Arhi FF: Kalarikkal House (Thread 2 link posted) - Page 39

Originally posted by: latekate

That is what i assume too

Chapter 8 - Stillness

[Music Selection]

He fell asleep sometime before dawn and woke up just as the sun was rising. He looked at his watch and noticed that it was 5:30. He didn't wait for anyone to come get him, but rather left the room on his own. He noticed now in the light of dawn peering in from the open roof in the middle of the house what he hadn't paid attention to last night. As much as there was evidence of dilapidation outside, the inside was significantly better kept. It likely helped that the construction was amongst the most superior that he had seen. Clearly a throwback to a much better era for this family. They had lived well once upon a time. They were old money. Ancient, in fact, compared to him.

Hanging onto heritage and tradition was only afforded in the minds for the middle class folk of India. Physically hanging onto such notions was the domain of old wealth. It was his opinion that land was never truly owned; it was only rented for prolonged periods of time, maybe generations, but there was always a time when the ownership changed hands and some stranger took over from you. Thus, there was nothing truly permanent about it. The Kalarikkal family had enjoyed this property when it could be afforded once upon a time; they could no longer enjoy it because they couldn't afford it. It was quite simple really. To hang onto something that you could not afford was foolishness. No amount of glorifying it in the name of lineage and legacy changed the situation. In fact, to resist change or form permanent attachments were the greatest fallacies of humans in his opinion. The sooner you realized that survival meant adaptation, the better. He would have thought that two educated girls could see the writing on the wall for what it was rather than through the antiquated myopic lenses their father insisted on using.

Even though his personal beliefs about the family's plight and condition likely will not change, as he took stock of the house in the dawning daylight, he could empathize with the loss of something so grand. He had never been inside a nalukettu before, but he could see how having such an open space right in the middle of the house provided a meeting ground for all the family members who must have lived here once upon a time. There was a small stone fixture of sorts in the middle that appeared to be there only to house a plant.

As he leaned on the heavily wood-worked balustrade of the second floor balcony, he saw a form coming out into the open space down below. He could tell from her gait that it was the younger sister; the older one walked like a woman should, with poise and grace. The younger one walked as if she was already checking off in her mind the next five things she had to do after what she was in the process of doing. Her hair was wrapped in a white towel that was loosely knotted at the base of her neck and she was in another half-sari. As he watched, she circled the plant three times with her hands in prayer and then stopped for a brief moment to pray with a bowed head. Then she loosened her towel completely and let her hair fall out. It was wet now – he could tell that she was fresh from bathing – and it was long... almost past her hips in fact. She ran her hands through it quickly and batted at the ends and he saw the water drops shake out in a rush as if being chased out. He had never seen hair that long on anyone. When she was done with her form of hair drying, he saw her take two narrow strands from either end of her head to make a tiny braid of sorts in the middle; it was just enough to hold her hair in from the sides while the length of it hung freely down her back. Once done, she broke off one or two leaves of the plant that she had just prayed to and tucked it into the juncture where the braid started. She didn't notice him as she walked off in the same rush that she had walked in. With detection avoided, he resumed his walk around the inner balcony. The ceiling was a work of art itself with meticulous carvings repeated in a pattern again and again all through. When he reached one end, there was a large expanse of space overlooking the east side where slanted wide wooden slatted windows lined half the walls, allowing a perfect view of the outside while allowing for privacy of the house's occupants. The space was large enough that he could see several wide pillars spaced out throughout; they too had exquisite carvings lining their top and bottom edges. He could imagine that this place had been a mini palace of sorts in its own way once upon a time.

Off to one side, he could see a large musical instrument; it looked like a sitar, except much larger and longer in size. He walked closer and knelt down next to it. He knew it was called a veena. His sister had had a fascination with Carnatic music when she had been alive; she had talked of one day owning a veena after being impressed by a girl in her tuition class who had quite heavy calluses on her finger-tips from learning to play on the instrument. She had shown him a picture of the thing back then and he had made fun of her saying that it looked like it outweighed her by a ton. She had been undeterred and by then was quite used to his teasing and trash-talking and had put up the picture of the veena taped to the dresser that they shared. Once when angry with her, he had ripped off the picture and had torn it into shreds and she had watched him do it with a sort of helplessness that had made him want to beat himself. He hadn't apologized and she had told him that she had forgiven him anyways. It had taken him two weeks to find another picture of a veena and he had taped it up on the same place where her old picture had been. It had been black and white and not as pretty as her color one, but it had been the best one he could find. She had told him that it was better than the one she had had and he had rolled his eyes at the blatant untruth. But he had been happy that she had been happy, not that it had ever taken much to make her happy.

