Short Story : Magnolia Dreams

The lucid beams of the neon light illuminated the puddles on the wet street. The rain, undecided whether to turn into snow, came down in sheets. From the window I watched little drops of water tap dance on various objects. In the silence of the night my time had become quiet to roam the memories of my heart.

Warmed by the hot cup of freshly brewed coffee I began to wander in the corridors of memory. Soon I was at the tiny room where I lived with my ma and three older sisters. It was a hard unfulfilled life. I never knew my father. He had abandoned us even before I was born. Four daughters and a wife who could not give him an heir was too much for him to bear. A useless drunkard, he had lived off my ma's income all his life. I never missed not having a father. The tales of his misdeeds had put me off any male species.

Ma, on the other hand, was a gifted, hardworking woman. I saw her age drastically in a short period of time. She made paper bags from old magazines and newspapers to feed us. As a child I would sit beside her and watch with admiration the dexterity with which her nimble fingers folded and pasted the printed paper. Every paper bag she made was a creative miracle for me. A day's hard work paid us little and often one of us would go to bed hungry and crying. Ma rarely had dinner as there was no scope for even leftovers for her after the four famished children had eaten the meager meal. I detested this but hunger was something which stayed above everything else in our mind.

Sometimes a kind lady would stop by the traffic signal where I begged. (I was around four years old and my tattered looks always got me some money). She took me to the ashram where she would bathe and feed me and give me sweetmeats. Considering me to be an orphan she persuaded me many a times to stay there with the other children and each time I would slip away, running at top speed till I reached home.

She never understood why I ran away until one day she followed me I had seen her and without a glance backward I ran hid under the dirty torn 'pallu' of my mother's sari. She stood at the entrance, watched us briefly and then walked away. We were poor but this was home and then there was ma whom I loved very much.

Poverty and hunger forced ma to pack me off to a retired army officer's bungalow as a domestic help. Major Khan was a good man. His wife worked in an NGO for children with special needs. She would often take me to the NGO with her and explain why each of the children was special in his/her own way. They had lost their only child long time back due to some incurable illness and since then loved to care for the unwanted and sick. When I looked into the hopeful yet helpless eyes of those kids I felt blessed to have what I had.

She began to teach me to read and write. I was a quick and eager learner. Unlike the other servants I did not do much around the house except tag along with Ammi (Mrs. Khan insisted I call her Ammi) or do some small jobs when required. After helping the housekeeper in the kitchen I would run to the beautiful garden surrounding the bungalow.

It was my secret hideout. I enjoyed being there with the butterflies and the birds under the huge Magnolia, Mango, Jackfruit, Guava and other trees. The fragrance of the wild Jasmine and Parijata flowers drew me to the garden and I spent hours playing around the bamboo groove oblivious to the world around me. During mornings I would gather the Parijata and Jasmine flowers and string them for Ammi and myself. Both of us had long, lovely hair and loved to put flower strings around them.

The place was paradise. Thick branches of bougainvillea cascaded down from above the high walls. Translucent shades of pink, violet, white, yellow and crimson. It was a riot of colors all around. The garden was full of flowerbeds where hibiscus, lilies, roses and hundreds of other brilliantly colored flowers I had never seen before grew.

The tall and majestic Magnolia tree was my favorite. It stood near the lotus pond. I would sit under its shade and watch the blue sky from within the mesh of its thick branches daydreaming about my future. My imagination soared with the wings of hope. When the tree was in full bloom, I would lie lazily on the carpet of flowers under it. The lovely white flowers would slowly glide down with the breeze and kiss my face. Their faint fragrance filled my senses. It was a sight that has remained etched in my memory forever. Ammi told that the flowers represented beauty and perseverance as well as dignity and nobility. I was determined to turn the fate in my favor.

There was so much wealth of colors and fragrance in the garden that I often forgot my duties. The fat housekeeper often came to hunt for me and dragged me into the house muttering all sorts of things I didn't understand. She was a kind woman but could kill for perfection and punctuality. Even the Khans did not dare say anything to her. She was old and had been with them since their marriage years ago.

Every month my salary went to my family. Major Sahib's driver himself took the money. Life changed dramatically at the age of sixteen. My mother passed away and my uncle sold two of my sisters. I never knew what happened to third one. Maybe she just ran away. I lost my family and my roots. I never went back to my home.

Major's wife had put me in a government school and paid for my education like her own child. The Khan family had legally adopted me and seeing my relentless desire to learn, had decided to educate me. I passed collage with a first class and there was a celebration at home. It filled my heart with gratitude and love. I had a family once again, Ammi, Abba and a home.

Destiny had something else in store for me. I was uprooted from my loving family once again. It was a similar cold rainy night when amidst tears of separation I struggled to smile at my waving parents. Within minutes I was flying hundreds of feet above my motherland. I was headed for New York which was going to be my new home.

Something of me stayed among the gardens, lanes, soil and people whom I was leaving behind. I felt torn away. Slowly everything vanished from my sight except the fluffy white clouds.

Alone in my spacious pent house in the glistening NY City, I watched the winter rain fall silently. There was a definite nip in the air. I covered my bare shoulders with the warm shawl Ammi had sent for me long ago. My cup of coffee was finished but there was still a little warmth and aroma left in it. I crossed my arms across my chest and gave myself a tight warm hug.

Time, beset by the winds of change, had showered on me more than I ever dreamed of getting. I had everything I had longed for as a child. A fridge full of food, financial security, a home, good clothes, friends but some things lingered on from the past like the Magnolia tree and with it Loneliness, following me like a ghost from yesteryears.

Tears rolled down slowly and steadily like the rain drops on the frosty windowpane and with them flowed memories, dreams, hopes and desires and an unexplained longing.

I removed my hair pins and let the clouds descend on me.