I ran away from the marriage function we were supposed to attend into the streets of Reddiarpatti. The houses were glued to one another- no compound walls and front yards and no trees. All the front doors ajar, tempting you to go find the house that is erupting with the smell of karuvattu kulambu. In one of those houses sat a lady with the parrot on her shoulders and a cholavu on her lap, rolling beedis. She gave a wide smile that one can’t easily give away to a stranger. I don’t think I smiled back. I was pissed with the orange frock I wore. It was pricking everywhere.
I sat with her. She hasn’t made lunch yet. Perhaps, the piercing karuvattu kulambu smell is coming from the next house. “Ponnu, paer enna?” She asks. “Kiruba”. My concentration was slowly drifting away from the smells to the parrot that sat on her shoulder, tilting its neck now and then, doing some Prabhu Deva type moves.
“Doesn’t fly away?” I ask. She shakes her head sideways and the parrot imitates her. We talked about the parrot for a long time. By now, I know where it sleeps, how it came to her, what it eats and what it likes to watch on TV. All this while, her dry-brown fingers ignore me and continue to roll beedis with a rhythm that I wasn’t familiar with.
We left with the parrot. She sits on my shoulders with its claws always ready to drill holes into my skin. She likes guavas and coriander stems. Our calling bell was the first sound she imitated. My name, the second. She hates my uncle but I didn’t ask her to. We called her ‘Jo’. She calls out her name, when she smells fruits. She flew away one day with the other parrots that used to come and call her every day.
I wonder what is the name of the woman who wore purple flowers. What is the name of the woman who gives away long smiles and talking parrots?
Kirukalss 