Magic

He was making some money now. In this day and age, when people hardly had time to lift their heads from the devices in their hands, he made some money. It surprised him too. Perhaps it was because his was a dying art. Magic. Well not dying, really. Just that he did not know how to make money with his gift. Anything commercialized well would sell, he knew. But he had inherited his father's simplicity along with his talent. He was not zealously ambitious, had no drive to be famous or earn heaps. His father had barely made ends meet. And so did he. At least he had no family to feed. Alone and wandering, he made with what he got. A one-man show, in every sense.

It had been only a few days in this new spot. He usually targeted small parks, where he could put up his acts. He would mostly perform during late afternoons and evenings, when people would be out and, perhaps, be willing to be amused. It was becoming harder to draw people's attention and interest. People had their smart phones - their life partner, entertainment centre, book, guide, friend and much more rolled into one! But his amiable disposition and earnest love for magic reflected in his work. People would occasionally pause and see him. At the end of his little performance, he would walk around with his hat so that people may appreciate him (monetarily). He had noticed that if parents were around with kids, the odds were in his favour. 

It was one such generous day, and he had just completed his performance. Being a weekend, the turnout was better than usual. His hat had become heavier than normal too. He waved, the audience gently clapped and everyone dispersed. He noticed that there was a boy still lingering around. He seemed a bit shy, and it seemed like he wanted to say something. He smiled at the boy, as he was sorting his earnings for the day. The boy smiled back. The boy was shabbily dressed, but his face radiated innocence. "You liked my magic?" 

The boy was thrilled at being addressed. "Of course Magic chacha! I love magic. Umm...I can call you that, right? Magic chacha?" 

"Of course, of course... you can. So you love magic, huh? What is your name?"

"I am called Chotu by everyone". 

"Okay Chotu.... so what is it about magic that you like?"

"Whenever I watch you perform, I am amazed at how you bring things out from thin air; and how things disappear or break - but you bring it back or put it together!"

"Oh, is that so? Well, it's not very easy you know. It takes a lot of work and discipline to be a good magician. You think you can work hard enough, Chotu?"

"Yes, yes.... I absolutely will, I can. Will you teach me magic, Chacha?"

He let out a hearty laugh. "Ah, so you want me to teach you too? Good good."

"Yes Chacha. But I think I would like to make some small changes to the acts, if you don't mind. That is what I want to learn".

This is getting interesting, he thought. A boy is going to tell me how to better my acts!

"Oh, is that so? May I know what changes would you like?"

"Yes Chacha, definitely. I need to understand if those changes can be made."

"Okay, okay - sure. Go ahead, let me hear them."

"I love how you pull a bunny out of the hat. I think bunnies are cute. But, do you think you can teach me to pull biscuits out of a hat?"

"Biscuits?! Why would people want to see you pull biscuits out of a hat?"

"Chacha, actually, it's for Munna - my younger brother. He is too small to understand things. When he gets hungry, he just keeps crying. Now, you tell me Chacha - can we explain to him that there is no money and we can't buy food? Mai and me, we can go without food. But he doesn't understand. So if I could learn to pull biscuits out of a hat, he could eat that. He would stop crying, I think."

"Oh. So.... do you go hungry often, Chotu? Where is your father? Does he not earn?"

"No Chacha. Mai told me that one day Baba disappeared and left us alone, to fend for ourselves. Which brings me to the next act. You normally make a ball disappear, and then you bring it back, right? Is there any way you can bring a person back? I think it would help to bring my Baba back. We don't know where he disappeared to. From that day the smile from Mai's face disappeared as well. I think if Baba came back, the smile would come back too."

He choked and tears welled in his eyes. 

"It would be tough, you know. Bringing back a person..."

Chotu interrupted him "I thought so too. Well, there's one act which I think, needs no change. The one where you pull a coin from behind someone's ears? That is perfect! I think that once I master that, I will be able to pull out some notes too. And then we'd have some money to live with. I don't wish for a lot you know - just some money. So that we can live. I don't want to get greedy - Mai says that one must not be greedy; God punishes greedy people. Do you think so too?" 

"I, well... yes... I agree with your Mai..."

"I will try my best to learn, Chacha. Will you teach me the acts, with these changes?"

Looking into those naive eyes, he could not muster anything except a very weak "Yes".

Chotu beamed with happiness and pride, not being able to believe his good luck. "Chacha, you know what, Mai says that all this magic is nonsense! Can you believe that? Now I am going to learn this from you and surprise her one day. You wait and see! When can we start?"

"Let us start next week, okay?"

"Okay. I have to go now, Chacha. But you will be here, right? Next week?"

"Yes. I will." 

"Okay then!" 

