Maa by Sharonjit Sadhra
“Wake up Trishna!” yelled my mother.
“Just two more minutes, maa, please. Just two more,” I said.
“Trishna, out of the bed now.”
I opened my left eye a little and saw my maa standing there with her left hand on her hip and her right hand holding a broom. She was wearing her green suit again, which didn’t look green anymore due to the numerous times she had washed it. Her hair was combed into a nice long braid. I knew that this meant it was her cleaning day. Every Sunday morning, she would wake me up and we would have to clean the whole house. I despised cleaning, especially the bathrooms. I would throw up every time I tried to clean them. They were not dirty or anything, it was just that I had “bathroomcleanaphobia,” the fear of cleaning bathrooms.
“Maa, I think I have a fever, and my stomach is really hurting,” I said. I knew lying was wrong, but my maa’s cleaning days made me lose approximately five pounds, and no, I am not exaggerating. I was eighteen, but only weighed eighty pounds.
“Let me see your forehead, Trishna,” said my maa. “It doesn’t seem warm to me, but if you feel sick then I will call Bimla.”
“No, maa! No! I think I just ate something wrong. I feel a little better. I will be okay. Don’t call Bimla.”
“Are you sure?” my maa asked with a smile on her face.
“Yeah, yeah, pretty sure.”
“Okay, then wash your face and come downstairs.”
“Okay, maa.”
I hate it when my maa uses Bimla as a threat. Bimla is the village nurse who thought that the cure to every problem was the drink she prepared, which she made using turmeric powder, ginger powder, garlic, and sesame seed oil. She mixed all these things together and added a little bit of milk in it. Trust me it is the worst thing in the world. I had to take it last year when I caught a horrible cold. I could not get the taste out of my mouth for hours and it took two whole Colgate tubes to get it out of my breath. Just the thought of it gives me nightmares.
I got out of bed and looked out of the tiny window in my room. Outside, the village maids were cleaning the gutters and sweeping. The sun was just coming out, but already it was hot. I looked towards the fields, soon the basmati—rice—would be ready and all the farmers would get busy. My small town called Tanampur in India is the sweetest and friendliest town.
I dragged my feet towards the bathroom. When I reached for the bathroom doorknob, I heard crying sounds inside. Who could be in my bathroom? I quickly moved away from the door.
“Trishna,” a voice said from inside of the bathroom, “How are you? I have been waiting for you. What took you so long?”
I screamed and was just about to run downstairs when I heard giggling sounds inside the bathroom. I moved a little closer to the door and heard some whispering. I had a feeling that this was none other than the two little brats. I quickly opened the door, and out came my five-year-old brother with my seven-year-old sister. They ran downstairs laughing before I could catch them. My brother was running behind my sister, but she was too fast for his little legs to catch up with so he held on to her long black ponytail.
“I am going to kill you two,” I said, running after them.
They ran even faster and headed for my maa who was in the kitchen cleaning the refrigerator.
“Stop running,” said my maa. “Why are you chasing them? You are not a little kid anymore, Trishna. Now stop behaving like one and start cleaning.”
“But maa, they were messing around,” I said.
“No buts—go do what you were told.”
I went to the closet and grabbed the duster. I went into the living room filled with anger and started dusting the pictures that hung on the wall. I started with my dad’s picture. In the picture he was standing there wearing his army uniform. The last time I met him was when I was thirteen. He was going to Kashmir to fight on behalf of India. I remember that day vaguely. He was explaining something to my maa. My maa just nodded in response to his statement and quickly hugged him as he finished talking. There were tears in her eyes. He hugged us all one last time and left in his white car to the military headquarters. After about six months, the only news about my father came were his ashes in a red pot covered with a white cloth. That day my maa broke her glass bangles on the floor and removed her sindoor—a red dot on the foreheads of married women’s foreheads. She embraced us tightly and carried the red pot to her bedroom.
I moved towards our family picture, my picture, my sister’s, and then my brother’s. Lost in my thoughts, I did not hear my maa calling me.
“Trishna, bring all the area rugs so that we can wash them,” she yelled from the kitchen.
I dropped the duster on the floor and hurried upstairs. I took the rugs outside and we started scrubbing them.
“Maa, is somebody coming to visit?” I asked.
“What makes you think that?” maa asked.
“Well, we just washed the rugs two weeks ago and we usually wash them once a month or else when some guests are coming. So, is someone coming?”
“Yes,” my maa said smiling.
“Who?” I asked.
“Someone who may affect your life,” she said.
“Who maa? Stop with your riddles,” I said nervously.
“A handsome young man is coming tomorrow.”
