Zorami

1

Home Alone

"An aged woman is a paltry thing,

A tattered coat upon a stick, unless

Soul claps its hand and sings...."

she (mis)quotes Yeats.

Having just got out of bed, she stands beside it in a brown nightdress of thick, knitted material. She folds her arms across her chest and stands still for a while, lost in thought. She shivers a little with the morning chill, picks up a woollen cardigan hanging on the bed head and puts it on in slow motion. Then she starts making the bed, stopping now and then in the middle of the work. Finishing it at last, she again stands with arms folded across her chest.

My soul is so far from clapping and singing, I’m only aged – a paltry thing, she whispers. A tattered coat upon a stick.

She walks to the mirror on the dressing table, looks at her reflection and says without mirth, Happy birthday to you! Yes, today is her birthday. It comes at the dead end of the year, and she feels at the fag-end of her life now. Zorampari turns fifty today.

She studies her face in the mirror. It is yellowish brown and oval. Humpty Dumpty! she mouths. It shows deep lines round the eyes and on the sides of the mouth. The nose is well shaped though, and about the right size, she decides. The skin sags, the eyes look tired and dull. About half of her shoulder length, straight-as-straight hair is white. The words faded, jaded, come to her mind.

I have grown old without being mature, faded before blooming, she thinks. A tattered coat. She isn’t pleased with her looks. Never has been, she recalls.

A little girl is playing outside the house. An older girl passing by stops and talks to her. Then she pinches her cheek and says, So pretty! The little girl runs in and looks in the mirror to see for herself. She sees an ugly red face and wonders how that girl could call her pretty.

Zorami grew up quite obsessed with looks, as looks were often talked about by people around her. A pretty face, it seemed, was of high value. She particularly envied the beauty of one girl in school, often daydreamed of looking just like her and even prayed for that favour. But her prayers were not answered. She turned out to be a smallish, darkish adult and has not been able to accept it. To make it harder, all through her younger years, someone or the other would comment that it was a pity she had taken her father’s looks and not her mother’s.

So what! Looks aren’t everything! she says aloud. Having been all alone in the house for nearly a week, she has picked up the habit of talking aloud to herself.

I must stop all these dreary thoughts or I’ll go mad!

Her mind now strays to the subject of madness. I wonder how it feels to be mad, to forget reality altogether. Some mad people seem quite happy, like that Dala who comes expecting hand-outs. He’s always smiling, always cracking jokes. And that woman Thlungi! She’s on a happy high all the time, always singing and dancing. But Suaki is in tortures, screaming her head off. Is it the level of madness that makes the difference? Or is it due to the nature and temperament of the persons? I wish I had studied psychology. Or better still, if I had the chance, I should have become a psychiatrist. I could have been of some use to society then. But the course was not available when we were young, at least not to people in my situation. Today’s students are luckier, they have so many options. I was born at a wrong time under a wrong star...

Stop it! she tells herself. Think of better things. Learn to be positive.

She walks to the window, lifts the curtain and throws the shutters open. Cold morning air rushes in with a light breeze. The fresh air cools her face and cools her head too. She looks out and watches the little hills with pointed tops touched by morning sunrays. This is a scene that never fails to delight her. The sight suddenly causes her to recall an old favourite song, and she bursts out singing—

"When the sun shines on the mountains

And the night is on the run

It’s a new day, it’s a new way

And I fly up to the sun."

She cannot see the sun as the east side is blocked by buildings. But the view through the window keeps growing brighter. New day, new way, new year on its way. Anything good coming my way? she asks. Who knows? Even this late in life, something good may be hiding round the corner to surprise me! After watching the scenery for a while, she goes to the kitchen and makes herself a mug of thingpui sen. She sits by the window, looking out and sipping the light black tea.

She feels a chill all of a sudden. Outside, the morning sun is still shining. But a dark cloud has risen on her inner horizon. She shivers as she recalls her dream – the same dream that has haunted her for many years. Like in an old photograph she sees a girl lying hunched up under a bush. She is down on her side with her back towards her, so curled up that her knees almost touch her forehead. She looks dead. But somehow in the dream, Zorami knows she isn’t quite dead.

Then her eyes travel farther, searching beyond the broken, pathetic figure. She now sees a rocky hill. Bare, grey-brown, a harsh mid-day sun beating down on it. Her gaze then moves to a shadowy dip on the hill. There she sees water running down in a swift, strong current, gushing down the rocky surface, foaming, splashing and sparkling.

Her recollection is disturbed by the phone ringing.

Double rings. Local call tone. Knowing it won’t be her husband, she is in no mood to answer it. But she does pick it up after it has trilled four times. Happy Birthday, dearie! Aren’t we going to celebrate? It’s Kimi’s cheery voice. She always sounds as if she’s just got some exciting news. How can anyone be so bubbly all the time? Zorami wonders. She also cheers up at once on hearing the voice. Kimi’s voice always has this magical effect on her mood. Thank you, she answers, and putting on a touch of humour, adds Same to you.

