It is a December morning in Chennai and the sky is a dull grey. A cool breeze surfaces the Marina beach, forcing the homeless to pull the blankets further up their bodies. Dogs are barking at the ‘closed now’ boards outside eatery stalls. Not many joggers are in sight today. There is an eerie silence around the area.
An old man with a long greying unkempt beard, dressed in a stained pyjama and a dirty checked shirt is walking at a slow pace at the end of the street. He has watery grey eyes that give a far stare. Carrying a rucksack loaded with garbage, he keeps bending down to look closer at something that his frail eye-sight recognizes as trash. Magnum ice-cream covers, paper toys, cotton candy wraps, KFC chicken wings tubs and broken bottles of alcohol. There is not much waste in the large green plastic bins. Fellow rag-pickers might have beaten him to it.
He still tries his luck and puts a wrinkled-skin arm inside. For a moment, he mutters under his breath, probably in disappointment. But his hand finally brushes against something, and when he pulls it out, his face breaks into a toothless grin. He has found his treasure. It is a gift-wrapped rectangular box. The design on the cover has Christmas trees and Santa Claus. He feels unsure about opening it and stands looking at it for a while, turning it in all directions. Moments pass and the man sits on the smelly footpath. He sighs as he bends his weak legs. He sets about opening the gift.
The man looks up at the sky before peeling the cover, closing his eyes and probably sending a prayer across to god. He slowly uncovers the object, making sure the gift wrap doesn’t tear. Just as he is about to remove the last piece of paper, two fat drops of water fall on him. He looks confused, whether to open the gift or move to the safety of the shade.
The rain comes fast, without a warning drizzle. He decides the gift is too precious and walks to the shade of a cheap eatery stall. He settles down on the short off-white wall that separates the shop from others and opens the last wrapping. At first, he sees the back of a frame. Gradually, he turns it. There is no photo. It is a mirror. For the first time in days, he sees his own clear reflection. At first, he is taken aback — his beard is dirty, with bits of food stuck in it. His teeth are yellow and his eyes still have boogers in them. The man tries to brush off the dirt and hand-comb his wild hair. And when he feels like he has done enough, he smiles at his reflection. The rain has become a light shower by now.
Suddenly, his eyes catch something in the back of his head. A figure, a pole maybe? He doesn’t understand. He turns around, but there is nothing. Just empty chairs and curry stained tables. He looks back into the mirror. The sight appears again, now more clearly. It’s a little girl. She is wearing a faded cotton frock and has henna brown hair. She looks at him from under her long bangs, a slow smile spreading across her face. He smiles back and beckons her to come closer without turning around. She hesitates, maybe because of his ghastly locks but gives in when he calls out to her a second time. She walks and sits down across from him, on a stool. He asks her name in Tamil. ‘Ponnu’, she replies. It means girl. He just laughs.
He shows her his possession and together they look into the mirror.
“Where did you find this?” asks Ponnu, her eyes still on the mirror.
“There,” replies the man, pointing to the nearest bin.
“Ohh, I have never owned one,” she says.
“Where do you live?” asks the man. But he already knows. Her family lives at the far end of the beach, under a worn-out merry-go-round that used to be a beach attraction until a few years ago. He has seen the girl prancing around, selling alphabet books to families who visit the beach on weekends.
She points at the far-end and asks “You?”
“Wherever I find a place to sleep, I make that my home.”
The girl giggles at this.
“Do you want this?” the man asks, holding out the mirror.
“Amma has asked me not to take things from strangers,” she says, her eyes still focused on the mirror.
“Then, let’s be friends” says the man.
At this, the girl looks at where her house is supposed to be. The white plastic on the ride is flapping against the wind.
“My parents must be sleeping now” she says, maybe trying to justify that it’s okay to be friends when they are not around.
She looks back at him and smiles. “Okay” she chirps.
The man smiles back and gives the mirror to the girl. She holds it carefully and continues looking into it.
Minutes pass and the man can now hear horns blaring from a distance. The day has begun. He shares a meaningful look with a girl, as if they share a secret no one knows about. The girl nods and gets up, reaching out to hold the man’s arm. He finally stands up and they walk hand in hand towards the sea. The man pauses when they reach halfway and turns around one last time, a look of longing on his face. The area is still empty. People will soon start pouring in, he thinks. Today, some will come with flowers; others will come with their families. Some will sit by the sea and weep. Others will hold hands and walk along the stretch of the beach. Some may even pray. The man sighs; Ponnu tugs at his hand and signals him to keep walking. They walk past small patches of grass, the wet sand and finally reach the water. They do not stop. They keep walking, becoming two small dots in the vast blue and slowly disappear.
— — — -
MYSTERIOUS MAN AND GIRL SPOTTED AT THE BEACH
Chennai: Stall owners at the Marina Beach and passers-by seem to have seen an old man and a young girl walking towards the sea and mysteriously disappearing early morning yesterday.
According to local folklore, this is common sight on the anniversary of the infamous tsunami that hit Tamil Nadu waters on December 26, 2004. Meenamma, a palm-reader on the beach and a witness to this sight says, “I have heard that an old rag-picker and a young daughter of a homeless family were sitting by the beach and talking, when the water engulfed them. The girl’s parents moved away long ago but they used to sleep under that ride” she says, pointing at an old merry-go-round.
Others just brush it off as a rumour. “Somebody just made up the story and spread it. And now everybody claims to have seen them” says Kalpana, a tea-stall owner.
But nobody seems to have clearly seen their faces, just the back of their bodies. “Some say the girl was holding a glinting object in her hand. Maybe it was a mirror? God only knows” adds Meenamma.