He hadn't known that he had plucked one of the thick strings of the veena until he heard the deep vibrating tone that emerged from its depths.

"Do you play?" he heard and turned around, startled.

He hated thinking about his sister when people could intrude on him like this. He hated thinking about his sister, period. But after last night's ruminations, it seemed that Pandora's Box had finally opened.

He looked up to find the older sister, Pallavi, standing there watching him.

"Of course not." He replied as if the mere idea was preposterous.

She gave him a faint smile as she came forward and knelt down next to him. She ran her fingers over the strings in a fluid motion and rather than the abrupt pause that his plucking had produced, her fingers even in its casual stroke created something distinctly divine. When he didn't move away, she sat cross-legged and took the instrument onto her lap, the head of it balanced on the floor on the right while the other end was balanced on her left leg. He kept his face impassive, especially when he felt an itching in his right hand to press down into his chest where something was fluttering around like a bee stuck in a pint-sized jar.

She started off slow, watching his face, while her fingers plucked one then another and then a third string... He saw the exact moment when she fell into the music and forgot that she had a spectator. Her fingers really had some sort of voodoo, he decided shortly. He had never been a man terribly moved by music. Music was like sex; pleasurable, yes, but forgotten once he was away from it. This, however, whatever she was doing with this instrument, it was something else entirely. He didn't know when he sat back against the pillar next to him and started listening. Or when they both lost awareness of each other. He put his head back and felt the sturdy wood against his spine; the sensation was reassuring as his eyes closed. There was absolute stillness inside his head for a moment... he focused in on it like a starved man... After a while he noticed the absence... there were no rushing particles pulling him this way and that, but only a swirling wave that carried him, allowing no room for anything else. And then there were waves of colors like he had seen during those times when he had been tripping on LSD.

He didn't know how long he sat there or how long she played, but when she stopped, he felt as if he was in a tunnel somewhere sliding down and down until finally he landed on hard ground.

He opened his eyes and saw her watching him.

It was several moments before she spoke, "You've never heard the veena before."

He shook his head.

She smiled and looked to the windows where a soft light was streaming in as only dawn could bring.

"There are times like this when I think I have never heard it before either." She mused.

A moment later she rose from where she was seated.

He looked up, but made no effort to get up.

"Go easy on her please. I have a morning lecture at the University and then music tuition in the afternoon, so I won't be back until the evening. She has had a hard enough time being home after she resigned her job. She is not used to idleness, not that you will see her idle too much. But she is spoiling for a fight and I think she has found a good opponent in you."

He tilted his head as he asked, "Why did she resign then?"

She sighed before answering, "Her boss took a bit too much interest in her, in a manner of speaking, and she rewarded him by slapping him. Men with power don't tolerate that sort of treatment from their employees, especially when they are lechers used to getting their way. She didn't give him a chance to fire her and quit. Let's just say that she hasn't been in the best of moods since. So if I were you, and looking forward to buying this house in a week, I would steer clear of her. She is positively lethal when provoked." She said the last with a smile before turning to leave.

"Why would you tell me all that? I couldn't possibly make the situation easier for her after knowing that."

She paused for a moment and smiled again. "I don't know you all that well, but I don't think you are as heartless as you pretend to be. She, on the other hand, I know well. And I believe in giving fair warning to unsuspecting prey."

He didn't smile as he held her gaze and answered, "You're right. You don't know me that well."

She smiled again before she walked away.

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Here is a list of things I like and that are included in this update –

* Carnatic music (love it)

* Veena – beautiful instrument (wish I could learn to play it)

* Arnav - no prizes for guessing why

* Kashi – feisty like hell, you can just love her for her spirit alone

* Music – sound of the soul

* Description of KH, I have seen some houses like this and they are awesome

I agree with Arnav about the ownership of land, one name gets attached to it for a period of time and then the next owner comes into the picture. One does need to cling on to the history and let go of the place, nothing lasts forever, nothing.

D – I did think you will include the whole hair tied in the way we women do after a bath routine in this story just to give him a glimpse of a beautiful Kashi. I though you may include a rangoli drawn at the courtyard too by Kashi, full filmy style, but you did not, no complaints. The morning ritual of praying to Tulasi was so familiar, reminded me of my mom, she still does this and hopes we do it too, at least on festivals.

Arnav – forewarned is forearmed buddy, the tidbit from Pallavi may just help you handle Kashi better or maybe not.