Rashmi's Space

  It was only a few weeks ago that we heard of the now notorious Blue Whale game for the first time in India. At the time, we breathed a collective sigh of relief that this is not something that we have to tackle in our country, yet. Nevertheless, we warned our family and friends about this and began to worry about our children, praying that we do not miss any signs when it comes to our own families. And then the reports came of a suicide of a teenager in Mumbai; and the rumour mills started working overtime connecting this to the global horror of the Blue Whale phenomenon. Of course, there were counter rumours too, which denied any connection between the two; but warned us, anyway, about being vigilant when it comes to our children and their activities.

They were five of them that day. The sun was shining brightly and the track was gleaming after the early morning rain. They had just sent their children in the school bus and were now taking their regular rounds, walking. After the initial discussion of who had packed what for their kids' lunch, they had now settled in a quiet rhythm, brisk walking around the building complex. Silent and together. Keeping pace with each other. A tight group of friends, five middle-aged women. He came from the other direction. He was young, lean, with an athletic build. He was wearing a branded sports vest and shorts, running shoes and wireless headphones. His cell phone was strapped to his bulging biceps. He was jogging, and the rhythmic thump of his feet could be heard long after he had passed them on.

“This is how you make it, isn’t it?” She smiles. Yes. She watches as the chutney, made exactly the way she makes it, is being taken out to the table where the men are having their breakfast. “What’s with the new chutney?” says Appa “Try it, it is a new recipe,” says Amma “I tried, it’s nice; very tasty, that is why I asked.” “Hmmm. Good, you like it then.” It has been over a decade. Her’s was a match made in heaven (and college). But her in-laws took time to realise that (the heaven part). And till they did, they kept reminding her about her ‘outsider’ status and her ‘other’ness and how she was ‘different’ from them. For the first six months, she wasn’t even allowed to touch any cooking. Only cleaning the kitchen and the vessels afterwards had been her job. She wasn’t supposed to touch any food preparation, especially the food that was prepared for her husband. By the end of the year, she was promoted to helping with the cutting and peeling of vegetables