Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1828701-Gurus-Mom
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Short Story · Other · #1828701
my son and violin
The shoes lay carelessly on a corner in the garage. Tejas started arranging them, picking them two at a time, laying them side by side. Pretty soon he had covered one side of the garage wall. On hearing the slight russle outside, she came running out and breathed ‘how can I walk outside son, if you keep it like that’ she said in imploring, beguiling tones to my son with her eyes on the shoes blocking the doorway

I hurried over. ‘Tejas, please put all the shoes on the side darling. We cant get in paaru. It is blocking the entrance’. He started removing the shoes from the doorway and placed them gently, neatly on the other corner.

We stepped in. ‘Maybe he can play with Saahit for a while. He would very much like that’.

We went in. Saahit and Tejas raced to the basement.

I sat down besides the madisaar mami. She resumed watching her SunTV.

She was sunk in an overplush couch, all wrapped up in tonnes of silk which looked like it was going around and around her, spinning around her body to come out in a swift wave from her stomach, covering her bossom falling behind her shoulder, only to come up swiftly over the other shoulder to finally fall flat on her waist. Her face peeked out, into the world, a beautiful round speck of a face, with a red dot glistening from her forehead, a dazzling eightstone diamond studded nosering, sending out brilliant colours interlocking with rays coming from her two blazing diamond earrings, one on each side, and she shone through, through the layers of her saree and the sinking plush couch.

Her house was neat, well, her son’s house was neat. It was neat, not impeccable in any way, and showing signs of human existence and imperfection. There was nothing strewn about on the carpet and on first glance, it looked neat. The windows had no fingerprints and the photos on the table were arranged neatly.

When the serial was interjected by advertisements, aunty continued

‘Yenguluku yellam indha english channel parka mudiyadu ma. Yellarum katti pidichu mutham koduthundu. Yenguluku pozhuthu poname’ she smiled at her SunTV.

I smiled. She is an elegant, classy lady, I thought. All covered up in a saree, chaste and modest. All covered up in a saree, not hinting any cleavage or bulge hanging out and about. But this lady didn’t have any bulges. She was thin and it becomed her. Her skin was stretched over her face and over hands, all tight, that even wrinkles didn’t seem to exist.

‘Can you call your son and ask him when he would be back ?’ I asked.

She contemplated.‘Parents Teachers meeting illaya. Naaduvala phone panina kovichupan’ she made a sorry face.

I sighed internally. I guess I will have to wait then, interminably.I pretended to watch some more SunTV.

Then I beckoned Tejas. ‘Lets go home darling, its more than 10 minutes now’

‘I am tired, I don’t want to play’ said Saahit.

‘Mommy please, just 9 more minutes, okay ?’- Tejas pleaded, not in a pleading voice, but with a hint of frustration that time was running out, and with hands stretched out from the elbows, palms facing up. He squared. I squared and then gave up. ‘Okay 9 more minutes and we are done’

Saahit relented uneasily. He was tired after his bike ride. He just wanted to sit and be cossetted by his patti.

‘Innam pathu nimisham valayadatu me ma?’Patti implored, looking at my bouncing Tejas with his crew cut chubbying his cheeks. The sleeveless shirt was making him look all round and cuddly.

‘Aunty, ivan athuuke varamattan. Yeppavume theruvulaye iruppan. When we go home, pakathathula yerangiduduvan. Ivanna rathri bedku ponamna, avalavu taja, yeamathi than kootitindu ponam. Aparam yenna, ange poi puzzle valayadi naathan, avan paduthukuvan.Yen kekarel pongo !!’

‘Hmm…’, auntry drew a long breadth. She sighed internally, thanking Saahit had only half of Tejas’s inexhaustible energy.

After a point in time, I dragged him out, stepped in the car and headed home.

We called back, a couple of days later, to wish Saahit on his birthday and to reschedule T’s violin class.

The son was apologetic. “I tried calling you, but you don’t seem to be listed in the directory.’

‘Don’t even apologize. I had a grand time with your mother and Tejas enjoyed Saahit’s company. I feel bad that I made you call the directory service’. I felt horrible for him to incur an expense on my part.

‘Yeppa vena varalam. Yeppo varel sollungo ?’

We ran through a couple of dates and Tejas seemed to be busier than the teacher. Finally we agreed on Sunday at 11.30.

I was excited at that, as Sunday is the only day Tejas was not going to a class of any sort and it sounded to me to be a great day and way to start a class.


My son is going to learn the violin

My son is going to play the violin

My son is going to conquer the world.
© Copyright 2011 Taarash (taarash at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1828701-Gurus-Mom