Kimi laughs merrily. Hearing that laugh, a stranger would have taken her to be a carefree teenager instead of an aging widow with heavy burdens. Okay, let’s make it our birthday! How shall we celebrate? Shall I come over in the afternoon? I’ll bring some cake and things, and we can have a good chat over tea. Unless you’re planning to throw a party, that is.

No party, no way. Do come and let’s make it a party for two. But no need to bring anything. I’ll bake a cake, a simple one.

Alright. When’s Sanga coming back?

No idea! I don’t even know if he’s coming back at all!

What d’you mean?

The concern in her friend’s voice nearly breaks through her feigned indifference. But with an effort she blinks back the tears that have gathered to her eyes, takes control of her voice to make it sound flippant and says, He hasn’t told me. He hasn’t even called today.

Hasn’t called today? Well, it’s still early morning, maybe he’ll call later.

Maybe he’s forgotten. He’s gone with pretty Julie, so he can’t be expected to remember me!

Come on, dearie, don’t always think the worst. He’s on an official tour. You’re overdoing the jealous wife act these days and the role doesn’t suit you at all.

Zorami emits a short, bitter laugh and says, Unfortunately, I have some idea of what men are like. It’s hard to think well of them.

Men are quite different from one another. They’re individuals too, aren’t they? We women don’t like to be put all in one box; it’s not fair to do that to men either. Sanga’s a good guy, he’s been faithful all these years. Why have you become so suspicious of him at this age? Trust him a bit more, and stop being so hard on him.

I have to admit you’re a good advocate, she says with another short laugh. I’m wondering whether you’re my friend or his. Anyway, do come over soon. I’m going to start on the cake right after the morning meal.

Okay, see you.

As soon as she puts down the phone, her thoughts turn to her husband again. He is away on a trip to Delhi, accompanied by Julie, a pretty cashier in the bank where he works. They left the day after Christmas on a supposedly urgent work. Zorami isn’t convinced about it, as most offices in Mizoram stay closed or take work very lightly during the Christmas season.

She had accused him of going on a holiday with Julie. That had angered him. They had parted in very bad spirit. No wonder he has not called to wish her on her birthday! He did call a few times after reaching Delhi, but the conversations were short and matter of fact. The quarrel was still hanging between them. He called last night too, saying most of the work was done, but did not talk about coming home, and she is too proud to ask him about it. If he prefers to spend the New Year with his colleague rather than with his wife, so be it!

But her heart aches and she feels abandoned.

Zorami and Sanga have been drifting apart during the last seven or eight months. She dislikes Julie’s familiar manners with her husband. He vows she is a sweet, innocent girl who treats him as a father figure. The poor girl grew up without a father, and she needs someone she can treat as her older male relative. If only you knew her better you’d feel sorry for her! he had said. They have quarrelled several times over this subject.

Have I been too harsh in my judgement of their relationship? she wonders. "Is Kimi right in thinking I shouldn’t suspect him? Despite my problems, Sanga’s been a good husband.

She paused.

But then, so many older men… have gone… astray.

2

How Sweet they Roamed

Kimi, have a chocolate, the shopkeeper offers. The two teenage girls have stopped on their way to school to buy a pencil.

Thank you. Please give one to my friend also, Kimi says.

The man stares at Zorami, laughs derisively and says, She’s so ugly! She looks like a vai!

Your daughters are far uglier! And they’re hopeless at studies. Do you know that Zorami’s the best student in our class? Kimi lashes out. Here, take back your sweets. I don’t want them! She stomps out, followed by a silent Zorami.

Zorami was surprised at Kimi’s rage, as she didn’t lose her temper at worse remarks against herself. Once, she overheard one of the teachers referring to Kimi as that liquor vendor’s daughter. When she told Kimi, she calmly replied, So what? That’s what I am. My mother has to do it to feed us. When I grow up and get a job, she’ll stop it.

Can two close friends be more un-alike? Zorami wonders. Kimi has such an open, free and frank nature, while she tends to be secretive, hiding her feelings and facts about herself. It’s like Kimi brings her inside outdoors for the rain to wash and cleanse, while she keeps hers carefully covered.

The two girls first met on their first day of school. The event is etched in Zorami’s memory, and after years and years, she can still recall details of it with the least effort.

About to attend school for the first time, Zorami was excited yet a little fearful. During the morning meal, her father gave her a solemn talk: Mami, work hard at your studies. If you are educated, you can get a good job when you grow up. I wish you would become a doctor; doctors serve the society in a wonderful way. Then he turned to Lawma, her cousin who was staying with them. There was no school in Lawma’s village, so his parents had sent him to the town to study. You too, remember that you are a boy. You have to grow up and provide for your parents. So study hard and do well.

