First Meeting...

Some people think that riding a rickshaw is as fun as sitting on it.  And some others are so rude, they try to cheat us out of the little money we make.  I would have never noticed the timid little widow had it not been for her tight fisted sass.  How naive Koly was to think that her sass would come back.  I for one am glad she didn't return. 

I often wonder what would have happened to Koly if things had gone differently.  The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that no matter what the flow of events, she still would have found her path.  There is a rare strength in her, and a purity that invites people to want to help, to be on her side.

I am glad I thought of Maa Kamala when I saw her at the station.  Koly reminds me of the plants my baap used to plant and care for. People are so much like plants, some love, sunshine and water and the blossoming can not be stopped. 

Speaking of plants, I am so close to seeing my dream come true.  I can almost smell the pleasant aroma of the plowed earth, the fruit of the tamarind tree.  Just a few more rickshaw rides and I am off to my beloved land. 

Soon I will be saying good bye to the noise and dust that is Varanasi.  Here's a drawing of the Ralco rickshaw stand in Varanasi as drawn by Erin Lau © 2010.

Learning to Read...

Man was I mad that first evening.  The nerve she had to be surprised that I couldn't read.  Embarrasing me like that in front of everybody.  How do you expect someone to learn everything when they have to be in the fields day and night!?  I shouldn't be angry.  Koly meant well.  Look at how all turned out.  Now I can read.. well, still learning of course, knowlege has no end it seems.  I am glad Koly is willing to help.  I have no idea where we found the time, but I sure am glad we did.  Now I am able to read those new books and the Agriculture Almanac that the man from the ministry was talking about. I no longer wait on his every word, I  find things out myself.  It is wonderful!  Now I can read Tagore myself.  Read this last night:

The Gardener

by Rabindranath Tagore

If you would have it so,
I will end my singing.

If it sets your heart aflutter,
I will take away my eyes from your face.

If it suddenly startles you in your walk,
I will step aside and take another path.

If it confuses you in your flower-weaving,
I will shun your lonely garden.

If it makes the water wanton and wild,
I will not row my boat by your bank.

Down by the riverside...

Yesterday we went by the river.  Ah, it is so quiet and peaceful out there... I love the dragonflies, the kingfishers, the songs of birds.  That is what makes me feel right at home.  Normally I like that walk alone, but with Koly there, it felt right.  She is different now from the scared little widow I met at the station.  As pretty as ever, too.  Her eyes have a different light now, more mature, like she knows where she stands.

I couldn't stop talking about the village and her eyes lit up.  I think she likes the countryside as much as I do.  But I still can't figure out her sometimes.  I am glad I had the courage to tell her about going back to the village.  I hope she can see herself there beside me.  Should I have said more?  I wonder if she really understood I meant her, when talking about the wife.  Who else would I mean.

I can't stop dreaming of the fields, the house I will build, the trees and the harvest... She would love it there, I am sure of it. I wonder what she would like the house to be like.  I want everything to have light, lots of light.  Lots of light makes it easier for the embroidering.  Listen to me, already planning things with her there.

Surprise

How I wish I was a learned man, then, I would describe the house, the fields, and the tamarind tree - like I see them now.  But... where can I find the words to express the scent in the air and the eagerness in my heart to have her here.

The room for Koly is finished; one window overlooks the courtyard where the tree is only a yearling... I imagine it all grown, with its thick branches covering the sky.  I pray that we reap a great reward for planting such a wonderful tree. How I imagine her sitting here -embroidering her saris and quilts!  When she'd get tired she could look up at the tree, and find rest.  The fields from the other window would be a welcomed sight too, I imagine.

Sometimes, I fear I am dreaming too much. What if she decide to stay in the city?  Last, when we spoke, I could not read her face.  I know the city can sometimes change people.

I should get to the okra and lentils. This scorching sun has been torturing the poor plants all day.  I'll write to Koly today and tell her all about the room.