“But maa, How could you…You didn’t even ask me. I am not ready for marriage,” I said on the verge of tears. Why did she want me to get married so soon? Was I becoming a burden for her?
“Trishna, now don’t start crying. I am doing this only for your welfare. I want you to be happy.”
“No, you don’t, maa. You could have asked me before you called some stupid man to come and see me. I do not want to be a puppet. They are going to come and tell me to walk, talk, sing, and who knows what else.”
“But Trishna, every young girl has to get married.”
“I am too young, maa. I want to live my life before I am handed over to some stranger. I do not want to be some child-producing machine. I want to be with my family.”
* * * *
Today was the day “he” was coming. I got up and took a long shower. I wore the new pink suit my maa brought me to wear on this “special” day. I was all ready when my maa knocked on the door.
“Trishna, can I come in?” she asked.
“Yes, come in.”
“Wow, you look so beautiful. Trishna, are you happy with my decision?”
“Yes, maa, you know I respect all your decisions.”
“Thank you so much, Trishna. This is an important day for me and you.”
* * * * *
I heard the polite knock on our wooden door. My heart skipped a beat. All I wanted to do was lock myself up in my room where I would not have to see the dim-witted man, but I had to stay for my maa’s happiness. I could see the excitement in her eyes and the smile on her face was one that I had not seen in a long time.
My maa hurried to the door and took a deep breath before opening the door. She slowly unlocked the door and in came a fat old woman with lots of red lipstick, a bald old man with dusty slippers, and a young man from whom I turned my face away quickly. I did not want to look at the young man. All I saw was that he was quite tall and was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and no tie. I quickly walked into the kitchen. I heard my maa greeting them and inviting them to sit down. I heard three voices say Namaste. The first one was for sure the old woman’s, the second one was a little shaky, and the third one was polite and slightly heavy. It had to be “his.” My maa hurried towards me and instructed me to bring the tea tray outside in a polite and timid manner. I did as I was instructed to do. I took the tray and started walking to the three “cartoons.” As I got close to them the old fat woman exclaimed, “Oh, she is so beautiful, but a little short. I guess she’ll have trouble reaching for the spices in the kitchen cabinet.”
How dare she call me short? My hands trembled with anger all I wanted to do was just spill the hot tea on her and that is exactly what I did. I pretended to trip and the hot tea poured over the fat woman’s mammoth thighs covered with a thin green fabric.
“Aahhhh, my legs!” she exclaimed.
“I’m so sorry, aunty. Here let me wipe it off for you,” I said.
“No, I can do it myself. Thank you. You’ve done enough,” she said.
“Are you okay, mom?” the slightly heavy voice asked.
“Yes, I am fine. I guess the girl’s a little clumsy along with being short.”
“No bhanji, she’s just a little nervous,” my maa explained.
“Oh, well she’s a little clumsy. I guess I have to teach her lots of things. Okay, I guess we will be leaving now.”
“No bhanji, don’t leave yet,” my maa said.
“No, we have to go to the temple. We will call you later and tell you what we think about your daughter,” she said before leaving.
* * * * *
My maa had not gotten over the tea mess. She was so worried that she hadn’t eaten properly since yesterday. She desperately waited by the phone. Around six p.m. it rang. She jumped, startled by the ring.
“Hello,” she said.
She listened anxiously.
“Okay, thank you bhanji,” my maa said and placed the phone back on the receiver.
She looked at me, my dad’s picture, and then at me again. Her lips started forming a tiny smile. It slowly turned into a real smile. I did not question my maa because I did not want to hear the reply.
“Trishna, I am so happy today. Do you know what they said? They said that they like you and want the marriage to take place as soon as possible. Thank you, God, thank you so much,” she said on the verge of joyful tears.
My eyes filled with tears, and I choked on words that were not coming out.
“Trishna, don’t cry. This is a superior proposal, which you are not going to reject. I do not care if you do not want to get married because you have to. You are going to get old and then no one is going to marry you. You’ll rot in this house for the rest of your life,” maa said with a stern look on her face.
* * * * *
I was dressed in red from head to toe and covered with jewelry. My hands were adorned with the brown color of henna and my face expressed no joy. My maa was so blissful. She seemed like she was young again. If my marriage made her happy, then I would not even mind getting married to a sixty year old. I could’ve died for the happiness on her face. She had not let the sorrow of her husband show on her face because she wanted to keep me, my brother, and my sister happy. She worked hard to raise us alone. I could never loathe her because it was every mother’s dream to get their daughter married.
I went through the marriage ceremony without looking at “him” once. I had no control over my life I could not control the flow of tears and my hands shook as I was told to take a handful of uncooked rice, a tradition, and throw it over my head without looking back.
