Amaya Sharma stared at the bare walls in her sparsely furnished bedroom. She watched the setting sun cast golden patterns on them. Amaya had not yet hung anything eye-catching on the pistachio-coloured walls. She mentioned about the bare walls to Girish once, her husband of six months, but he carelessly shrugged it off.
“You can do whatever you feel like, once we shift to a new city. The transfer orders will be out soon,” suggested Girish carelessly.
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Amaya and Girish belonged to the historic city of Lucknow. They were introduced to each other by a common relative. Amaya taught in a reputed convent school, while Girish was a probationary officer with a bank, and was posted in Samalkha, near Panipat, Haryana. After a month’s stay in Samalkha, Amaya wanted to resume teaching. “You can drop your resume in the schools nearby. It’s already mid-term. Let’s see,” said Girish.
He knew about Amaya’s loneliness and the monotony of daily domestic chores. A job meant being occupied productively, making new friends and being happy.
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One morning when Girish was getting ready to leave for work, he noticed Amaya sitting with a scowl on her face.
“What’s it? Why are you not cheerful today, my dear Amaya?” asked Girish, teasingly.
“I am fine. It’s just that there is nothing to do in the evenings. I get horribly bored. You come back so late,” complained Amaya.
“Why don’t you meet up with Priya? She is back from Kanpur. Ajai informed me yesterday,” said Girish casually. “Besides, I forgot to tell you yesterday. They have invited us for tea today.”
“Really!’ Amaya was elated. She then went quiet for some time. “Girish, I wanted to talk about something,” said Amaya, soberly.
“I am listening”, said Girish, tying his shoelaces.
“Girish, I want a friend who can play badminton with me daily in the evenings,” said Amaya, with a twinkle in her eyes. Girish looked up, stumped. “You see,” Amaya continued, “in Lucknow Varuna was my arch rival. We played at least two matches daily. I miss the game badly now. I wish I get some one here with whom I can play daily,” explained Amaya delightedly.
“I know. Playing a sport religiously is good in every way. Let us discuss about it today evening. Radhika and Inder will come too,” said Girish thoughtfully.
“I don’t think they will be interested. Priya loves to cook and gossip, while Radhika takes tuitions
in the evenings,” said Amaya. She looked unsure and disappointed.
“They can be persuaded. You need a companion not a professional, isn’t it?” said Girish, laughing out loud.
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Dressed in a blue salwar kameez, with her hair neatly tied up high, Priya looked extremely pretty and attractive. As an expert hostess, Priya had already arranged the first batch of pakoras accompanied with mint chutney on the living room table.
While Amaya joined Priya in the kitchen to fry another batch of hot pakoras, the men sat in the veranda and occupied themselves in letting out their angst against office politics. Radhika and Inder came in after some time. Radhika chose to sit alone in the drawing room; she did not join Amaya and Priya in the kitchen.
“Why doesn’t Radhika come with us? Is she not well?” asked Amaya in a hushed tone.
“Maybe she is keeping a watch on Inder. I have heard a few things about them. I’ll tell you some other day. Give me a ring tomorrow,” said Priya quickly, pouring tea.
“Is it something unusual?” pressed Amaya.
“Ahhhhh, neighbours say Radhika is not happy with Inder. He is still close to his ex-girlfriend
and they are always on the phone,” whispered Priya frantically.
“Goodness! Girish never mentioned any of this to me,” said Amaya, staring bewildered at Priya.
Just then Radhika walked in. She offered meekly, “May I help both of you?”
“Yes Radhika, Just carry this plate for me,” requested Priya gently.
“We should have such gatherings more often,” said Girish, sipping his milky tea to wash down Priya’s crunchy pakoras. “I wanted to share an idea. Amaya feels bored during the evenings.Wouldn’t it be nice if the three ladies meet daily and warm up to a game of badminton?”
“Badminton!” screamed Radhika and Priya in unison.
“I can’t. You see…..,” said Priya. She turned towards Ajai for help.
“Priya is on the family way,” declared Ajai, and his face flushed momentarily.
The news astonished everyone. “Congratulations Ajai and Priya,” said Girish cordially. “No wonder you look so gorgeous today,” teased Amaya. Radhika and Inder too extended their warm wishes.
“Well, I have to continue feeling bored every evening then,” grumbled Amaya.
“I am free with my tuitions by five but I don’t know how to play. Sorry Amaya,” said Radhika, sounding reluctant and uninterested.
“Anybody can play badminton. You just have to start,” said Ajai, encouragingly.
“And you can use the empty plot next to our house,” chipped in Priya. “Done. Tomorrow I will come with two badminton racquets and a shuttle,” cried Amaya animatedly.
Mounds of sand and cement, stacks of bricks and long iron rods lay here and there in the open plot. Perhaps, the landowner planned to commence with construction work soon. “Radhika, you need to be quick. The shuttle won’t chase you, you have to chase the shuttle,” screeched Priya, who sat everyday on the bricks to watch the two amateur players wrestle it out. Soon the children playing on the streets started to collect in small numbers to watch the two aunties play badminton.
After two weeks of experimental badminton, one Monday morning Amaya’s phone sprang to life.
It was Priya.
“Hello Amaya.
Good morning, has Girish left?”
