Serendipity : A short story
- swarnamanjari chellapandi
- May 13
- 10 min read
Many years later, Maya had returned back to India in search of something called home. She had left three decades ago, when she was a sprightly, young woman brimming with passion, in search of the vast opportunities in the Western world. Amidst all the failed attempts of persuasion by the parents, she had defied all the uncles and aunts to sail to the New World. Primarily, the reason she had left was for an exciting job offer; however, deep within, she had wanted to escape the past and the people who surrounded her then. Moving away had proved to be more difficult than she thought it would be. Having to live off a meager income had made her miss the luxuries of home; especially her mother’s tamarind rice and her father’s constant pampering. She even missed the endless bantering by her 90 year old grandmother. Quietly, but slowly Maya had become to adapt to the place more than the people who belonged there. Now, looking back, America seemed more like home. However, lately, a feeling to return back had started to plague her; growing upon her as a ghost less presence. She never found the reason, yet by sheer happenstance booked the tickets to India.
She had taken a cab to the house that stood the same as it had all the years ago. The only difference was that the people whom she had left it with, weren’t there. Ramu anna and Lakshmi akka stood by the entrance to greet her. They were the ones taking care of the ancestral house since her parents had left. As they led her into her old room, she smelled the old teak wood cot and the flower patterned bed sheets that lay untouched, waiting for her. Settling down, she lay on her back trying to sleep, listening to the whirring of the dusty ceiling fan above. The next morning, having woken up from a disturbed sleep, Maya walked up to the old mirror with the engraved butterflies, framed with aluminum metal. The coating had started to peel off, exposing the metal on the sides. There were a few of her mother’s maroon bindis stuck on the corners of the mirror. She brushed aside her disheveled graying hairs to reveal her wrinkled face; it had the worn out look of the years of rigorous monotony in her life. She then stood side wards; neck slightly drooped down, gauging how her body looked. She had put on a few kilos, and her skin had become limp, losing its tautness. She wished that her body were toned again, for she badly wanted to wear the skinny jeans and crop top that lay buried in her closet. She also thought of the unused red lipstick that she had bought recently. She was unsure if the narcissist in her remained alive.
Freshening up a bit, she geared up to take a walk outside. As a child she had known the best paths to take around the estate. The surroundings had changed, but she found herself walking her own path, confident of every turn and slope on the way. She found the altitude overbearing. Wheezing slightly as she took the trodden path, she walked past the old government school, past the tribal huts, occasionally gaping at the rows of concrete lifeless buildings that had not existed in her childhood. After sometime, she felt things around her starting to get similar, as if an old memory were brushed upon. She climbed across the entangled steps formed by the roots of the trees. Slowly coming in terms with what was around her, she realized that she was stepping into the remains of her past; the only one that she wanted to remember at the moment, yet could not grapple within her memory, which she had forgotten. It was hard for her to grasp the place around in its entirety, and she only felt the magnitude of the meaning of the place she had stumbled upon. Tripping on a stone, she immediately regretted for wearing her flip flops.
She ambled along the curved road that slowly transitioned into flat grassland. As she moved further, the grass seemed taller and she had to move away the sharp blades from her face, when she spotted the blue lake. Each time she cleared the path, she could see the lake getting closer. With a few sharp cuts on her fingertips, she reached the edge that led to the clearing. The huge kannimara tree stood by, guarding the lake. She walked across, sat by the tree and stared across the mountain ranges beyond, that faded gradually into the sky. Leaning against the tree, she saw two children by the lake playing something. They were skittling stones across the water and arguing about the number of times they had achieved a hatrick. She picked up a pebble and flung one across; sadly, it touched the surface of the water, and went ‘plop’, sinking into the depths. Relentlessly, she picked up more pebbles from around and threw it across; a few made it one more step and then sunk, while the others drowned in the first shot. She searched around for all kinds of pebbles, that she hoped will make it; round, slippery ones, sharp and rough ones, jagged ones, flat ones and differently sized ones.
