Have you seen Pallavi ?

Have you seen Pallavi? The tall, fair, highly charismatic woman you are sure not to miss if you ever pass her by. You would know her if you see her, just look for the little teddy bear tattoo on her right thumb.

I hope she is happy and charming as ever, I hope she has a ton of adventure stories to tell, I hope she has gotten used to the mildly sweet Bangalore Sambar ,I hope she has learnt to say the word “Dosa”  with the correct ‘shsha’ sound just like how a true south Indian would say it, I hope she still enjoys her long bus rides between Pune and Bangalore…I hope she is still alive.

Eight years back, I first saw Pallavi through the corner of the window of the Volvo bus. I was sitting on my assigned aisle seat in one of the middle rows inside the bus. The window seat next to me was empty. Having placed my shoulder baggage comfortably in the overhead racks I had just sat down. Most of the seats in the bus was still empty but were sure to get filled soon. The bus departs Pune close to 6 PM. It will reach Bangalore the following day. I wondered who would be sitting in the window seat next to me. That is when I leaned over to the tinted window glass and peered through the tiny corner of the window where the brown tainted sheet had peeled off and saw Pallavi.

It was evening rush hour. Pune city at this hour is unkind to the travelers with the clouds of dust and debris that refuses to settle. I saw Pallavi wiping the dust from her eye lashes carefully. For a moment I thought she was crying. She was not. She was smiling and talking to the elderly lady next to her waving her hands occasionally to ward off the gush of dust that rises every time a heavy vehicle passes by. Pallavi was in her late twenties…or she may have just crossed over the big 3-0 mark. Her skin was very fair and it had tiny brown freckles above her cheek bones. She had a long pointy nose. Her most striking feature was her eyes; it was a light brown in color. Her hair had mixed strands of black and light brown colors; it was pulled into a loose bun to the back of her head. She was about five feet and seven inches tall. She didn’t look like she overly cared about the fitness fads. She looked comfortable in the few extra pounds she had gained around her waist. She still looked very attractive in her black jeans and leopard printed long sleeved blouse.

The elderly lady who stood next to her looked like and older version of her. She must the mom. The mom was wearing a traditional white salwar kurtha. Both women exuded a certain kind of peacefulness that was soothing to watch.

The bus driver entered the bus by now and he started the engine. This is a clear and loud cue for all travelers standing around the bus to board. I watched the two ladies say good bye to each other with a quick hug and I saw the younger lady enter the bus.  She walked confidently through the narrow passage between the two columns of seats, looking for her seat number labeled on the overhead rack as she passed each row. She stopped right next to me and smiled. I smiled back and turned sideways on my seat so she could pass through to her window seat by my side. She sat down next to me, still clutching to her medium sized hand bag.

“Do you like pets?” she asked me.

I was a bit confused to hear such an unexpected question. We hadn’t yet introduced ourselves!

“Are you scared of pets?” she rephrased her question.

Although the answer to that question depends on what kind of pet she was talking about, I didn’t want a complete stranger to think that I was scared of pets…even if she meant a killer lion or a king cobra.

So I said proudly “No, I love pets, I once owned eight cats!”

“That’s great” she said, “I have two reptiles with me, I hope you won’t freak out”

“Reptiles?” I should have been more specific first.

She slowly opened the flap cover of her hand bag and carefully took out two miny turtles, each the size of her thumb. They both rested comfortably on her one palm

One was pure black. She told his name was Blacky. The other had tiny grey spots on its shell. She said her name was Spotty.

I asked if I could pet them and slowly touched their soft shells…they pulled their head inside their shells and remained like two tiny beads on her palm. She told me that they are imported from Singapore and that they are a special breed of mini turtles. They need a lot of tender loving care and they are very attached to their master! She said they wouldn’t let anyone else feed them for weeks when she was away.

Then she wrapped them in a slightly moist cloth and put them back into her hand bag.

“I am Pallavi” she said

I introduced myself and that’s how I met Pallavi! 

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The bus rolled on…Pallavi and I had numerous stories and interests to share. Pallavi was an etiquette trainer at a Bangalore outsourcing firm, where she taught a new generation of Indians how to sound an act like Americans. She worked and lived in Bangalore and occasionally travelled to Pune to visit her family. She was still new to Bangalore and had all the classic prejudices and preconceived notions that those from the North of Vindhyas held strongly about those from the South. She complained how she often found it hard to get anything other than Idli or Dosa for the morning breakfasts at her canteen and how she still cannot fathom what goes into the various “Koottu curries” served each day. She lamented how even in Bangalore, in spite of it being a metro, ppl still raised an eyebrow and judged who is hanging out with whom? 