Meal over, Zorami put on her Sunday dress. It was a pretty print with red and yellow flowers. Mother had washed and kept it ready for the special occasion. Then mother combed her hair and tied it with a red ribbon. Soon, she trudged to school behind ‘U Lawma,’ four years older and in Class Two. As she had only an alphabet book to take to school, Lawma was given custody of it to make sure she didn’t spoil it before classes started.

When they reached the school, Lawma met his friends and ran off to play with them, forgetting all about his little cousin. Children were running around playing. Zorami felt quite lost and became homesick. She thought about Matea, her baby brother, wondering who would look after him when grandma was busy in the house. He wouldn’t have anyone to carry him either. Mother would go out to work in the farm or to fetch firewood. Matea was only two years old, too young to start school. And she, the elder sister, was a big four-year-old and should not cry, she told herself, even as she blinked back tears about to spill over.

When the first bell rang and children were rushing into the school, she panicked. She too walked in and saw that the building had two rooms. Some children went one way and others another way. She didn’t know which way to go, so she stood in the middle, near the doorway of the partition.

A girl passing by said, "Naupang te, i pawlah kal ta che! Little child, go to your class."

Keeping her tears in check, Zorami said, I want my U Lawma!

You’re Lawma’s sister? He must be that side, she said, pointing towards one of the rooms.

She went in. Lawma was playing hustle with the other boys on a bench and didn’t notice her. She stood silently, waiting to catch her cousin’s attention.

Lawma, your kid sister’s here, someone told him.

He turned to her and scolded, Why do you just stand there! Can’t you even say ‘I want my book’?

I want my book, she echoed.

What’s the use of saying that now? Don’t be stupid!

He gave her the book and showed her the place for Class A, in the other room. The class started. All strange faces. Zorami was sitting in the second row while the teacher called out their names. Suddenly, a fair, curly haired girl sitting in the front turned back and made a face at her and smiled. She responded with the same gesture. That was the beginning of their lifelong friendship.

When the teacher went out after some time, Zorami noticed the curly haired girl; she was jumping around and talking loudly. She came over to Zorami and pulled her out of the bench to play. Reluctantly, she got up from her place. As they talked, they came to know that their houses were not far from each other. So they went home together and met again after school to play.

After that first acquaintance, the two girls became inseparable. They always went to school together, walking up the slope, carrying their books in schoolbags, straps slung across one shoulder. The bags were sewn out of cloth woven on a loin-loom, where the weaver had to work with one end of the loom strapped to her back with a broad leather band. If Zorami was the one to come out first, she would walk to Kimi’s house to call her; and if Kimi was the first to set out, she would do the same. Their mothers used to laugh at them for this, but to the two girls it seemed a perfectly logical thing to do.

The school walls were made of woven split bamboo, with corrugated iron sheets for the roof. The walls were lined with windows without shutters, and the floor was bare earth. The children jumped in and out of the windows when the teachers were not there. The building was divided into two rooms, one side for classes A, B and One, the other housing classes Two and Three. Three teachers taught all the classes, rotating according to their subjects.

A, AW, B, CH… They learned to recite the alphabets. The Christian missionaries from Britain, who brought education, had introduced the Roman script, as the Mizo language had no script. Along with that they learned tonic sol-fa musical notation and handicraft, where the younger children had to make things with clay or weave toy mats with shredded banana leaves. These skills were developed along with the academic subjects. The bigger boys learned to make bamboo baskets while the girls learned embroidery, knitting, spinning and other household skills. Zorami liked embroidery and knitting, but couldn’t learn to spin at all. Kimi, as usual, was good at all the handicrafts.

Zorami couldn’t do well in drawing either. Once, when the teacher told them to draw a cow, she just couldn’t draw anything that looked like a cow, but she had to show her work. Dissatisfied, the teacher asked, What is this picture? Confused, she replied, It’s an animal I saw in my dream! The class roared with laughter.

Zorami was the youngest child in her class. At that time, parents were not in a hurry to start their children’s schooling. Kimi was sixteen months older than Zorami, and some other children in the class were much older.

When not in school, the two girls played house, climbed trees and dug out dung beetles. Climbing trees and digging out beetles were boys’ games, but Kimi and Zorami played them anyway. Didn’t it feel great when they found big beetles with strong horns! They’d make them fight to see which was the bravest. But the greatest fun was sliding down a hillside on a mound of freshly dug earth. Then they’d forget to go home until dark. That brought on scolding, of course. But the fun they had was worth it.

Even night was time for outdoor play. Dinner of rice and vegetables would be over at sunset, and the children would be out for pawnto, where they played group games. They specially enjoyed playing