Ruksana Part IV - The Beauty of the Unseen.

The sun cast its effect though the glass panes at the passenger lounge, Trivandrum airport leaving me scurrying for some shade and quiet. A wave of sadness cringed into my mind as I was about to finish the 15 days holiday that had been a much awaited fun filled jamboree and carefree life at my hometown.

Another eventful year awaits me at work in New Delhi with new horizons to explore and career hurdles to cross.

Holidays meant
- Meeting up family, showing elders that I care, seeing the cousins grow, getting accustomed to new nephews and nieces.
- Soaking the sun at the beaches
- Those rides through the countryside in the Royal Enfield ‘beautiful’ Bullet
- Swimming in the river
- Boat rides into the sea
- Going to the paddy fields and trying to catch crabs and do fishing
- Playing the church organ at the family church
- Watching the sun rise at the Kanyakumari
- Watching the sun set from atop the Marunthuval malai
- Playing blaring music in the Amby and driving through the estates at 5 AM in the morning.
- Bathing in the water falls
- Eating piping hot milagai bhajji (chilly bhajji) after the shower in the water falls.
- Riding through the chilly wind on the highway
- Visiting my teachers of junior school
- Sleeping very little



I did all that. This hometown holiday is my favourite stress management tool. It transcends me across epochs of my destructive personal growth and fading innocence. It makes me feel young, harmless, innocent and good. It also reminds me of my roots to reiterate my identity.

My silent lamenting at the lounge was disrupted when a child that was running about had a fall on the floor. This child had captivated some passengers including me with its histrionics. I admired her energy and cuteness for a while. I also noticed the mother who kept the child entertained by playing child like games. I appreciated the beauty of that mother-offspring relationship.

The mother was using a toy bell to create a beat to which the child responded by thumping her foot that had an anklet.

After enjoying this beautiful scene, I returned to my fatigue driven soliloquy to be rudely awakened by a squeal from the child. She had fallen to the ground and was sobbing uncontrollably. The parents were doing many things to appease the child.

I noticed the mother clad in a black burqa was showering the child with kisses to calm her. This irritated me as I don’t endorse this kind of parenting where the child is tended to with God like religiousness. I believed children should learn from their own mistakes.

My mind knew that something was amiss and that intruded my sanity. I wriggled my mind and exercised my eyelids to clarify my surroundings.

Isn’t this lady known to me? I thought.

Who is she? Is she someone I know? No. I don’t have burqa clad contacts, no friends, Then? Is she a television actress? Or a social activist?

I tried hard to not teach myself that it was her. She was Ruksana, after 20 years since I last saw her.

I was startled. I went near her and smiled. She smiled back and said ‘Jay’.

I was sheepish. It felt funny. I have never felt so humbled but it felt good. I had momentarily changed into a 9 year old boy again. How the hell did she know my name? I asked her that and she said she remembered my very well.

She introduced me to her husband, Sajjid. He was a bearded man who smelt like a Gulf malayalee Muslim. He seemed happy to meet his wife’s friend. I couldn’t imagine that Ruksana ever had a friend. I gathered my composure.

She said she remembered my bicycle, my car and my gate-keeping habits. She also remembered my parents. Achanum ammaiyum sugam thane? (Are your parents well?). I said they are fine. I was shaking my head in disbelief.

I was startled by this confident and affectionate lady. She asked me if I was married and wanted to know why I wasn’t. She then said that she imagined that you would have been married by now.

I wondered why she had to think about me. I often remembered her.

She asked me about my brother. She wanted to know what I do to earn my daily bread.

She was happy to see me and she made sure that I knew it. I believed that she was happy.

Throughout this rendezvous, I noticed a pair of tiny, beautiful eyes looking at me from near Ruksana. I bent down to say hello to this now calm child. I was greeted with glee and was pecked on my cheek.

Those young eyes that I saw exuded power, power enough to pierce my existence and levitate me. I fought hard and asked her name.



‘Farzana’

She had those eyes, the eyes that I so liked to see from varying angles when I was a child. Those lost pair of rubies that failed to understand my offer and yearning for friendship and company, the eyes that defined pleasure when I was young and innocent.

‘No’ I thought. These eyes are different. Farnaza’s eyes were happy and willing to give love.

Ruksana used to have the same eyes, strong, healthy but without happiness and uninterested to give love.

Farzana is a sweet child.

I then quizzed Ruksana about her life. She said she was adopted by Sajjid’s uncle from mallapuram who then educated her to class X. It was then that Sajjid fell in love with her and his uncle decided to get them married. Sajjid owns two restaurants in Dubai.

I loved the glint in her eyes when she explained to me her fairy tale life.

I saw Sajjid and my face was gleaming with respect and adoration for this man. Subconsciously I offered a handshake to this gentleman who brought happiness into Ruksana’s life.

I knew Ruksana was happy.

I was happy to see her.

I never prayed seriously as a child. I never prayed for Ruksana but I often questioned her existence with God, who I believed was her creator. I asked him the reasons for her miserability.

The 9 year old with whom I wanted to play with was away in a world that I didn’t understand and despised.

The 9 year old evoking affection with the aura of a beautiful soul but could not give it out to the people who wanted to share it.

She may have prayed hard asking God to relieve her of her misery or perhaps God just relented to answer my many questions.

When the final call for my flight to Delhi was made, I bade my good byes. Sajjid hugged me and called me Jay bhai. I took a picture of the family in my camera. I was happy.

I sat at 40, 000 feet looking out and trying to come to terms with the beauty of the unseen.