With each throw, she tried remembering the faces of her ever loving parents. When did she last see them? Did her mother have black or brown eyes? She didn’t remember. All she remembered was the million kisses she had gotten before bedtime, the strength of her father’s muscular arms when she swung on them and the laughter that had filled the house during summer vacation. She remembered her grandfather; who used to cycle her back and forth from school, but she couldn’t remember the shape of his face. Her tone deaf grandmother, the strongest woman in the household, whose voice boomed across the hallway asking for something, always wore the same colored sari; but, she couldn’t remember the color. Maya felt like her entire memory, the roots of her upbringing had been completely wiped out, by a single effortless stroke of time. She tried to think of Kavya, her best friend at school; “Maya, come fast!” she used to scream in her high pitched voice, as they prepared for school. As she let this stream of memory run through her like water, she felt drenched yet failed to catch hold of it, letting it slip through the details. In the steady stream, a name keeps popping up like a rock obstructing the flow. “Anand, Anand, An…” the name repeats endlessly, but the image of the face gets swallowed by the whirling memory within her.
She was suddenly brought back to her surroundings when she felt a finger tapping her back. “Hello, I haven’t seen you here before. Who are you?” asked a childish voice. She turned back to see a boy, the age of about seven or eight, wearing a Batman T-shirt and checkered shorts. His feet were slightly wet and muddy, and his hand restlessly fidgeted with a couple of pebbles in his hand. A few overgrown fringes partly covered the tiny forehead and the bright big eyes highlighted his innocent face. Awakening from her dreamy state, she stammered before replying. “I, I... used to live here. This used to be my favourite spot on the estate.”” How do you know about our secret spot?” asked a girl from behind. She wore a green frock with lilies on it, her eyes shying away from Maya’s face. “It was years ago. I used to hide away from my parents after school. My friend and I used to play here. You see this tree here? We used to climb its branches to get a better view of the lake. It was ‘our’ secret spot then.” The boy’s eyes grew bigger as he listened intently to Maya with a hint of scrutiny. Meanwhile, the girl started bombarding her with more questions. While answering, Maya made up most of the answers, exaggerating the slightest details that she remembered. She enjoyed the interest with which the children were listening.
Once comfortable with the conversation, the children settled down to listen to her. Maya asked them their names; “I’m Deepak, and she is Shivani” replied the boy.”And you are…” asked Maya. “He is my brother.” replied Shivani. “Where do you live now?” asked the boy. “I live in America. It must be night now there.””Oh the US! We went for a trip last vacation. I loved Disneyland. I also loved the food there. Burgers! Yumm…” exclaimed Deepak again. Shivani chuckled and told Maya about how he had been crying for curd rice and longing to go back home. As Maya tried to settle the slight verbal banter between the two, she was reminded of the need to go back to America. “How long are you staying here for?” asked Deepak. Maya replied that she didn’t know.” Maybe for a month,” she added on.
“You should come home someday” invited Shivani with a smile. She was fiddling with something in his hand as she tried to muffle a laugh. Deepak shushed her to stay quiet as they exchanged glances. “What is it?” asked Maya. It seemed like Shivani was hiding something within the small fist of her hand. “Show it to me” urged Maya. Slowly, with a lot of hesitation, the small girl took her hand out and opened it. Inside was nestled a beautiful glass ballerina that had a broken limb. The tiny feet were pointed toward the ground and the curve of her calf muscles prominently outlined her figure. The toy looked Russian in origin. Her dress was coated with coloured glass. Maya immediately reached out for it, but the girl retreated back. She caressed her head with a coaxing smile and gently said “Let me see it.” She slipped the doll into her withered hand. “Where did you find this?” asked Maya with a glint of excitement in her eye. Behind the lake, nearby the felled logs there stands the tallest kannimara tree. We find these under it. “Does that mean there are more?” asked Maya. “Not just dolls, but items of every kind. This ballerina is by far our best find.” “This looks beautiful” exclaimed Maya tracing the curve of the tender glass figurine.
