Sohail and his father looked rather attractive, in their spotless white kurta pyjamas picture perfect in their bereavement, as they sat with bowed heads, sharing the sympathy their friends and well wishers came to offer on their tragedy. Nobody talked about it, but it was there, screaming loudly in the silence. Why did she do it? What was it that she lacked a wealthy rich husband and such lovely children? There was in this silence, an affirmation long rumoured, that she was hypersensitive ready to go off at a tangent. Poor Sangvi saheb, how grief stricken he looked!      All the people gathered closer around him to show their solidarity. Now there was Natasha, appearing rather puffed, her mother should have at least spared her a thought. Thank god Natasha was married. Under the present circumstances, even the bravest would baulk at the idea of being associated with such a stigma of unnatural death. Now for boys things are different, Sohail has a girlfriend tucked away somewhere. Someone whom both his parents had disapproved of; for absolutely different reasons.      Ma had disliked Ayushi on sight, with here skimpy dress and awful giggle. She was too obsessed with her legs and arms. There was nothing beyond modeling and dresses. How Ma had despaired, Sohail not this? But he seemed completely enamoured. All his friends found Ayushi very attractive and extremely successful. She was aiming to become and international model. Papa's was annoyed that although Ayushi had a reasonable education, she didn't come from the right strata of society. Her father was just some retired wing Commander. So Sohail was torn between the two and it appeared that Ayushi would soon tire of him.           Mothers can be quite a handful, mused Sohail. Or is it only mine that was so different? Other children had mothers who fitted into a mould. Oh they were all highly qualified, doctors, successful business women but as mothers they were so unlike Ma. Well Ma was so deceptively conventional to look, at.      Long black hair, large kohl rimmed eyes, a round red bindi setting off her fair face to perfection. She always sported demure long loose salwar kameezes and for formal wear she wore those elegant, exquisite sarees.   "Ma, Ma," called out Dadu from his room.   Dadu had been keeping indifferent health and was living with us for sometime. As far as we remembered Dadu was always ancient, only recently he had become cranky as well, demanding that Ma feed him and always hang around him as if he were a small infant. Ma was fairly impatient with him.Our Ramswaroop dealt with him in a very dutiful and obedient manner. But Dadu would cheer up only when Ma was around.     Dadu maintained that Ma was the reincarnation of his own mother, born to him as his daughter in this life. So he lavished all his affections doubly on her. No wonder she was so spoilt! She grew up to be a very willful and independent person. Dadu would often reiterate that we wouldn't love her as much as he [Dadu] loved her.        Ma just dismissed these jealous statements with a shrug. How could her own children not love her, she so doted on them? "Sohail, called out Ma with a twinge of irritation, don't hang on to the phone for so long, I am waiting for my staff to call me about the interview they had gone for." Ma was working with a magazine, and had recently become it's editor, so she was taking her job rather seriously. "Ok, Ok I have finished, called or rather shouted out Sohail. You and your magazine what rubbish you publish, continued the young fifteen year old. What is this you have written about marriage? You don't believe in it?" Ma had replied that marriage was like a contract - and like any contract people cheat, or it breaks up. What was more important were the emotional ties. You care, so you will be tied to each other, not the other way round. "But what about the rest of the family?" "The same principle applies, if you are emotionally bonded, will you take care, and otherwise no amount of marriage will give you security or protection." "What about the children?" "They will receive affection and loyalty only on this basis: not because any legal contract gives them a right to love and protection. Marriage was started as a means of keeping a woman from going away, when man began settled agriculture. It reflects the man's insecurity more than the woman's. The rules made were unfavourable to the women, so how can I uphold anything which goes against my interests?" "Then why did you marry?" "Otherwise, you and Didi would have been in trouble. Society is not as yet ready for such ideas. Besides, this might lead to greater decadence, as most people are selfish and can't see beyond their own self interest and enjoyment. So the woman might be left holding lots of babies at the end of the day." "Ah, so I was right you can't do without marriage!" "Unfortunately as a means of coercion not as you assume it to be ties of affection and loyalty. Yes I do sound cynical don't I; but darling that's the truth."   