Mystic Mirror
Chandra Ghosh Jain

 


"Our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as
we call it, is but one special type of consciousness whilst
all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there
lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different."
-William James
       
“In a little known Village of Karanmupa on the languid river of Saraswati, the artisans crafted a mirror made of ashtamangalam, eight metals auspicious for the bride’s jewellery. The story goes that this was the divine gift to an artisan who prayed for a metal, which was like diamond and could reveal untold secrets. The King got a crown made of it and he could immediately read the minds of his courtiers. The magic mirror reflects the unvarnished truth,” the ancient voice of her grandmother filled the magical night. “Are we also of royal birth? asked the six-year old Divya. Hoping secretly to discover that she was a princess of some grand magical country. How come this mirror belongs to you?” “Ah! My Appa was very fond of collecting curios and antiques. He had served as a royal astrologer to the Maharaja of Kota and had been gifted this mirror by a traveling magician. Appa was also a healer; he knew many secret and now forgotten and extinct herbs and plants, which could cure. He had cured the magician of some long standing ailment.” The little girl had noted the pride in Kutty Amma’s voice as she spoke of her father who would also be Divya’s great-grandfather. On the other hand Divya’s father was a taboo topic between them. Divya knew enough about her mother, Shobhna. She was an astronomer and scientist. Her mother had been a dancer her photographs from various dance recitals were strewn all over the house. Her large doe eyes set in a tiny round face caught in various emotions of laughter, pain, anger, mortification and fear.
      
      Kutty Amma, her grandmother had been old when she married and had a child just to thumb her nose at the world, which called her short, fat and ugly. Surprisingly the child grew to be a slender doe-eyed beauty with brains. In fact Kutty Amma along with the world were amazed at her luminous presence. Her attraction was doubled by the fact that she was oblivious to it. Her innocence added tenfold to her exquisiteness. Shobhna the dancer, the outstanding student, yes Divya was familiar with all that, as Kutty Amma had proudly displayed all her trophies in the drawing room glass case.
     
           Growing up in Delhi where Kutty Amma had worked as a principal in a women’s college Divya was always intrigued by the stony silence with which her questions about her father or about her parents’ marriage were met. There were no photographs of her mother’s marriage. As if her grandmother wanted to wish away the marriage and the attendant pain with it. Except that Divya’s existence was a regular reminder that she couldn’t do it. It didn’t help matters that she looked more like her father than her mother. Rose tinted cheeks framed by thick unruly wavy hair. Dimpled chin and a gamine smile accompanied by a deep dimple combined with laughing eyes completed the picture. Whenever Divya was disobedient and to avoid long lecture from Kutty Amma she would vanish to the top of the banyan tree. This caused Kutty Amma to blame her paternal genes for causing so much havoc. They were the only times she came to hear about him from her. The rest she got to know from the old driver Matthew who never tired of the ways of fate. He had been witness to Kutty Amma’s sudden abrupt marriage; he was a young boy then. He was the old family retainer. Matthew loved to chat. So Divya woud spend long hours discovering her mysterious father and the enigmatic professor –astrologer grandfather. Later promoted as a driver to the principal he had taught Shobhna how to drive.
        
         Shobhna had driven into the young man’s mobike making him overturn and shout at them in fury. “ I am terribly sorry, are you hurt?” Coming from such a pretty girl the young man Ranjit Singh grimaced, staggered and swayed to his feet. “Was Appa really hurt? Divya asked anxiously. The old driver smiled, “Enough for them to get seriously involved.” Divya had always hoped her father would come and take her away. Particularly when Kutty Amma had been angry with her for some small offence. He was her Prince Charming who had forgotten about her. It made her feel abandoned and unloved. She would pray to the great unknown to take her to her Papa. She felt like Dhruv, one day she should find her elusive father in some magical land. From Matthew she had heard that her maternal grandfather, Nanosa had also never come to claim his daughter. So Shobhna had grown up without any real male influence in her life. It looked like she Divya would also know only her grandmother. Kutty Amma even in the height of her youth had been a terror. A little less than five foot with a complexion of dull mahogany. In an attempt to improve the shade she powdered it. This only made her appear a grey coloured ogre. Yes, she did not harbour any illusions about her looks. Over the years she grew bitter about men in general and reconciled to her spinster state. In this rather staid monotonous existence entered Pandit Badri Narayan Vyas.
    
