Family Short Story – Runa Mausi and Me
Photo credit: carygrant from morguefile.com
I stood staring as the house, even as the woolly clouds kept hovering over it and me suspiciously.
“Kake chayi (Who are you looking for)?” I turned around to face a portly, middle aged woman. Clad in a pale yellow cotton sari, she had an umbrella in one hand and a plump, black polythene packet in the other.
“Runa mashi?” I asked, my eyes brimming with tears. The woman stood staring at me for a minute. A few lines appeared on her head. Her eyes stood on my face for a long time, her mind seemingly full of questions.
“Antasheela?” she asked with a quiver in her voice.
“Yes, mashi. It’s me. It’s your Antasheela.” I said, leaning into her to hold her against myself. She put her arms around me, pulling me in a tight grip. Mashi, it’s a term which we use in Bengal, for one’s mother’s own sister. But Runa mashi was not my mother’s own sister.
I had known Runa mashi since I was quite young. Once, Ma and I were staying with Didun during the summer holidays. Didun was going through a rough time. I could understand from the late night conversations she and Ma used to have every day. Dadai had passed away when I was only five. Though it was only Didun and no one else, she had comfortably survived most of the after years on his pension.
But as years went by, things started to change. The cost of living started increasing even as the pension amount remained the same. I used to remember Ma visiting her fortnightly with me and handing her a small roll of money. The money that she had started making by sewing blouses and stitching borders of the saris for the neighbourhood ladies for a small price. She could not mention any of this to my Baba. He too was not going through a very good time either. He was in the early stages of his career. He was struggling to learn the art of business. He was working hard to give us a better future. He would be out all day, return tired at night. And move out the next morning. He would get phone calls at odd hours, he would have to go. Without asking anything, Ma would sit by the window, waiting for him to return, staring at the moon or the moonless sky.
One day, a woman had come up to Didun’s door step. I must have been around fourteen. I remember being engrossed in one of my story books, half laid down on the bed, and she feeding me my lunch. This was a thing that had carried on till the time when the roles got reversed. The last beautiful memories of me and her were, me feeding her lunch and dinner every day, as she lay in her deathbed and telling her the stories she once used to tell me.
“Keu achhe (Is anybody there)?” the woman had called out from the door.
“ Kay (who)?” Didun had asked from inside, shoving a ball of lentil-rice in my mouth.
“Can you please come outside?” she had asked in return.
“I am coming. Wait.” She had put the steel plate down and gone to the kitchen to wash her hands. I had then followed her to the door.
“Yes?” didun had asked.
“Nomoshkaar, I am Runa Maity. I heard you are looking for a tenant.” She had said, dabbing her sweaty mouth with her worn out cotton sari pallu.
“Yes, yes. Please come in. I am Durga Roy.” she had said, her eyes lighting up. She had then taken Runa mashi to her bedroom which also doubled as the living room when the need arose.
“Please sit. I am coming.” Didun had said, straightening the creases of the side of the bed and then rushed out. I had stood by the door while we had exchanged formal smiles. Then she had called me inside.
“What is your name?” she had asked me, indicating me to sit beside her.
“Antasheela Bose.” I had said smartly.
“That’s a pretty name. What does everybody call you at home.”
“Dushtu.”
Runa mashi had laughed heartily as this. Later on when I had become closer to her, she used to tell me, my name was appropriately given. Naughty as I was, the name suited me just fine, she used to say.
Didun had come in with water in a steel glass and some Marie gold biscuit.
“It’s too hot outside. Isn’t it?” Didun had said handing her the glass and biscuits. Runa mashi might not had been expecting it, as she had taken the glass in surprise but drank the water up in one go. She had then licked her lips with relish and given us a smile.
“Thank you, so much.” She had said. “I heard you have a room up for rent. I need one urgently. “
“I have one room at the back of the house. It has an attached toilet. It is not connected to this house. It also has a well just beside it. “
“It will do.” Runa mashi had said eagerly. Then she had added a little hesitantly “What is the rent?”
“It is three hundred rupees per month.” Didun had said. Her face had fallen instantly.
“At the moment, it will be difficult for me to pay this amount. Can you please accept two hundred and fifty rupees for the first few months? Then I would increase the fifty rupees.” She had said. I had been impressed at her earnest appeal. I had wanted Didun to agree immediately. I knew she needed the money. Still I had wanted her to agree. And she had.
“Okay, Runa. That will do. You can shift this month itself if you want, on the fifteenth.” She had said with a smile. Runa mashi couldn’t have hidden her gratitude as she had smiled after a moment of seeming surprise. Then she had ruffled my hair and taken our leave.
Runa mashi had always shared a special bond with Didun. I remember, every evening, after Didun had finished off her prayers, and set the kettle on fire to boil water, a faint knock would be heard on the back door of the house. The back door led to a small piece of land, at the far end of which was the little one roomed house and a well. A few coconut trees barricade the land separating it from the next neighbour’s two storied building. Every evening she would come and sit crossed legged on the kitchen floor. She would wait for to Didun take out two cups and fill it up with steaming hot tea. Then they would dip rusk biscuits in the tea and have it with relish, sharing the day’s trouble and concerns, neighbourhood news with personal opinions, recipes with the secret ingredients and other things like, a little love and a little care.
Didun had never asked Runa mashi to increase the rent. She had accepted the two hundred and fifty rupees with a smile, every month. Even when after a year Runa mashi had wanted to increase the rent, Didun had declined. She knew how hard it was for her pay the amount. She was a widow raising a little boy all on her own. She was a primary school teacher at the local school.
I had got to know, much later that, when Didun was in her death bed, she had asked my mother to get a lawyer who could draw up a will. Everybody was surprised. Since my mother was her only child, why was a will being drawn up? I think my mother had known why. Every time a curious question would come her way, she would just smile and shrug. Soon after the will had been drawn, the intrigued relatives had been shocked. Didun had left everything for my mother. Except the little one roomed house at the end of the land. And that well, as well. And two of the coconut trees.
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