Ma had rushed off to receive the all important call. But that was her all over so unpredictable, like the sudden showers in the midst of a hot summer. Refreshing, rejuvenating yet unexpected all the same.       Mamma, "Didi is on the phone again, why don't you stop her," complained Sohail, "Mamma, Sohail never let's me talk, to Ranjeev in peace - he's always hanging around," exclaimed Natasha, slamming the phone and flouncing off. Ma hurried behind her, "Don't take him so seriously, he's just a child". "A full grown man, and he goes on and on about Ranjeev's beard and his rather arty tastes." Ma just smiled, but this annoyed Natasha, she flared up, "It's all very well for you to smile, Dadu let you have his way, when you wanted to marry Papa, but Papa will never agree to my marrying Ranjeev. He doesn't come from the right background; his father is just a government school teacher." "Well sweetheart, isn't it too early to think, of marriage, why don't you concentrate on the exams that you are giving. Once you have a job, you have that much more leeway to manouver."           She was rather worried about Natasha her first born, how tiny and helpless she had looked, feelings of fierce protectiveness flowed through her towards the baby. I will never let anyone hurt you so long as I am alive. Her husband and his family had viewed the arrival of a daughter with gloom. Her mother-in-law had forbidden any show of pleasure. The only low key celebration they had was during the Krishna-paksh phase of the month when the moon was on the wane. It was driven home time and again that if she had borne a son the celebrations would be on a grander scale.           She had often wondered when the persecution would end. It had taken a substantial amount of energy to allow Natasha to grow into a confident woman with a mind of her own. Deep down inside her she knew that when the crunch came Natasha would choose to follow the conventional route, it was easier, safer.           *                 *                      *      It was beautiful morning, with sunshine streaming down from a clear blue sky, giving comfort on a winter day. Winter holidays were always so brief, thought Sohail, as he picked up his bat. "Just one more over," he pleaded to a rather determined mother. "Well at this rate we will never get to see the migratory birds at Guda." "Mamma, I am going to get ready," answered a more obedient Natasha. Ma was such fun; there was never a moment of boredom with her around.     Those were the puppy dog days, reflected Sohail. Ma patiently initiating them into the wonders of reading; ever ready to explain the meanings, the nuances of difficult words. Summer holidays were even better, long hours spent lazily floating in the pool, afternoons playing scrabble, watching some old Hind film, or just sleeping off the long hot summer afternoons. There were times when Ma would get worried about our handwriting, and insist that we do a page each of Hindi and English, handwriting daily. Didi did hers diligently. This underlined my disinterest; and made Papa wonder whether I would amount to anything very much in life.      Even Papa would be relaxed and organise an outing to some remote hill station as Jaipur would be so unbearably hot. These jaunts would more often leave us tired and deflated though we dare not admit it to Papa .There were attempts also to make us learn classical music and dance, much to Dadi's discomfort. She would be muttering to Papa, "Girls' from good families only dance and sing in family weddings, and so on, on the same lines. Papa, of course surrendered to a determined Ma, who dismissed these views as archaic. Not that it helped anyone in the long run, Natasha lost interest by the time she reached high school, and Dadi remained offended till the end. We would also mess around with mud and clay, turning out some monstrosities, which would be proudly exhibited as Sohail's work.        I came back from college to find Didi in a flood of tears, and Papa smoking glumly outside. There was something terribly wrong as nobody responded to my cheery, Hi, everybody I am home.   So Papa had dismissed Ranjeev totally! Poor fellow he was a good sort, but then Didi had gotten through her UPSC and managed the Income Tax service. While Ranjeev had failed in all the three attempts. twice managing up to the viva level. He was quite bright just tough luck, I guess. Ma appeared as woebegone as Ranjeev. She took Natasha's decision to break up more seriously than Didi herself. Ma had grown quite fond of Ranjeev.      