Saying this, Chotu frolicked away.

He packed his things and started walking. Walking away as fast as he can and as far away as his legs would take him.

Mornings

He felt a sudden need to scratch his foot – must be a mosquito. Without opening his eyes, he reached for his toes, scratched it and turned on the bed.

‘Oru maathrayenkilum kelkaathe vayyan nin Murali pozhikkunna gaanalaapam…’****

He heard K J Yesudas singing in his home. Amma had switched on their tape recorder, and it was belting out her favourite devotional songs. It was that time of the day when M S Subbulakshmi, P Leela, K S Chitra and other maestros performed for them. Amma never failed to play the cassettes in the morning – it was one of her ‘things’. The tapes were worn, and at times Yesudas sounded muffled or the songs dragged a bit, but that ritual never changed. It also meant she was done with her morning puja and she had moved onto her kingdom – the kitchen.

He felt someone gently shaking his shoulders. “Wake up Kanna…don’t you have to go to school…” It was Ammamma’s voice. She bent and gently kissed on his cheek and ruffled his hair. His Ammamma smelt of Chandrika soap, Cuticura talcum powder and incense sticks in the morning. He always associated her with purity – his Ammamma in the white mundum veshti, fresh like morning dew. He refused to open his eyes. Ammamma shook him gently again, amidst her ‘Rama, Rama’ chants. He heard a creaking noise, and felt the diffused sunlight on his face. Ammamma had pushed opened the wooden windows. He felt the morning chill, despite being under a blanket. He rolled himself into a ball. She left and he fell back into sleep.

He woke up with a start, to realize he had been whacked on his behind. “Get up, lazy bum!” It was Rukmini. He waved his arm to retaliate, but he heard her anklets as she left the room. “Look Amma, Appu’s still sleeping! Why is it that he gets to sleep till seven and I have to wake up at five in the morning?!” He heard her complain loudly. “He doesn’t have to write his 10^th standard public examination this March. He’s only six years old, Rukku – let him sleep longer. Why don’t you act your age and stop whining...” He heard his Amma from the kitchen. He smiled.

He then heard the sounds of a broom at work; must be Chechi sweeping the courtyard, after which she’d have to get ready for school. He opened his eyes and looked at the walls. Today, the damp patches had created a new set of designs for his pleasure. One looked like an elephant to him. He kept staring to see what else would emerge. “Kanna, wake up now…you will get late” He heard Amma calling from the kitchen. He decided it was time and got out of bed. He walked out and saw Appa sitting at the table, across the nadumuttam. He went to the kitchen, and saw Amma at work on the stove. The idlis, sambar and chutney she made for breakfast was placed on the counter. She was busy preparing Appa’s lunch. The smell of coffee came wafting out. He took a deep breathe in. He liked the smell of coffee.

Amma’s back was wet from the water dripping from her hair. It looked as if she had stepped right out of the bath. He saw that it made damp patches on the back of her blouse; just like the ones he saw on the walls. There was a small strand of mullapoo in her hair. Whenever the jasmine hedges in the courtyard produced some buds, Amma would make a strand for the Gods and a small one for herself. He liked seeing flowers on Amma’s hair. She turned around, and saw him standing at the door. “Ahaaa…Kannan is up? Now be a good boy and brush your teeth. Amma will come by the time you’re done and Amma will help you get ready for school” He nodded as he smiled. He kept walking till he reached the table. Appa was reading the morning newspaper. He was waiting for his breakfast and coffee. He put his paper down, and smiled at him. He smiled back.

Appa left early in the mornings for work, because he had to catch a bus and a train to reach the bank. Some days, he doesn’t see him leave. As he looked at Appa, he realized that Appa’s face looked tired and old. Was it that he hadn’t he noticed it before? The lines on his face, the increasingly greying hair…his friends’ Appa looked young, but his Appa….

Amma served breakfast and Appa was having it quickly. He walked out to the verandah. He heard Amma and Appa talk about money for the maid, some books or guides for Chechi and medicines for Ammamma. He looked at the sky. It looked as if it would rain. He didn’t want it to rain today – at least not during the short break. He wanted to play outside, as it was becoming increasingly rare to do that, thanks to the monsoons. Appa took his black grandfather umbrella, tucked the small leather bag under his arm, took the lunch bag and left.

*****

“Get up Kanna…do you want to go to school today? Feeling better?” It was Ammamma. He rubbed his eyes while opening it; it hurt these days, with all the crying he did. He looked at Ammamma. She still looked miserable; like yesterday. She didn’t wait for a response and left the room. These days, he hardly slept well. He tossed and turned before he could sleep and anything could startle him awake. He stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know what to do with this onslaught of emotions he felt; it always felt the worst on waking up.