           Divya was bowed down with a huge legacy. Yet another unsubstantial yet important figure in her life was her maternalgrandfather the elusive Pandit Vyas. He was a reclusive professor of astrology with a traditional choti and dhoti. He was good looking in a conventional way. Tall, fair with an aquiline nose. She did wonder as to why and how he had married Kutty Amma? Matthew the garrulous driver had informed her that Nanosa(That’s what she referred to him in her imagined talks. This was what Ruchi her friend from Jaipur called her grandfather) was an orphan and had been brought up by an old exploitative Chacha who wasn’t too bothered about getting him married. Years had gone by and one day Kutty Amma had come with her college students on a field trip to Jodhpur. She met him as they stayed in the University guesthouse. The brief romance had ended in this marriage. Did he ever claim his daughter? No, that was the primary condition of marriage. He wanted to tell the world and the people who mocked him that there was someone who had agreed to marry him. The same sentiment was echoed by Kutty Amma. So much for all the male members of her life. All shadowy and insubstantial.
        
              She sat in a darkened room, with a single candle for illumination. Before her lay the dark mirror into which she gazed for revelation. Her heart was heavy with sorrow. With Kutty Amma gone Divya felt truly orphaned. She had never felt so lonely and abandoned in her life. Despite her many tyrannical ways Kutty Amma was devoted to Divya. Her vision became less focused the longer she stared until the mirror seemed filled with clouds scudding over its inner surface. The clouds slowly part to reveal a figure, which beckoned to her. She found herself inside the mirror itself. “Where am I?” Divya asked the empty void. In some misty region of my imagination accessed in trance, or is this a realm inhabited by angels, demons, and spirits of the dead?

       Yes, the man had a striking resemblance to her. The same stubborn square chin, laughing eyes and curly unruly hair. “Papa” the word stuck in her throat. She had seen his photographs in a trunk, which belonged to her mother. While hunting for some old sari for a dance in school she had accidentally come across these smiling faces. Shobhna was looking into his face glowing with joy. Divya had secreted the photos into her safe hideout. That was the huge library that Kutty Amma had collected over her lifetime. Now, it remained closed and unused. Sher Bahadur would clean it once in ten days.
The photos were slipped into a huge tome kept at the bottom of a pile of books. Kutty Amma was nearly blind and the dust in the books triggered off her asthmatic attacks. So once the central point of her life, she rarely came here.
    
          He was calling out to her, only she couldn’t hear. She ran, rather flew into his welcoming arms. Yes, it was so comforting to smell tobacco mingled with a strong masculine perfume. For sometime, they both remained absorbed in the intense happiness of having found each other. “Papa let’s play chess,” Divya’s voice held no room for dissent. Chess had been an obsession between Kutty Amma and her. Despite her near blindness, the old woman played with a cunningness that always left Divya outwitted. Then she always sighed and stated, “Ah! I could never win against Shobhna. Only once did I defeat her and she threw the chess pieces to the ground in a fury. The marble pieces broke…” Divya knew that she was clearly a disappointment for her grandmother. Not a patch on her mother. She couldn’t dance to save her life. Born with two left feet. Tall but broad. She just didn’t possess any of the feminine graces that made her mother such an angel.
      
             Her pawns were of crystal glass, cut such that they reflected the colours of the rainbow. Her father’s were made of black opaque glass, mysterious and forbidding. Divya moved her horse. “Papa, did Amma always win,” she asked a trifle jealously. He smiled and shook his head. “No, never. But she always played a challenging game. And she sulked for a long time after losing. It would take me a long time to see her dimpled smile again.” Divya moved her pawn with a lightening speed cutting of her father’s bishop. He looked crestfallen. “Papa why did you never come?” It was a heart rending anguished question of an abandoned child. Divya had threatened the black King with her pawn. He appeared, withdrawn, oppressed. “Kutty Amma held me responsible for Shobhna’s death. She thought I hadn’t given her the proper medical care. She never forgave me. You were an infant, needing a mother more…” “But later when I was grown,” Divya persisted as she quickly surrounded the black King with her crystalline bishop and horse. How helpless he looked, “I tried, all the phone calls unanswered, letters unread. Legal notices to keep off you. I had enough foes whom I had to battle….” Divya looked up sharply, “What enemies, where are they?” He pulled her again to his heart. “You remind me so much of Shobhi. The same instinct to kill and destroy my enemies, imagined or otherwise.” Yes, Papa had called her Amma, Shobhi. The photos had a note at the back written in a bold scrawl ‘Dear Shobhi the light of my life.’
  She jumped off from his lap, “Papa, snakes and ladders? Let’s see who wins!” Some how luck appeared to favour her every move. She quickly climbed tall ladders to inch towards the winning goal. Her father meanwhile was beset with swallowing snakes. He hadn’t made much progress up the board. “Did Amma lose in this as well?” He thought for a while, “No sweetheart, we never played this game.” “O.K. Papa catch”, she threw the huge multicoloured ball at him. He threw it back, higher than she could jump and reach, it rolled away, she ran to grab it, it was always tantalizingly close but never within reach. She had really run a long way, Divya was panting for breath, and she paused and turned around, “Papa, Papa!” There was no one. She was alone. Bereft, cheated painful sobs wracked her chest.
     
