Inside Out

Sheila craned her neck through the bars of the window. She first looked to her left until she could see the engine 12 wagons away as the train snaked a corner. Then she turned right quickly to catch the guard’s room at the very end 14 bogies down. She just couldn’t wait to get off at the station. She loved trains but having a train as home for three days and three nights was enough, at least for now. The arid, dusty landscape of Gujarat had fallen away to reveal the luscious green-scape of Kerala. The smell of iron from the bars of the window mixed with smell of the red earth as the train trundled down south tickled Sheila’s nose.

She twisted Father’s wrist to check the time and plonked back on the seat. Three more hours. She had waited two years to be back here again. To listen to a tale. Look how thin she has become, her aunt said. But she has grown taller, hasn’t she, asked Appachen. Sheila was examined minutely by the three housemaids too. Mother opened up the suitcases that held gifts for everyone.

Appachen was talking to Father. She wanted Appachen to talk to her too. And she knew exactly what she wanted him to tell her. He was the only one she wasn’t shy to speak with. Two years away made her shy always and it would take a day or two before her it ebbed away. She had heard that Appachen was an important person in the village. Mother had said that he had been the sarpanch of the Panchayat. Appachen wrote a lot. Sheila loved to stand at his desk and watch as his fountain pen emit curly loopy writing. She would try to read it upside down. She loved walking around in the big wooden ceiling house. She did this on every visit. The picture of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane was beginning to yellow. The ceramic knob on Ammachey’s wardrobe was coming loose. Aunty had a new bedside table where she kept her Bible and tub of Vicks. The cushion on Appachen’s easy chair could do with a wash.

She wanted to go to the western side of the house – to the lake’s edge to show her brother how the fish would swim up to the top if you spat into the water. Just to show off. She wanted to see if there were any calves in the cowshed. She wanted to open the cavernous rice-chest and take in the smell of the ripening mangoes Ammachey kept there.

Bathe, Mother said, you haven’t had a proper bath in three days. Sheila knew the routine well. First a bath, then lunch followed by a siesta. The first two were fine but not sleep! Hadn’t we rested long enough in the train? Oh these elders got tired so easily!

Mother broke her reverie: Sheila! Into the cement floored bathroom with the gabled roof. With steam wafting from the cauldron of water, she was scrubbed down with Chandrika soap. Aunty set lunch on the table. Rice, karimeen fry, thoran, sambhar. Come for lunch all of you, she called. Ammachey served Sheila a mound of steaming rice and made a well in the middle. In went the sambhar. And a big fat piece of fish and the thoran. The elders talked of this and that. Apppacha, tell us the tiger story. Brother is here too. Sheila was never tired of hearing that story. Only if you press my head afterwards, he said washing his hands and letting out a loud burp.

A long time ago when I was a young man, much before I married your grandmother a thick forest covered this area, he said spreading his hands in front of him and around. There was talk in the village that a tiger had been spotted. I was strong and brave, you see, he said as he pumped up his biceps. One afternoon, I sauntered into the jungle because I was so bored. There was the rosewood tree, the teak and the silk cotton tree –all cloud sweepers standing still. The earth smelt of moss. I spied a heron; its black head with its scimitar, a blue jay flitted by, a koel cooed in the distance.

Suddenly it grew dark. How dark, Appacha. So dark that you couldn’t see even your own hand, he said gravely. And then, and then…he paused and looked into the distance. And then what, Brother squeaked.

And barely two feet from me I saw two green-yellow luminous spots. And then like a knife cutting through the air something pounced on me with a bloodcurdling roar. My eyes were fixed on those spots, and as it knocked me down I extended my right hand and in it went, into the mouth of the tiger.

Brother crawled up next to me…he was hearing the story for the first time! And then my hand travelled through the tiger’s throat, past his heart and stomach and then to the edge of his tail …and Sheila waited for the best part of the tale. She hadn’t heard it for two years and her heart thudded in her ribs. Appacha’s eyes shone as he continued, I held the tail and yanked it towards me. And the tiger was inside out!! Brother heaved a sigh of relief.

I was given a gold medal by the maharaja, said Appacha. And your grandmother would marry no other man from the village, he said rubbing his palms.

Back in school, in English class, teacher had an assignment for Sheila’s class. Write a story on an animal.

Sheila opened her copy book and wrote the heading: Inside out!

Maya works in the corporate communications department of a multinational consultancy in Dubai. She juggles bad traffic, long hours at a desk, home, family and reading every day. She dreams of waking up to the sound of waves in her beach cottage, a garden full of flowers and of coming home with a world full of travel memories. She loves to write but that is only when the ‘muse’ pushes her over the edge.