He got out of bed, and walked out. There was no music, like before. Chechi was seated on the ground, leaning onto a pillar of the nadumuttam and staring intently at the ground, like she was lost in thoughts. He saw a silent tear run down her cheek. He looked around for Amma. She was seated on the table. He could see that her eyes were red and puffy from constant crying. Tears were silently streaming down her face. She had given up on wiping that steady stream. He looked helplessly at Ammamma – it appeared she was busy trying to attain peace of mind through prayers. She had her eyes shut tightly, forming furrows on her aged and crinkled forehead. She was chanting prayers under her breath. 

He looked at the three of them, one by one. He then looked up at Appa’s photo. Amma had replaced yesterday’s garland, with a fresh string of jasmine today. He looked at Appa smiling in the photo. And he felt something tug at his heart – how could Appa smile when all of them were crying for him?

He went back to bed and curled himself. He shut his eyes. He should get back to sleep. Things would perhaps get back to normal, when he would wake up next time.

****

For non-Malayalis, here’s the meaning/explanation for some of the words I’ve used –

****Famous Devotional Song of Lord Guruvayurappan, sung by K J Yesudas

Amma – Mother

Ammamma – Grandmother

Appa – Father

Mundum veshti – the two-piece clothing, draped/worn like a saree (or a half-saree) by Malayali women

Chechi – Elder sister

Nadumuttam – the inner/central courtyard or quadrangle (a traditional architectural element of olden days)

Mullapoo – Jasmine flowers

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I know, it's been really long - like really long, since I've updated this blog. I wonder if anyone who used to read me before even remember me now! If you do, say 'hello'! Maybe more on my absence on blogs in a later post. How are you all doing? I've been infrequently catching upon the blogs in my Reading list. Good to know you'll are still writing.

Stare

She was staring. But it was a vacant stare; the eyes – they rested on some random object while her

mind was busy processing something. She had a very solemn look on her face, which waxed and

waned in intensity. One minute she looked like she was going to relax – well almost; for the very

next second her cheeks would tighten, her forehead creased with worry lines, her eyebrows crinkled

and her lips tautly drawn. What was bothering her?

Well at least he had something to keep him occupied to get through the boring session.

Come to think of it, her face isn’t extra-ordinary, but there’s something nice about it. In fact, lots of

things. Her eyes, beautifully lined with kohl; her nose, straight and long; her lips – thin and a healthy

pink; her hair – long and flowing, like a black cascade; the tiny bindi centered between her well-

shaped brows…

There she was, doodling away in her book; not paying attention to the session of course. She looked

up. And caught him looking at her. He continued to stare. She tried to avoid his gaze. She would

look here and there, only to check on him the very next instance – his eyes would still be on her. She

fiddled with the pen, kept pushing her hair behind her ears, checked the time every few seconds,

pretended to write something – to no avail. She was disconcerted by him staring at her. He started

deriving some amusement from this game they were engaged in. A few minutes later, he suddenly

noticed a quiet resolve on her face. And then she stared back. So that was her game plan; to beat

him at his own game. She seemed determined to shame him into defeat. And she continued to

stare; almost taunting him to do the same. A dare, or so it seemed; but little did she know him.

If she thought that he would retreat by the challenge, she was sadly mistaken. One must never

question the depths of a man’s shamelessness. Far from being cowered by her might gaze, he in

turn started enjoying the attention she paid him; he looked like a puppy who got a bone. He returned

the favour too – he stared at her with increased intensity (if such a thing was possible).

She didn’t give up. Strands of her hair flew over her face, and yet she didn’t make a move to remove

them. He took in that sight with admiration – she was growing more appealing by the minute; her

penetrating gaze holding his – moments where nothing mattered. Only she existed in his vision; and

he in hers.

How long did it last? A few seconds? Minutes? It seemed like eternity though.

She gently lowered her eyes. And she broke out into a smile. She lost the game; or maybe won his

heart?

There was the enigmatic smile – where was she hiding it all along? It felt like a thousand suns had

risen on her face. The girl with the worry lines had vanished! It seemed like someone else had taken

her place. He was floored by this new persona. There was more to her than what he saw. And he

liked it.

She appeared more relaxed from then on. She would take quick glances at him, sharing warm

smiles every time. They, who were engaged in an open stare contest until a few minutes back,

were now indulging in taking sneak peeks of each other. The bell rang. The lecturer wrapped up

the session and walked off. The crowd stood up, eager to disperse. She quickly packed her bag.

She walked till the door, and turned back, smiled at him one last time before walking off. He was still

seated – a wide grin pasted on his face.

Me? I walked off after an enriching session on how the human mind works.