Mrs. Edmonds & I.
" Mrs. Edmonds & I
Wednesday, June 28, 2006 ||
5:06 PM ||
When I first hear about her, Mrs. Edmonds is a fragile woman in her late fifties, whose reminiscences have a faint whiff of lavender spread all over them. A lean woman draped in a white saree, with a slight stoop, that remarkedly sets her apart in a crowd that she merges into. Not long after having witnessed a Japanese soldier butcher her husband to shreds in Singapore, she had managed to flee back to Kerala, where she hoped to start life anew, with none less than eight daughters in tow. My Amma fondly recollects a Christmas in the seventies, when she had hesitantly gulped down a glass of wine for the first time, on being assured by the old lady that she is not gonna end up drunk! Or when she told Amma of wandering from street to street on another Christmas eve, hoping to get a better bargain, for some red meat that she had planned to buy for her kids. Those were hard times, she whispers to my young and freshly wed Amma, as they share a cubicle as telephone operators in the Telecom department, their headsets making them look like astronauts in sarees. She pleads with the Officer to let Amma leave before sunset, as the young girl has a long, long way to go. Shortly after, Amma finds Mrs. Edmonds on the bus stop beside her, as of course, in her own words, she could not imagine herself being alone in a room infested with leering men! Days give way to months and years, and she leaves service and lives alone, her daughters having left for fresh pastures, moulding lives of their own; subsequently Amma finds the old dame lost among a maze of fading memories.
I remember our dining table lending an unwearied ear to many a story of Mrs. Edmonds. There is absolutely no reason today, why I should think of a person whom I have never ever met in my entire life. And yet, here I am, surprisingly doing just that. A post to Mrs. Edmonds, who has been, in plain, unambiguous words, always there!
