Fall From Grace

When the bell pealed, the girls would jump to their feet and rattle off the evening prayer. Then, Sona Teacher would smile and leave the class in the midst of a din of thank-yous. Almost at once, Nina would pick up her heavy bag and rush for the door. Nina was wiry but strong and agile and made it a point to try to leave the classroom first. Martina sometimes beat her to it but she did not mind that so much. Martina was nice. Nina liked her coconut-shaped head, short, spiky hair and big brown eyes. Martina was strong too; she liked to have arm-wrestling bouts in free hours to show off her strength to the rest of the class. They had become firm friends after Martina helped Nina to attack and drive away the school bully, a massive 12-year-old, who was harassing a fresher in the dining area.

Theirs was a small class of just twenty students. The school was an exclusive one that had moulded generations of women. Nina’s father reminded her, whenever he was home, how fortunate she was to be studying in such a fine school.

When Nina reached the gates, dragging her bag along, Kishen bhayya would be waiting there. He was always punctual. He would shoulder the bag and they would take the paved road that led to her home. The road wound along a quiet hillside. At the second bend, the quarry would shimmer into sight. She always stopped awhile there to gaze down. The disused quarry was now a deep pond. The heavenly blue water gleaming far below was like the blue in painting that hung in the school library, the one of the Virgin Mary rising into the sky, her arms held out in blessing. When a breeze blew, the water would ripple like the robes of the Blessed Virgin might have done. A lone tree grew at the edge of the sheer slope that ended in the deep quarry. Sometimes a kingfisher would be perched on this tree that blossomed in bright yellow on certain days. The first time she had seen the flowers, she had found them so enchanting that she had stood there for a long time, gazing upwards in awe.

Today, the branches were laden with flowers. “Pluck me a flower!” she said to Kishan bhayya. He set down the bag upon a stone where it rested precariously. Then he took two careful steps towards the edge of the slope, reached up and bent a bough. From it he plucked a golden beauty. The child reached out to take it from him. “Careful!” warned Bhayya, “Keep away from the edge.”

She held the flower to her nose. It gave out a scent like the one wafting from the heart-shaped bottle that Mamma used on special occasions. Delicious!

They were home in another five minutes. It was a Tuesday; Mummy was at the Ladies’ Club. Aayi , the cook, was getting ready to leave. She smiled her toothy smile at the little girl and pointing to the dining table, said, ‘Your favourite snacks and Horlicks; ready.”

As the child was taking off her maroon pinafore and cream shirt, Kishen bhayya peeped in. “I have some digging to do; just call if you need anything,” he said.

After Nina had washed and slipped on a frock, she tucked Guddi under an arm, picked up the tray from the dining table and walked carefully to the garden seat. Kishen bhayya was digging around the rose bushes. Clods of earth rose in the air and fell back to the ground as showers of brown powder. One clod, however, landed on his head; Nina laughed out loud at this. Kishen bhayya shook off the bits and came up to her. In a mock-menacing manner, he took her by the shoulders and shook her. “I shall eat you if you laugh at me again!” he growled. His hands landed on Guddi who was on Nina’s lap. They played with the doll. “Your dirty hands; you’ve stained my frock and my gudiya!” Nina cried out, stomping her little feet. Kishen bhayya gave her a namaste of apology. Then he went back to his digging.

Nina did not care for several of Kishen bhayya’s games though she enjoyed listening to his tales of his own little daughter, of the tickling and kissing games he demonstrated that his daughter enjoyed playing with him. Her name was Neha and she was a big girl now; Kishen bhayya described how big she had grown when he had last gone home on a visit.

On Wednesday morning, on the way to school, she saw that a hundred flowers seemed to have blossomed on her tree!

“I want dozens!” she cried out in delight.

“In the evening,” he replied. “I shall try my best.”

In the evening, as they neared the quarry, Kishen bhayya asked, “Don’t you want those dozens? Why don’t you pluck them today? Don’t worry; you will be safe.” He held her up by the waist and she raised her arms. She could just reach a huge bunch of flowers. She broke the slender branch and waved her trophy. He slid her down slowly, saying, “I am a slide; let’s play sliding when we get home.” Nina said, “No; I want to play with Guddi and these flowers!” She held the golden flowers in both hands and hurried on ahead.

“Mummy!” she called out, “look what I got. Just smell them.”

Her mother lifted her head from the magazine she was absorbed in.

“Beautiful!” she exclaimed and buried her face in the flowers.

Then she went back to her magazine.

On Thursdays, they always had an hour of religious education. The students were divided religion-wise. Nina’s teacher was Sister Sofiya. How Nina adored this sweet-faced, dreamy-eyed teacher who could paint such vivid pictures with words!

“Imagine a sparkling crystal vase. Without a flaw. Without a stain. Each of you is such a vase now. Your bodies are sacred receptacles meant for childbirth... 

Nina imagined a tiny baby like a Thumbelina, a fairy, or a cherub inside her. How she longed to grow up so that she could have her own living walkie-talkie Guddi!

“It is your duty to God to keep your body pure, untouched... 

She who disobeys will be punished by God. She will fall from grace. She will not be able to create or bring up a healthy, normal child. Never allow anyone to touch you in certain places. My dear girls, all life is holy...” Sister continued but Nina no longer heard her words.

The new knowledge that had flowed so sweetly from Sister Sofiya’s cool mouth had seared her.

That evening, she hurried ahead of Kishan bhayya, not even stopping to gaze at her tree.

Mummy was talking to Daddy in the phone room. Nina waited until she had replaced the receiver in its cradle. “Nina, Daddy will be home next week,” Mummy said with a happy smile in her voice.

But Nina had an important question to ask her. “Mummy,” she said, “Why didn’t you make another baby? You know how much I wanted a little brother or sister. Why didn’t you?”

Mummy was flustered. “My darling,” she said, “why this question now?”

“I want to know,” insisted the child. “Didn’t God give you any more babies?”

“Nina, I wonder if you will understand... I knew I could not have another healthy baby. There were complications when you were born. So we felt blessed that God had given us at least one. You.’ Mummy held out her arms to Nina but she moved back. Then she went to her room.

That night, Nina slept very little. She was a little feverish on Friday morning but insisted that she had to go to school as there was a painting competition that day.

“You are very quiet; you should’ve stayed home today,” Kishen bhayya said, placing his broad hand on her forehead. She jerked her head away and walked on swiftly towards the school.

In the evening, a cool breeze had sprung up. Nina’s curls blew around her head. She shivered as they neared the quarry. The tranquil blue was shaken into demented pleats by the wind.

“Flowers,” she commanded.

Bhayya placed her bag on the stone and moved to the edge. There were no flowers within easy reach as Nina had gathered them all the previous day.

“There; that bunch!” she cried out, pointing to one that grew a little higher, a little further away.

“That branch? Might be difficult. Let me give it a try...”

As he stood on his toes, arms stretched upwards, Nina moved forward until she was just behind him. She pushed him with all the strength in her nine-year-old body.

Kishen bhayya toppled. He seemed to hang in the air spread-eagled for a second.  His scream disturbed the kingfisher that whirred away into the sky.

As he disappeared, she picked up her bag. When the splash reached her ears, she was already moving homewards.