“Yes. Do you want me to come? Are you not fine?” inquired Amaya, feeling concerned. “No, it’s just that your badminton classes have been cancelled indefinitely,” babbled Priya hysterically. She was too eager to uncork some juicy secret instantly. “Why? What happened? Is Radhika expecting too?” “No. She’s left Samalkha and maybe her husband too. Fled to Rajpura, her hometown,” spurted Priya over the phone. “She had a fight with Inder early morning. Her landlady informed me just now.” “How horrible! I did find Radhika distracted sometimes. Too many mental cobwebs swallowing her up,” reasoned Amaya. “Now another bit of news. Not to be missed,” revealed Priya, unreservedly. “This is my last week in Samalkha. Ajai feels I should go home.”
They were silent for some time. “Amaya,” continued Priya, “Maybe when I come back with my little bundle, you’ll be gone too, to live in a new city.” “Yes, most probably. I will miss you,” replied Amaya slowly. Her voice almost cracked with emotion. “I‘ll miss you too…”
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“See, Girish’s wife is here,” announced Kushiram, the landlord of the house. He had just retired as a primary school teacher. He did not interfere or trouble the young couple, Amaya and Girish unnecessarily. That way, he and his wife Sarbati were good. A childless couple, it seemed they did not have much to share in their grey years. Today, Kushiram had especially climbed the stairs to introduce someone to Amaya. She could spot a small dark figure standing behind him.
“Meet Munni. She stays near the vacant plot where you play badminton with your friend,” said Kushiram. “She wants to talk to you.”
Amaya fixed her gaze on the weird-looking teenager. She was dark complexioned, short with a roundish body shape that got heavier near the waist. Her ordinary face appeared to be directly joined to her broad shoulders. Her neck seemed invisible. Her unoiled thin hair was tied in a single plait. The dry, flaky face and lips that had tiny cracks in them badly needed moisturising.
So did her hands and feet. It required rigorous soaping and scrubbing. The fabric of her salwar kameez was very ordinary. But despite her unassuming appearance, there was a certain spark in her eyes. “Why didn’t you come to play today?” stammered Munni, frantically.
“I want to, but Radhika has left for Rajpura,” said Amaya indifferently. After some thought she continued, “You came all the way to ask this!
Can you play?” inquired Amaya curiously.
“No…. no one taught me. But I love to watch. My father runs a shoe shop and my mother is bedridden; my two sisters are married. So I do everything—cooking, cleaning, sweeping.
My father now wants to marry me off,” continued Munni, flashing her yellow teeth.
Amaya pushed the wicker chair towards Munni. “Sit and talk,” said Amaya.
“In the evenings I watch TV, generally sports—wrestling, badminton, shooting. I have never
played but I like to watch,” chirped Munni exuberantly. “Well then, if you watch badminton games, why don’t you play with me from tomorrow?” offered Amaya.
A small beginning is better than no beginning at all.
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“Munni, tie your dupatta around your waist, like this,” cried Amaya excitedly. Amaya gently hit a shot at Munni. Munni watched the shuttlecock drop. “Munni, every time you choose to do nothing, you lose a point. And I win. You have to shed your shyness and hit the feather.”
Amaya picked up the shuttlecock and tossed it in the air. Munni adjusted her position. She lunged forward quickly, but the frame hit the feather. Munni stood with a disappointed look. “It does not matter. We will play again tomorrow,” said Amaya.
“It’s not at all easy,” complained Munni.
“What’s so difficult? Didn’t you hop, skip and jump with your friends as a child?” protested Amaya.
Thus began their badminton lessons in earnest. Munni turned up every evening without fail. One day she came wearing Relaxo canvas shoes. “Father gave this to me. They were lying unsold in his shop,” said Munni, gleefully.
“Don’t give me difficult serves,” cried Munni from the other end. “I am still learning.”
“I am dying to play a long rally,” responded Amaya.
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For over two months Munni and Amaya enjoyed their evening badminton sessions. Munni had learnt to hit the shuttlecock in different directions and to various distances. Amaya loved watching her student leap in the air to hit that perfect smash. Her salwar swelled like a balloon and her long hair plait soared up like a bird and settled on her back, once her pink shoes touched the ground. Bystanders, mostly children clapped at her triumph.
“Genius! Tomorrow I will click a photograph of you playing badminton with me,” declared Amaya, delightfully.
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One evening, Munni did not appear her usual bubbly, cheerful and chirpy self. She was too quiet and inattentive.
“What happened?” asked Amaya, casting a doubtful glance at Munni.
“I am getting married next month. I can play with you only for a few days now,” announced Munni demurely.
“Oh, Congrats Munni!” erupted Amaya warmly. “Have you met your future husband?”
“Yes, he stays in Rohtak along with his two brothers. He is the youngest and his elder brothers are married,” said Munni.
“So you will be the youngest bride in the family. Everybody will pamper you a lot. Lucky,” said Amaya. She looked so thrilled and excited for Munni. “I have news to share too.”
“What?” It was Munni’s turn to look shell-shocked. Her eyes moved rapidly all over Amaya.
“Don’t assume something else, please. It’s just that Girish has been transferred to Ambala. We will be shifting in 15 days.”
“So soon,” blurted Munni unhappily.
“Yes, it’s true Munni. But I must give you a gift before leaving. Something special. What would you like, Munni?
Munni remained quiet for a moment.
“A gift! Oh! I have already received it,” exclaimed Munni, her lips quivering slightly. “I learnt to come out and play badminton without hesitation. I learnt to be myself for some time. Are these not gifts?
Amaya was overwhelmed. She embraced her friend tightly, as both of them broke into giggles of delight.
- Anju Bandyopadhyay
