The Yellow Saree
The Yellow Saree
I am Kavita, studying 5th standard in a missionary school. I woke up to Amma shouting at Parvathi – our maid, internally groaning, I stared at the wall clock which said that I was 15 minutes late than my usual wake up time. I mentally recollected my time table and there was nothing exciting to start the day. I started daydreaming about how I would save my teacher and the rest of the class if a tiger entered my class, noticing that Amma entered the room, I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. Amma shook me, I acted naïve and rushed to the washroom. She handed me the toothbrush with paste on it and her words drowned as I continued my heroic adventure in my world.
I came out of the room in 30 mins and I saw Amma. She was in a beautiful yellow saree which I instantly fell in love with. Bright yellow saree with red dots all over. It was exquisite and Amma looked elegant in it. I made a mental note that when I become a senior, I shall wear this saree for Teachers day. My mom held my upper arm and literally dragged me to the dining table, feeding me morsels of Upma, another boring breakfast. I wanted to daydream about how boring Upma was too, but Amma rushed me. Dad gave me 20 rupees and that was the only good thing that has happened so far. I started to dream about what all I could buy in the lunch break.
School was never exciting. Anna was 2 years older than me. His class was on the 3rd floor while mine was on the ground floor. I often spend my 15 minutes recess visiting him for a pen. The pen is just an excuse, I wanted to brag that I could go to the senior class. After 2 classes, we finally got our lunch break. I quickly had my lunch on the school ground and ran to my classroom to get the 20 rupees which I couldn’t find.
I searched the entire bag for it. I opened each book and checked between papers, in my compass box, in my pencil box in my skirt pocket. I firmly remember my father handing me a 20 rupee note, and me opening my Camlin compass box with my teeth and tucking the note under the 5-inch scale. Dejected, I walked out of the class only to notice students flashing their ice golas, cut mango pieces with salt and chili powder, guava cut into flowers or into four pieces with chili and salt, soaked gooseberries, mango jellies, palm jellies, peppermint or something or the other.
Cursing myself for being so reckless, I walked back to class only to find a huge commotion and our class teacher was also present. I was confused as the long bell still had 10 more minutes. When I slowly entered the class, I saw Karteeka crying vehemently. Oh man, was there a tiger? Did I miss saving the class? I was confused, but when I went a little closer, I saw money, 10 and 20 rupee notes on the teachers’ desk, and Avanthika, the head of the bullies gang, was all CID Pradhyuman. I could comprehend that Kartheeka stole money from our bags in our absence. I was dumbfounded. God, how can she do it? Why did she do it? I wish I could pull her hair and slap her face. I was shaking with rage. I mentally told myself that I should not tag her along to the seniors class nor to the staffroom for disbursing chocolates for my birthday. Finally, our teacher assured us that we would get our money back and the rest of the periods went sluggish.
After school, I ran back home to narrate everything to Amma, not finding her anywhere, I idled in the living room wondering where she was when I saw a shining scissors. Scissors are one thing I was never allowed to touch. Amma and Daddy always kept it away from me. And now I see it and I can hear it calling me. I waited until Anna changed and left to play cricket with the neighbors. As he left, I took the scissors in my hands. It was scintillating. I opened and closed it twice and it felt so good. All I need now is a cloth to cut. I searched the house I could not get one, and when I entered the bedroom, I saw the yellow saree which mom draped in the morning, neatly folded. I did not hesitate, I tried the scissors on the saree, just a small cut, it glided , I pressed a little harder and the fabric felt like butter.
I heard Parvathi`s voice and panicked, I ran and kept the scissors from where I picked them up from. In a bat of the eye, Amma came back. She was on her phone in the balcony of the same room where I tried the scissors. My heart skipped a beat, but I kept numb and no one got the wind of what I did. A week later, Amma took the yellow saree out to show it to one of our neighbors. I was watching T.V when Amma was aghast about the slash she discovered. I kept still and continued to watch the television. When Amma inquired if I knew something about it, then I realized the damage I did, I cut the folded saree, which means, I cut several layers of the yellow saree. It felt giddy but I acted innocent and she let me go. I silently witnessed how heartbroken both ladies were. But I was determined to continue to lie and keep the story going. I kept the same innocent story going even when my father asked if I knew something.
Dinner was silent, with very limited conversation. Post dinner, Daddy took Anna to the next room and he was given a mobile to play his favorite video game. Amma escorted me to the bedroom. She made me comfortable and asked me once again if I knew anything about the yellow saree. When I said no, she knelt down, to my eye level and told me that I needed to understand that “Theft is the one unforgivable sin, the one common denominator of all sins. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing. ” And if I was telling a lie about the yellow saree, then I was stealing the right of my mother to know the truth, which is the most wretched thing, and then, she assured me that it is OK to commit a mistake, but when you accept it, you to open a beautiful channel to communicate with the other person and when you use it properly, it bonds you.
A mistake is always a chance to bond with people. All you need to do is, introspect then, accept, apologize and assure a better tomorrow. She told me that she was not in a hurry and she did not blame me. If I did not cut the yellow saree, she would be the happiest person, but she asked me to come back to her if I had anything to discuss, and with that, she tucked me to bed. That night I could not sleep. I was thinking about Karteeka. How disgusted, repelled and nauseated I was with her. Was I in her place now? I became restless. I was awake for a long time that night. I held on to Amma’s saree while I was awake and never knew when I slipped into sleep.
I woke up to Amma shouting at the paperboy, I opened one eye and saw Anna and Daddy fast asleep. I crawled out of the bed and walked into the living room. As it was a Sunday, Amma was having her “me” time with a cup of coffee. She looked at me with a smile and stretched her arm, signaling for a hug and I sat on her lap and hid my face in her neck. I wanted to accept, apologize and assure, but before I could say anything, Amma said “it’s OK, I won’t tell Daddy”
Inspired by a quote
“Theft is the one unforgivable sin, the one common denominator of all sins. When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing.”
― Khaled Hosseini, The KiteRunner
Cute story with a nice moral. I liked the way the mother handled her child!