“Can you take me there? Please….” Maya requested. The children stared at each other doubtfully. Deepak lent out his hand. “You shouldn’t tell anyone else about it. Mother promise?” he said. “Whom do I have whom I can tell?” said Maya to herself. “Okay, Mother promise.” They lead her to the huge tree. They bent down to see a small mound nearby. This is where we have to get to work. We start digging around till we find something interesting. “Do you have all the items you had found before?” asked Maya with interest. They dragged her towards their hiding place. Behind a rock outcrop, they retrieved the plastic tote bag that they had kept before. The bag seemed quite heavy, for Deepak struggled quite a bit to lift it. Emptying the contents of the bag, the children proudly laid the contents of the bag underneath the shadow of the tree. As Maya’s eyes panned over the array of items kept, they settled on an ink pen with its nib shining above the rest. Out of curiosity, she picked up the pen and examined it closely. Parker, an expensive brand. Her father used to own one. She remembered that her school teacher used to own one. She had always wanted to own one as a kid. In spite of the many pens she owned now, this old pen felt special in a way. Moving her hand around, she reached out next for the golden broken dial of an old Titan watch. She remembered that her grandfather and her mother used to own one. As she flipped the watch to see the behind, a husky voice boomed, “Hey there! What are you doing?”
Maya looked up, stunned. She could see a hunk of a man standing before her. He wore a pair of leather chappals and a long kurta and pyjama. She couldn’t make out his features because of the sun shining behind him. She squinted her eyes to make out a thick moustache, a slighted scarred face and big ears. “This is private property. Didn’t you see the sign outside?” asked the man in an authoritative voice. Glancing far ahead, Maya could hardly see the creaky looking wooden board that had overgrown creepers covering the sign. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was private.” Maya said, a little apologetically. The two kids blinked innocently, chins down. “That is okay, the sun is setting alright. Make sure you kids get home before it turns dark. You too.” He said, adding a look at Maya. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new to this place?” he asked. “She is from America!” jumped in Deepak. A sudden stroke of surprise crossed the man’s face for a moment before the frown took its place again. “Okay, you get going, now.” As Maya slowly rose up with some difficulty, she could feel the man’s eyes on her. “What are these on the floor?” he asked. “Let me see it.” He ordered. With a hesitant nod, Deepak slowly bent down and pointed towards the items sprawled across the ground.” That one.” he pointed toward the watch. That was when Maya saw it.
As Deepak bent down to pick up the watch, the man outstretched the palm of his hand. The last three fingers on his right hand were stuck together and looked alien to his long thumb and index finger. Maya covered her mouth in shock and words tried to escape through but were stopped by the choking sensation in her throat. Gathering up all her energy, with great force, she gently uttered the word,”Anand.” Anand’s face turned white at the sight of Maya. The following seconds, they stared at each other intently at a loss of words. “Who…. Where..Are—“struggled Anand with his tongue. Taking a deep breath, Maya asked “Hello Anand. How have you been?” “I am fine. You?” As the kids confusedly looked at theses two old people dazed at the presence of one another, they stood restlessly, fidgeting about. Quickly, to ease the situation, Anand again reminded the kids to go home. Reluctantly, they dragged their tiny feet away from the tree. “Don’t worry, you can come again tomorrow” reassured Anand.
Slowly, both of them settled down on the ground. Maya leaned on the huge tree while Anand sat cross- legged. He still seemed to be fit and healthy. The hair had reduced and become wiry, but the partition was still slightly visible. The deep furrow that he had over his upper lip was hidden behind the moustache. For a moment they just looked into each other’s eyes trying to answer the million questions within them. The sun had begun setting and the lake was turning purple. Anand hummed a tune to ease the silence between them. He handed her the watch. As she turned the watch, she could see the unruly engraving that now had the letters MA A. Chuckling; she took a small pebble by her side and tried throwing it into the lake. It bounces twice. “Not bad”, he says. He takes another pebble and whizzes it across the surface of the lake. “One, two, three…..Seven.””Ughh, how do you manage to do that?” she whines. “Let me see if you can beat me this time!” he taunts her a she picks up another pebble.

This short story was written in December 2019 for a college creative writing assignment titled "Spring Tides." Republished here with minor edits.
saurrrrr wholesome 💌😻🌄