Pallavi was distinctively opinionated. Yet she expressed her views with a certain diplomacy and respect that helped her to easily win over the other side. She sounded like the young free spirited vagabond you would find in a Paulo Coelho novel…The bohemian hippie who smoked weed, sang music in groups and saw the world differently. I wondered if she practiced magic too

 Pallavi was the perfect poster child for the independent and liberated modern feminist. She told me stories of some men who had come into her life, I found none of those men nearly as interesting as her and thought that a woman like her should never settle to be in the company of another man who is not worthy of her . One moment she was a big sister to me questioning me about my own relationships, commitment and future ahead…the next moment she was a starry eyed girl who showed off her tiny tattoos. A teddy bear tattoo on the back of her right thumb and a red heart tattoo on her upper right arm. One might find it surprising how much would two strangers share on a bus journey, yet we choose to conveniently undermine how much some of us would hold back from certain others with whom we have traveled a life time!

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The journey continued. We passed through the nauseating traffic of the city and entered the captivating trails of the country side. The long road lay straight ahead, with barren lands on either side decorated in patches with vegetable gardens, small brick houses and vast play areas where young boys played cricket. The orange veil of sun shine with dusty rose borders gave way to a darker shroud with diamond glitters all over. The passengers on the bus were getting restless as their limbs were craving the freedom and space to stretch.

The bus conductor got up from his seat and he switched on the television set.

“Do you want to bet which move they are going to play” Pallavi asked.

“Murder?” I replied.

“Bingo” she said.

It was a movie depicting the steamy romance between a young wife and her lover. The rest of the story line is not important. The music and the movie posters alone have brought in profits for the producers. Ever since the movie’s release this was the only movie that got played in every long bus ride. Some times over and over again until the destination was reached. The antsy passengers settled down for another two hours of captivity.

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A few hours later we approached a small village area crowded with several other tourist buses, taxi cabs and restaurants. Our bus stopped in front of one of the restaurants with a large dining hall big enough to seat a couple of hundred passengers.

All passengers got down from the bus and all of us knew the drill. We had exactly 45 minutes to stretch our tired limbs, to have dinner and for the truly brave-hearted to visit the rest rooms.

Pallavi and I decided to get a table inside the restaurant before it got too crowded. As soon as we sat down the waiter boy came and took our orders. Pallavi ordered Chinese noodles and I ordered sookha roti with mushroom masala. The noodles platter came to the table in just a few minutes while I waited for my more authentic Indian counter-part to arrive. She offered I could share from her plate, I politely refused. While she ate she took out Blacky and Spotty from her bag and fed them tiny turtle food pellets.

Once her plate was cleared Pallavi stepped outside the restaurant to have a smoke.  Before she left she said “Come find me as soon as you are done. I will be waiting for you to go to the restroom”. This was indeed a huge relief for me. As I said before venturing out to the ladies rest rooms in such a middle of nowhere restaurant in India is an adventure in itself, especially when you are a young girl travelling alone at night. Now I have company and I was thrilled!

I finished my dinner as quickly as I can, walked to the smoking area outside the restaurant and met Pallavi there. I secretly wished that she didn’t smoke, although I kept that thought to myself. I decided to cut this part out of the idealistic image I was building of her in my head.

We looked around for the ladies rest area. Suddenly the power went off. The entire restaurant and all its surroundings were in pitch darkness. We waited a few minutes; we could hear someone had just started searching for candles. Getting candles to the ladies rest room would be the last of anyone’s priorities there. We didn’t have much time before the bus started. I half- heartedly suggested maybe we should go to the bus.

“But I really have to go, don’t you?” she asked

I nodded.

“Well, follow me then”. She said and walked straight up to a tall young man who was standing a few feet away from us. He had thick moustache and broad shoulders. He was the kind of man who could fight off a few gangsters in typical Bollywood movie style. I could see the surprised look on his eyes when he saw two young women walk right up to him. He looked puzzled and looked around.

Pallavi smiled at him and said “Brother, could you escort us to the ladies room please? It is too dark out there and we would really appreciate if you could come and guard us”

I could see my own jaws drop as she said this. It is scary enough that the whole area is dark and eerie. On top of that she wants to invite a young man to join us to go to the rest room, what is she thinking? I wondered!!! The man had the same look as mine for a second. Then he said “Sure, sisters” and showed us the way.

All three of us took out the mobile phones and shone the feeble blue lights on the rubble pathway that led to a nearby shed that had the ladies room sign. Pallavi and I took turns to go inside while the other waited outside with our new brother. Soon after we walked back to the bus and started the second leg of our journey.