               “Yes, doctor, I find her in this tearful state nowadays. Yes, after the initial stunned silence this is better.” The grating voice of Aunt Krishna jerked her back to her present circumstance. She was a distant paternal cousin of her mother. Non-stop talker. And she spoke so fast it was like traveling in a super fast spaceship. It made Divya giddy. Forever telling her how much they were worried about her, Shobhna and KuttyAmma. Her sly teenaged daughter Varsha. She was a younger and thinner version of her mother. Varsha was forever spying on Divya. She would never let any opportunity slip in telling Divya that she had odd parents and grandmother. Only stopping at her maternal grandfather whom Varsha referred to oddly as ‘Panditji’. They had come visiting from Jodhpur and normally Kutty Amma would never let them in. However, she was weak and now needed to think of Divya her twelve year old, precocious granddaughter. Divya living with Kutty Amma who would change into a fire-eating dragon, then all of a sudden into a loving angel had learnt to survive her sudden changes of moods. Kutty Amma’s frailty made the mother-daughter duo show excessive familial concern. “Crocodile tears, whispered Kutty Amma hoarsely in Divya’s ears. Beware.” Somehow Divya couldn’t believe that her grandmother would be gone. She was such a vital presence despite her age and illness.
       
             Yes, intuitively Divya had been repelled by their demonstrative concern for her welfare. Since they were related to her Nanosa Divya had tried to be polite. But it was tough knowing that they were not bothered about his life. Only interested in his income and property. Which he did acquire over a lifetime. The only thing that had been left behind for Shobana, his daughter was his collection of books and journals. Since he had specifically asked them to be delivered to her. Divya knew that they occupied the pride of place in her mother’s private collection of books. The ‘Loquacious Duo’ never very conveniently mentioned his house and other worldly properties.
     As Divya gradually focused on her immediate surroundings, she realized that she had spent the entire morning with her father! It was evening and the mirror appeared like any other except for its size and ornate frame. She was glad that she had discovered an escape from this prying duo. She hugged her secret to herself. Divya gazed at the mirror fondly. Yes she would meet her father again. This time she wouldn’t let him go, she thought resolutely.
      
               Yet another bright sunshiny morning. But Divya felt a weight on her chest bearing her down. She kept the curtains drawn and huddled into her pillow as she heard her aunt’s insistent knocking. She got up with reluctance and opened the door. She had learnt that keeping it shut for longer times would bring in hordes of neighbours, Kalubai (her old maid) and she would have to give longer explanations of her behaviour. She was able to bring on her tears without much effort and ask them to leave her alone after she had consumed the glass of milk brought by her aunt.
      
