COLORS OF LIFE

Life reveals different colors.We learn to associate colors to feelings,so to each one of us, color is personal.

Here is the color RED-the manjadi kuru.

NIRBHAYA
      As a precious little sister,I was always following my siblings around.
 They seemed to know just about everything.Bold and fearless,I soon discovered the joys of running around barefoot,drinking raindrops that fell on my tongue,taking apart every thing I found unattended.The lovely rose had thorns,the lotus that bloomed pristine could only be reached if one wades into the treacherous muddy pond,the bird song could be enjoyed only if one wakes up even before the sun does,the perfume of the Queen of the night  meant my parents slept with the bedroom doors locked on the inside..these thoughts registered in my subconscious but I did not question the reason behind..it was all just accepted as a done thing.of course Grandmas(amamma) room was always open and I could run in anytime for a quick hug and cuddle.

           The first time I admonished  myself is still clear in my memory.
Hearing the moos of the cows that came to slurp the kanji(water drained after rice is cooked),I had jumped up ,spilling all the manjadi kuru (red seeds of the plant) .Eager to pet Laxmi,our family cow and play with her calf,little Sita,I ran off,leaving the bead like red kuru scattered all over Ammamas floor.I followed the little one into the fields,licking my tongue in anticipation of the fresh milk that Grandma would hand me everyday.

         It was only when she did not appear that I wondered why she was late .
I ran back inside to find her lying face down,her white mundu (article of clothing ) all skewed.That was my first taste of fear.Knowing I was responsible and somehow feeling a sense of loss and sorrow that I was the one who could have prevented this ,the gut wrenching feeling even when nothing was said to me..all hit me in a fell swoop.
 

     I never saw Ammama again.
She will always be the loving,kind,fearless ,sweet,vision ,I still go to her  in my mind-when I am overcome with his feeling of helplessness and deep sorrow.But that fateful day was the end of my childhood and innocence.Every action has consequences and each action does touch every other person in our sphere of influence was the lesson learned at the young age of four.

       My parents moved out of the grammam(small precinct) and the down town house we had was small,cramped and seemed smothering.
I missed the vast open fields,open spaces, where flowers of every color and hue bloomed with fragrances that evoked joy and tears.Having to share a room with my four older siblings made me revolt.My brother who is a  few year older first broke the truth to me.Grandmama was no more and the house and lands had to be sold off to give each member his/her share of the tharravatu proceeds.Still too young to comprehend the loss,I become quiet and introspective.
 

       Every move was an act of fear. 
What will happen if I do this,will someone be hurt.I learned fear and feared fear.The door swung shut when I walked out and would not open.Darkness scared me,strange city sounds did too.Everything and everyone here were different.Withdrawing into my shell,I vowed that one day I would reclaim the beautiful fields,the house and the orchards.

      Not knowing how,I approached Sumathi,our trusted maid.
 She was the only person besides the family who moved with us from Ammamas farmhouse.Quelling my fears,she told me to focus on my lessons,go to college ,get smart and earn enough money to buy back the land and property we had lost.

    I took that to heart and like a grain of sand that hurt the little oyster.
Filling all my sorrow and fear with learning,studying ,reading,absorbing..like a sponge I took it all in and two decades  and two years later with a degree in medicine went back to my village.
        I set up my own clinic.
Now no one would have to lose a life due to the ignorance of a little child.
 I did this as much for Ammama as for me.
I knew she had already forgiven me even before she bade us all goodbye,that fateful day.

Only !! I realized I am unable to capture those carefree days of a bygone era.

I had lost not only my Ammamma but also my childhood innocence.

 - NIRBHAYA - That fateful day when the little red manjadi kuru took away the colors

 I am still searching for the rainbow to heal my heart and soul.