctuality with absolute repugnance — even if it was by a minute.
So, Iniya scurried in the corridor, trying to decide whether she should walk into the class and face Prof. Radhika’s anger, or leave, after having laboured to attend the only lecture — of three hours — just for being late. If not for her strictness, Prof. Radhika’s lectures were the most informative and enlightening. But the thought of the blaring humiliation, and the eventual walk-of-shame weighed down any desire to be educated that day.
Tired of the morning toil, Iniya meandered to the ground floor, and found herself a seat on a bench at the edge of the portico. Her body relaxed as the air of tension dissolved in the serenity of the almost heavenly college campus situated in the harmony of the trees, flowers and drizzle.
Just then, she saw a faint figure make its way through the college entrance. She felt sheepish at her involuntary recognition of him — Richard, her classmate. She saw him haste into the shelter of the portico, brush the raindrops off his hair, tidy himself, and look at his watch as though contemplating quantum physics. He quickly turned around to find himself a seat, noticed Iniya, waved at her, and began in her direction.
“Hey! You are late too?” asked Richard as he sat beside her.
“Yup! The trains were late today,” she shrugged. “What about you?”
“The same. And I do not have the guts to walk into her class this late. Never!”
“Same! She is good, but terrifying!” she quivered.
“True. She’s very STRICT!!”
“Yeah…” she assented as she saw him put his bag aside, lean back, and close his eyes briefly.
Iniya could not help but notice how beautiful he was. Among her batchmates, Richard seemed to stand out — smartly groomed, refined in gait, gentle in speech, and unfailingly kind. To see the traits she most valued personified as one person was the perfection of creation, or that was what her eyes seemed to express. She could recall how she felt certain about her feelings towards him through each stage of their acquaintance; she knew the specific moment his smile caught her admiration, and how the spark grew into steady affection. And so, one day, she casually admitted to herself that she liked him very much, but that she would let their bond unfold in its own rhythm.
So, Iniya sat in silence, looking around, watching young men and women walk in and around the campus — some rushing, the others loitering, some group of youngsters laughing, some reading, and some sitting by themselves, lost in deep thoughts. Likewise, the unpleasantness of the day took a back seat, giving way for a sense of sweetness to pervade her, when he asked, “So, what are you planning to do now?”
“I will ask Clare to share the notes and update me with what was covered in the class today,” she explained.
Richard let out a tender smirk and rephrased, “Noted. But I did not mean that… I wanted to ask what you were going to do with the rest of your time?”
Iniya didn’t know what she wanted to do. She wished that the moment could prolong, but she also wished to return to the comfort of her home, and she also longed to know which theory was being used by Mrs. Radhika to deconstruct Passing.
“Ohh okay,” she blushed out a smile, “I really don’t know. What about you?”
“I don’t know either. I’ll see.”
“Hmm…” Iniya nodded, despite wanting to speak so much more about how dithered she felt. But she did not wish to feel silly again, and refrained from uttering another word.
Iniya returned to her silent observation about him and her surroundings.
“I’m going to grab a bite. Would you like to join me?” Richard rose suddenly and asked.
“Sure!” Iniya unhesitantly accepted.
But when they reached the canteen, they could find nothing appealing. Upon a little hesitation and courage, Richard asked, “If you are just as hungry as me, and would not mind, shall we eat somewhere else, outside?”
Without a second thought, granted by the pleasantness of the moment, Iniya said, “I don’t mind a bit. Do you have any place in mind? And, I know a place! Do you like chai?”
“Nope…”
“Do you like chai?
“Yes…!
“Then I know a place. But you’ll have to trust me with the choice.” Iniya added brightly.
“Sure…!” he replied with a warm grin.
And in such a manner, Iniya and Richard were sitting against each other, at a small table, in a cozy, frozen-in-time Irani café, near Mahim station, a stop south from their college.
She was pleasantly surprised by her spontaneity, and was pleased with herself for giving it a chance. But mid-way through their ride there, when the ecstasy had settled, she remembered that she had not informed her mother about that sudden food endeavour.
Iniya’s mother, knowing how children brimmed with curiosity and vigour, had urged Iniya to keep her informed about her out-of-ordinary plans, like outing with friends, trying new food, and risky adventures. She would say, “I know you might fear my reaction, but I would always want you to inform me first. In fact, I would like to hear about it from you first than from anyone else. See, what you do not feel like sharing with mom, may not always be bad, but it surely needs thorough thought. And as parents, you know, we’ll be able to guide you better, and we may also be prepared just in case something goes wrong.” And since then, Iniya had faithfully followed every syllable of the instruction, until that day.
