Lesson 8 – Context

A spring evening in kerala

Seated in the rickshaw going towards the station, I gazed at the sun as it slowly reddened, preparing for it’s journey downwards. The mynahs and warblers were flitting about. The golden shower tree was in full bloom, displaying all its glory. The sun came down, painting the skies an orange mixed with red and pink. Temples were decorated with fluorescent lights and concerts were taking place at some venues.

As we neared a temple, we crossed several women dressed in the traditional off white set saree, carrying bundles of firewood. In the temple premises were several other women similarly attired, stacking up the firewood. Some of them were boiling milk and rice to frothing consistency, cooking it up nicely into a porridge. Their faces looked pious, full of faith in the ceremony they performed. There were several temples along the way and we came across the women again in groups, looking serene in their white sarees.

Standing out among them I saw a woman who was riding a scooty, the firewood stacked on the dashboard. As she unloaded the firewood, a man came in a fury, stopping our rickshaw with outstretched arms. He ran up to the woman, shouting “dee Radhamani,” and scattered all the sticks. He pulled her by the hair and began to hit her on the face. Radhamani seemed unfazed and stood up straight, hands on her hips. This was the first time I saw such grit and determination on the face of a woman. Her square face, protruding cheekbones, ebony black hair tied back in a bun, dusky complexion, everything in her seemed to scream that she needed the help of none. The rickshaw driver got down and tried to pacify the man. But the woman just gave him a namaste, said, “Thanks, but this is not new to me. I’ll take care of it.”

As we drove away in the rickshaw, I had great admiration and sympathy for the woman and realized how blessed I was to have an understanding spouse.