Later he did receive a teacher fellowship for Harvard, but by then even he had grown bitter. Ma you were too idealistic, how could Didi have waited for him indefinitely? Besides, Didi was always closer to Papa and also in awe of him. It was better for all concerned that Papa found a match for her, which Ma accepted with a little persuasion. There was always a little coolness between Ma and Didi after that. I guess that's the time Ma got more dependent on me and it was also the time when Shaina entered our lives.       Papa and Ma had always been a complete whole each was incomplete without the other. Through the many years of their lives they had been one, yes they had their share of slanging matches, terrific rows, but it amounted to nothing. I had heard Papa say often enough, while commenting on other men's affairs, that it's only those men, who have love marriages who, dare to stray from the straight and narrow path. The women with arranged marriages would sigh with relief, and Mamma would be smiling benignly; secure in the knowledge that despite Papa's proclamation, he would never embark on another adventure.        When we were young Mamma seemed such fun daring us to do all sorts of things, surfing, deep sea diving, canoeing. Participating with us with an abandonment of a child. As we grew older, we began to find her enthusiasm, embarrassing. We were constantly carping, Mamma you laugh too loudly, everyone is staring at us, or your swimsuit has too low a neck line. To which she replied dismissively, with a laugh, I should wear a burqua and swim. But all our criticisms could not get her down. Not that we intended to either. We loved her too much to let her be therwise.                                                                                                  I think it was the Shaina episode that left her, shattered. She just could not trust anyone again. Can one ever be objective about someone who comes as a tempest in one's lives? That fateful evening dark storm cloud had gathered, it was stiflingly close inside. Suddenly the storm broke. The raging winds blew fine sand into our faces. Nature appeared to be in as extreme a fury as Mamma. I watched helplessly, as she raved and ranted of the years gone by like a desert waste. How I hated Papa for reducing Mamma to this wretched state.           Shaina was a complainant in one of the many dowry related cases Papa dealt with as an advocate. She was an engineer, and her marriage had not worked from day one. There were beatings, starvation and other forms of torture. She apparently bore it all. To preserve her father's honour. Papa was taken in by her youth and her innocence. She was using him to ensure that the case went in her favour. Shaina, I wonder what really went wrong with her marriage, because she was so adept at manouvering, men and situations and looking like a lost cause, and Papa just loved lost causes. Ma had sensed danger; tried to prevent Papa from getting involved, but can one stem the tide by wise words. The phone calls became more frequent, the meetings more regular till we were all carried by the current........           The Shaina chapter didn't last for long, when it ended however Papa discovered himself in the ruins of an old desolate building. Mamma had left for Delhi, her head office required her there. I was in and out of hostels and moving ahead in my life. I guess it must have been terribly lonely for Mamma. Somehow it's difficult to imagine her as lonely, she who was so vibrant, had filled our lives with the colours of a rainbow. The times that we spent together so much remained unspoken in an attempt not to reopen old wounds, could it have been better, if we had just let down, wept, cried like the days of old?           She was more silent of late, morose and withdrawn; Papa would stay with her, when in Delhi. She was courteous, polite and correct. He wanted to be forgiven, but Mamma had become a stranger, she did not wish to be involved meanwhile; Ayushi's patience was running out, she had given me an ultimatum, now or never. Ma, you didn't spare my feelings when you said all those things, about girls who sway their hips to earn money and adulation. I wanted to get back at you, somehow, that's why I blurted out, 'Papa was right in carrying on with Shaina, you would stifle any one with your outdated ideas.'    It was almost as if I had shot her through her heart. Her eyes dilated with fear and anger and then immediately a curtain was drawn on them Mamma I am sorry, let's not fight. Let's not quarrel Mamma do you hear me......                                               ** The End **