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The Volvo bus has large glass windows lined with thick cloth curtains. If you slide the curtains to one side you can see the breathtakingly beautiful panoramic view of the deep blue sky. Dark silhouette of the trees fenced the lower portion where the sky touched the ground on one side of the road…from there the sky stretched above our heads to form a dome. Towards the center of the dome the sky got lighter and lighter to a pale grey until it reached the bright ivory bubble in the center.

Pallavi and I were both looking outside though the window as we spoke quietly about the little nothings.

Her phone rang with a slow vibration. Pallavi leaned forward on her seat and spoke softly into her phone.

“Hey man, yep it’s me…I am on my way to Bangalore. I am joining this week. ..Yes the results have come…it is confirmed man…Make a guess…?? It’s a tumor…I am so F’ked man”

The conversation went on for a few minutes and then she lost the signal on her phone.  She leaned back and smiled at me.

“Are you wondering what I was talking about?” she asked.

“I heard parts of it, who is sick?”

“Well, kiddo don’t freak out if told you something okay?” she said

“I won’t, promise” I said

“I am sick, I have a tumor in my head. I was undergoing treatment for the past several weeks for recurring head aches, now the test results have confirmed that I have a tumor inside my head and I am probably not going to live long”. She was very matter of fact.

“What? That really sucks…how bad is it? Are there medicines? How about operating the tumor out” I asked.

“Well here is the problem”, she started drawing lines in the air. “This is where the two lobes of the brain are and somewhere in the middle is my tumor”. So it is not really easy for the doctors to cut it open and take it out, you see…The pain, yes it is there always …and it gets really really bad at times. There is a medication from abroad that has been effective for the pain. It is very expensive. My aunt sends me those medicines from States. “

We spoke more about the tumor and the treatment options. We spoke about how long she thinks she will live and what she plans to do with her pet turtles if she dies. I know I was still a stranger to her so she could tell me the truth about how she is going to die and not have to deal with me the next day getting all sympathetic about her. As she was talking to me, she was getting into the reality herself, she was thinking out and readjusting her future plans how ever short lived it may be.

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It was an hour past midnight. The bus stopped at a gas station for fueling. The silence inside the bus was broken by the rhythmic snoring sound of various passengers. One can guess the sex and approximate age of a person from their snoring sound. The older gentleman who snores like a blender trying to blend glass marbles, the middle aged man who snores like a cycle pump inflating a tire in short and long pauses, the middle aged woman who snores like a purring cat and wakes up every time her own snoring gets louder than a cat’s purr. The worst of them all was the man who sat in the row just opposite to my seat. His snoring was an annoying combination of a toy truck trying to climb a cemented slope and a bullet bike coming to a stop with hot puffs blown out through its exhaust pipe.

Pallavi and I exchanged a mischievous glance that said “shall we?”

I took a small tissue from my purse and rolled it into a thin cylinder. I slowly got up from my seat, leaned over to our snoring bullet’s side and slowly inserted the tissue to his nose. The man kept snoring as if nothing happened. I tried once more as Pallavi was trying hard to stop herself from laughing out loud. During the second attempt the man suddenly shook his head and turned to the other side. I jumped back to my seat , closed my eyes and pretended to be deep asleep for a few moments…The man started snoring again and we both giggled like little girls for as long as we could remember…till tears rolled down the sides of our eyes and we both fell asleep.

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“Rise and shine, we are almost there”…Pallavi was smiling at me when I opened my eyes.

She was combing her curly hair and tied it again into a neat bun. I stretched my arms, wiped my face, popped two fresh mints to suppress the morning breath. I offered her the mints and she took two of them.

The bus was reaching Madiwaala, the final bus stop.

“So kiddo where do you go from here ?” she asked.

“My friend should be here to pick me up, how about you?” I asked.

“I will get a rickshaw and be off to my apartment” she said.

The bus had stopped by now and the passengers in the front seats were already getting down. We took our bags from the overhead compartments and started walking towards the door.

“Well that was a real fun ride” I said.

“You take care girl, be good” she said.

“You too...Hope to see you again in one of these rides!”

“Yep let us hope!”

With that we both got down from the bus. We smiled and waved at each other and walked our separate ways. I looked back one last time and saw Pallavi signal a rickshaw that stopped next to her , she got into it and  that was the last I saw her.

Have you seen Pallavi- the tall, fair, highly charismatic woman probably in her mid or late thirties by now the one who is a cancer survivor? I imagine she would be an active participant in the pink ribbon marathons. She would have traveled many times around the globe by now. You would know her if you see her, just look for the little teddy bear tattoo on her thumb.

Would you tell her that I am very happy she is still alive?