ONE DAY LESS SERIES CONTINUES. 

#4

Appu carried me on his shoulders as he waded past the crowds wearing something on their forehead that I have never seen before. Some grey coloured marking. Appu says that it shows they are also a part of God, just like how Appu wears the cap just before his prayers. I can see the candles melt and hear the people talk. They are of distinct murmurs, but then again, I can’t understand what they are actually speaking. But I do sense a collective sense of happiness, like I belong with them just as much as they belong to me, and to Appu. 

There are many stalls in front of us, like the ones that come into our village once every year. We get to buy pretty dolls and bangles, though I never get to wear them because Ammi tells me that it will make people notice me; even though I rarely leave the house. 

“Miriam, do you like this place?” Appu asks as he chooses a pretty doll for me, and I make a mental note to myself to make sure to stitch some new clothes for her, like the ones I wear. “Yes Appu, it is beautiful here. But I cannot understand where the whole scream is coming from.” 

And then, Appu shows me something that I have never seen before. Children of my age around me look scared just like Appu, but I am more giddy and fascinated by the sight that is standing in front of me. 

“That is called a ‘Pantham’ Miriam, in their local language. They are usually a part of their religious culture, just like ours. They are also a part of Bhairavi Kolam, but I don’t see them anywhere.” 

I didn’t understand half of what Appu said, but all I knew in my mind was that I loved what I was looking at, and I want to look at that all day, everyday for the rest of my life. Even if it is through the grills on the window that separate me from this beautiful world, where we all are a part of the God. Like Appu, like me; and like everyone else that is around me. 

“Sounds like there is a huge festival going on, Miriam,” he continues. “And we have to leave. It is getting pretty dark.” 

“But Appu!” I screamed. “I want to see what happens next!” 

“Well, we’ll have to see about that,” he says as he checks out a poster near him. It is not Arabic, but I can sense that this is their native language. A language Appu speaks when he talk to the traders. He says it is Malayalam. 

“There will be a show of their art form tomorrow, but you won’t understand the language dear.”

“But I want to see, Appu! You tell me all kind of stories! You can tell me this one too!” 

“But Appu doesn’t know this story dear,” he continues. “And it will need money to come back here, and your Ammi won’t agree to it.” 

“Ask Abba.” I say firmly. “Abba will let me go, and I bet Abba will come with us. He’ll give us the money.”

“Miriam…”

“Please Appu, please…”

“Let me talk to your Abba then. We’ll go home today and we’ll talk to Abba about this.” 

“So you do know the story,” I laugh. Appu knows every story in the universe. “So you’ll tell me about it?” 

Appu grins. “Yes princess, I will. Only if you agree to go home right now.” 

And my excitement of jumping up and down gave him the reply that I was ready to go home, and that I was ready and eager to come back here again to see the whole story. The story that Appu would narrate to me.