Something had held her back, even when she wanted to drop a message, call her mother, and pour her heart out. So she promised herself that she would tell her mother everything the moment she got back home, and for then, focus on the moment.
Richard and Iniya had a lovely time together, talking about everything under the sky, from how she discovered the café, to how he could draw blindfolded.
Once their appetite was satiated, Richard insisted on accompanying her till she boarded her train before taking his. Iniya declined the offer a few times, considering the flights of stairs he would have to take, but his sweetness swayed her.
So Iniya and Richard stood at platform 2, letting several trains pass, lost in their bubbling conversation. Neither the train, nor the ticking clock, nor the humid afternoon stirred any disenabling emotions in Iniya. Perhaps, this is what love does: it doesn’t take away life’s distress, it just shifts one's focus to such little delights.
Finally, Iniya boarded the train carriage after sharing a deep hug with Richard. Iniya turned around to see him seeing her depart. Iniya waved at him as the train pulled out the station. With still a tingle of longing, like an aftertaste, Iniya sought for a vacant seat, when her eyes met the aghast eyes of a familiar face — her mother’s, which showed every sign of what she might have seen.
Iniya’s heart skipped several beats, before it sank to her abdomen. Her hands turned ice cold. Her mother walked towards her, handing over one of her bags and said,
“Seems like you had a good time.” She tried to sound as natural as possible.
Iniya tried to answer, but her lips were frozen. She summoned every bit of courage her body could produce to overcome the guilt.
“Yeah. I…I…I got late… for Radhika ma’am’s lecture… Later…later…I went… went to the Irani café… with … Rich… Richard. You know the one I went to with dad…in Mahim…there.”
“You did not keep me in the loop?”
Despite wanting to pour out her heart, explain, and promise to never repeat it again, Iniya’s mouth could not produce anything beyond the words, “I…I…thought…I…am Sorry… mom!”
“I'm not disappointed about what happened, but about the way I had to find out.”
“Ma, I'm really sorry… really.”
“It's okay… Iniya… Next time do tell me… Anyways, I am not feeling well. So I took a half-day.” Her mother tried to move past the moment despite feeling overwhelmed.
The train pulled into their stop. They both walked home in silence. That night, Iniya slid off her ring, and put it away. She felt undeserving of her mother’s constant love, and her steadfast trust, which Iniya had so carelessly broken.
The next few weeks passed in silence. Every time she looked at her mother, all she could remember was her aghast eyes. Despite her mother’s attempts to talk, Iniya could only respond restrainedly. As for her mother, who had foreseen a similar reveal from all the things Iniya had shared, but was shaken by the manner of revelation, allowed herself some time and space to process the happening. After her attempts to communicate, she settled to give Iniya the same, and decided to wait for her to open up only when she felt comfortable. So their conversation became limited to general exchanges.
Soon, it was the first week of October. Iniya returned home, statelessly ate her lunch, did her homework, and courtesied back to all the wishes, and gifts she had received. That day, none of that mattered, even the ones presented by Richard, when her mom was not on the blessing end.
Iniya sat there, recollecting her previous birthday, the ring, which was now engulfed in darkness, and her mother's sparkling eyes, watching her with pride.
She slowly drowned into sleep. She woke up only when her mother, who had returned from work, was scampering in the kitchen. She squirmed, half awake, sat up and rubbed her eyes, and opened it to find her mother walking out of the kitchen. She held a gentle smile, and a small store brought cake, with the candles 1 and 9 burning warmly.
“Happy Birthday, Baby!”
Her mother saw Iniya’s glistening eyes. She put the cake away, and drew Iniya into a deep hug. Without a word, everything unspoken for so long seemed to have been explained.
“Shall we cut the cake now?” her mother nudged.
Iniya smiled through her tears. She blew out the candles, cut the cake.
Later, her mother gave her a tiny blue box. Iniya opened it, and found six small diamonds forming a flower against a golden band, shinier than before, studded with much finer stones on either sides from the centre. Just by its cast, Iniya could tell it was real gold.
Confused, Iniya looked at her mother.
“I saw your empty finger. And you know what… I was once a daughter too,” she assured.
Iniya pursed her lips, trying to control her tears, and smiled.
- Mercy Rebonica
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