         Divya stared at the mirror hopefully. Nothing happened. Pensively she stared at the mirror, which looked so innocuous and ordinary. She dragged the tall mirror near it in desperation. All she saw was a tall thin girl anxiously staring back at her. Both the mirrors were kept at an angle of ninety degree. Three images were observed. The girl in the middle was on either side of those edges of the mirrors, which were in contact with each other. As she raised her left hand, the image also raised it’s left hand. In this arrangement of mirrors her image appeared to her as woebegone and lost. Is that me? She could hear Kutty Amma’s laughter, which had no room for self-pity. She could almost hear her giving an explanation of the images. “This happens because two lateral inversions that take place, one after the other, in two subsequent reflections in each mirror. When two mirrors are kept inclined at an angle they can form multiple images. This is because the image formed in one mirror serves as the object for the other mirror. Two mirrors kept at sixty-degree angle, and if you are standing in the space enclosed by the mirrors will you will get five Divya images. If mirrors are placed parallel facing each other, the angle between them is zero. You will see a large number of images of the object placed between them.” “Kutty Amma where are you?” Divya whirled around sure that her grandmother was close by. Sure enough she was there sitting on her favourite rocking chair. She appeared younger stronger. Divya clung to her. “How do I get rid of them?” “ From the next term I had organized for a boarding school in Shimla to take care of your schooling. Dr. Padma knows and will be taking care of it. Kutty Amma continued, I had also left instructions for the house to be given in rent to the college for residential purposes. Your money I have put in trusteeship in the bank. Dr.Padma is one trustee.” Yes, the tall bespectacled woman was an eminent activist lawyer friend of her grandmother’s. All this didn’t make too much sense to her. She knew the mirror was protecting her. Divya just wanted to continue hugging and holding on to her grandmother. But there was urgency in her voice. “Divya you must beware, you are surrounded by enemies.” “Kutty Amma, Kutty Amma what do you mean?” But there was no one there. Divya was holding on to thin air! She turned around and saw a venerable ancient man serenely sitting cross-legged at a distance.
        
         He radiated tranquility, he was smiling tenderly and his eyes twinkled gently underneath his bushy brows. Silently he gave her a cylindrical object, which she recognized as a kaleidoscope. “Kaleidoscope…consists of three plane mirrors inclined at sixty degree to each other. This arrangement is kept in a cylindrical box, which has a few pieces of coloured glasses at the other end. When viewed from the other end beautiful patterns could be seen due to multiple images of glass pieces formed by the mirrors” She could hear Kutty Amma’s ancient voice droning on from a distance as she excitedly viewed all the colourful images produced by a slight shake. Here she put her eye to such happy images of Amma and Papa and herself as a tiny baby. Divya was totally immersed in those brief moments of intense joy. There was Divya a toddler taking her first uncertain steps looking up with such an expression of supreme confidence. Then in the next instant she had toppled over and her face was contorted with grief. Papa rushed to swing her in his arms and kiss away her tears. “Papa, Papa …” Divya cried out. Yet a sinister gray shadow fell on her pictures, they appeared blurred. Divya shook her kaleidoscope to clear up the shadow but it became a menacing black and she couldn’t see any thing! Divya looked up with tearful exasperation maybe this venerable old man could help. “Baba, kya hua?” The ancient one shook his head and tapped the box gently. Yes she could see again. But there were rocks and desert. Scorching sun, a tall-dignified man stood next to a young looking Kutty Amma. Yes they even managed to smile in a watery sort of way. Yes, this must have been her elusive Nanosa. She looked up to see the venerable one smiling at her. She went back to peering into her kaleidoscope. Maybe she would get to see her mother again. Yes almost as if she had wished it her Amma appeared as a college girl on her trip to Jodhpur. And she was sitting beside Divya’s Nanosa. They appeared immersed in a discussion of extreme gravity. She appeared vehement and her father unhappy. Then he took out some parchment and made some calculations. Nanosa looked even graver as he made his pronouncements. Nanosa spoke in a deep resonant voice filled with regret“I had foreseen her tragic death if she married. She was not meant for marriage. She would have been a world renowned scientist had she obeyed me.” Divya was filled with anger, “Did you obey anyone other than your own selfish objectives? Didn’t Amma long for her father? Where were you then?” The old man was taken aback nobody had ever spoken to him like that. “Ah you are more like Kutty Amma. Maybe a little taller and definitely fairer. Not like Shobhana.” Ah, Divya always managed to have inherited all the negative qualities of her ancestors. But this was new. She never thought that she could even remotely resemble her authoritarian grandmother. Somehow she never compared well with her mother. Divya’s heart reached out for her Amma who went searching for her father. Maybe I should have also done that. “No good would have come of it, beta.” The Ancient one droned in her ears. “Why?” Divya’s eyes were flashing fire. At receiving no reply she said, “Ok what do you see for me?” She knew that Nanosa was an eminent astrologer. From the scraps that she had picked up apparently, kings and king makers, politicians of all shades and hues all flocked to him for predictions. He had foreseen his own odd marriage to Kutty Amma as well. He frowned and taking out some ancient looking parchments spent a long time peering in to them. Divya was almost nodding off when he snorted loudly, “Ah! Your life is full of obstacles.” She didn’t need any soothsayers to tell her that. “ But you are spirited, brave and extremely intelligent I see you meeting your goals.” “Nanosa tell me who killed Papa? I am told they are powerful people and nobody can touch them. Will they be brought to book?” There was stillness in the air, as if the all the natural elements waited to hear the momentous judgment. Something stirred, a swirl of dust changed into a violent sand storm. Everything appeared blurred, Divya cried, “Nanosa, tell me I must know…”
* * * *

