The Locked Room

Jhumpa was surprised.

Her grandma seemed to be turning younger. Her walking stick was gone, her stoop was gone, as was her shuffling footsteps. In fact she was humming around the house as she took over her previous role of, stick-your-nose-in-everyone’s-business.

Jhumpa was a student pursuing her doctorate in Literature at the Pune university. Her mother had been insistent she paid a visit to her Grandma who lived in Mangalore along with her uncle and his family. Actually uncle lived with her.

Mangalore with its blue seas and pristine white beaches was second only to Goa, in her choice of destinations, but a girl has to complete her thesis too.

Nevertheless, she decided to go over for the long weekend.

 

The Sherlock Holmes in her awakened.

She started following grandma around the house.

Grandma was up at dawn, listening to the birdsong in the garden, as she immersed herself in meditation. Watching her, Jhumpa was transported in days bygone. Her mother woke up early to do her riyaz, singing mellifluously while playing the sitar. Grandma, would be in the garden, meditating.

This was followed by hot filter coffee. The aroma was nothing short of being heavenly.

 

Next Grandma, made the filter coffee- for all. While aunty served freshly cooked upma, with dollops of desi ghee and coconut chutney. Surprise- grandma did not complain! In fact she praised the tasty dish, “Revathy, your upma is heavenly… like prasad!” Well aunty could be knocked down with a feather. “Are you OK Amma?” uncle blurted.

She smiled and batted her eyes.

 

Throughout the day Grandma pottered around the house, teaching the servants how to dust the house, clean the vessels and make the perfect ‘pulimunchi curry’. Everytime she crossed the old room of Grandpa, she would look at it longingly. Once she even caught a ghost of a smile hovering on her lips. The room was generally kept locked. Grandma had refused to part with the furniture and many more of his possessions, once he died, claiming she needed them.

 

That evening, detective Jhumpa noted, grandma took special pains to wear a fresh saree and style her hair. At the dinner table she even joked with Jhumpa. “Girl, when are you going to get married? Don’t think you will get a handsome and witty man like your grandpa. They don’t make them like that any more. See your uncle, for instance.”

Poor Uncle was taken completely unawares, “Amma, I think you definitely have fever.” While aunty choked over her morsel, trying to suppress her laughter.

 

As the night progressed, and the household settled into the throes of deep slumber, the matriarch slipped out of her room. Jhumpa felt the cord tug her toes, as the door to grandma’s room opened. She had fallen asleep over copies of Oedipus.Quickly she ran, just in time to see Grandma slip into the locked room. For quite some time she stood outside listening intently at the door.

Laughter, banter and clinking of glasses could be heard. Baffled, she tried to peer into the room, through the keyhole.

Gradmother sat, facing an empty chair, smiling coyly, cracking her silly jokes, clinking her glass with a bottle of Old Monk, on the table.

The other glass was held by none.

Picture for representation only: Image by Jaikishan Patel from Pixabay