   
      
         A spirited nineteen-year-old Divya entered her old home and was overpowered by a flood of memories. The smell, the sight and the taste were all pungently familiar. Time had only heightened the images. “Kutty Amma! Kutty Amma, I am home”, Divya called out in delight. All the books and furniture were stored in one room since the house had been put up for rent to students. Now that Divya had become its owner she looked forward to staying here during her vacations. She had finished her third year in the Law Institute in Bangalore. Therefore the house was undergoing renovations so that a portion would continue to be let out for students as advised by Padma Aunty, her guardian and guide. Earlier holidays were spent with Padma Aunty with occasional visits to her old home. Now that she had come into her own inheritance she was loathe giving up her freedom.
       
          Dusk had fallen all the workers had left. She was alone at home except for the stray cat roaming in the garden hopeful for some morsel. Finally the mirror had been unpacked and stared back at her blankly in silence. The moment had finally come. She had been waiting for it for years. The atmosphere was charged with suspense. Yet both were waiting one in anticipation the other with inevitable resignation. Divya older but restless as a colt, she brings another mirror in desperation –two mirrors. More mirrors – more images. This had worked earlier she recalled. In one instance she had a glimpse of a girl disappearing from one of the other mirrors. Tall slender with long hair, that was Amma she had to catch her. She ran and caught her. The tall beautiful woman turned and smilingly held her tightly; showering her with kisses and endearments that had been pent up for so long. “Amma what went wrong?” The tears fell unchecked as silently she pointed to a shadow behind her. The menacing dark shape became clearer and yes it was someone she had seen earlier.
     
       “Why was Papa murdered? Was it just robbery as the police claimed?” Divya asked in a rushed anxiety. Her mother spoke thoughtfully, “ Ranjit although lovable had his weaknesses. He was always dreaming up impossible projects. Some of them did bring him huge profits. He was hopeless with his accounts. His partner who duped him of a huge amount of money betrayed him. When Ranjit threatened police action as well as going to court that he sealed his own fate.” “ So that Lodha uncle killed him? He had come when Kutty Amma died. I disliked him instinctively. Padma Aunty had taken charge and gave as little detail of my life as was possible. I will take revenge. Justice will be done.” Sobs of anger mixed with self-pity wracked her. She felt her mother’s soft embrace, “No my darling that’s not your job. You don’t worry your little head about such issues.” She was being rocked gently in her mother’s arms, a sea of contentment and relief washed over her. Divya nodded off to sleep.
          
                It was the continuous ringing of the doorbell that woke her up. There was her faithful Durga bai standing at the door all alarmed and annoyed, “ bahut late ho gayee. Kya hua?” It was half past ten, there were a knot of labourers who had also reported for work but found the door shut. All of them were relieved when she mumbled something about sleeping rather late as she was reading her book. She heard Durga bai her household help muttering, “yehi hota hai …” meaning that the poor orphaned child had nobody to put the brakes on her life. She had thrust the morning papers in Divya’s hands. Divya rubbed her eyes and stared at the headlines. Yes, a leading industrialist who was a minister, ML Lodha had died in a helicopter crash along with another politician and the pilot! Yes, was it only last night that Amma had told her about nemesis? She stared at the mirror, went down on her knees and prayed. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. At last she was free …


                Written by Chandra Ghosh Jain Ó 4.4.2005 Jodhpur
Words…4,338

Glossary
1. yehi hota hai….this is what happens when…
2. bahut late ho gayee. Kya hua?”…It’s very late. What happened?

 

 

Copyright © 2005 Chandra Ghosh Jain
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