Choosing (a) for an answer
When the eyes of an eighty-year-old stare at you from the face of a ten-year-old, would you

(a) Stare back?
(b) Pretend not to notice?
(c) Walk away?

Marshi wanted to choose (c), or even (b). After all, she had not particularly wanted to come with her colleagues at the advertising firm she worked for, when they had collected aid for the flood victims and made arrangements to distribute them in Deniyaya. She had come because her friends had forced her to.

Now she stood there, staring into the two deep black pools on the face of the little girl in front of her, not knowing what to do. She felt as though the roles had been reversed. She was the child. Ten-year-old Nilakshi was the adult.

As if sensing her unease, Nilakshi moved towards Marshi and placed a reassuring hand on Marshi’s arm. Then, she looked up and stared once again into Marshi’s face. Marshi went down on her knees to reach Nilakshi’s height. She took Nilakshi’s hands into hers and placed on them the bag of sweets and stationary she had brought with her. “I’m sorry,” Marshi kept muttering softly under her breath. “I’m sorry.”

Nilakshi peeped at the contents in the bag and closed it without showing any interest. “Don’t you like chocolates?” Marshi asked the little girl, wanting her to grin and say yes. But Nilakshi still stared at her with the eyes of an eighty-year old. Marshi realized that even if she were to offer Nilakshi all the chocolates in the world, she would still not be able to make her smile. Marshi recalled the conversation she had had with Nilakshi’s aunt that morning. Padma, herself a victim of the floods, had described how the waters had swallowed Nilakshi’s entire family. Nilakshi was alive because she had not been at home. She had come to Padma’s house on an errand, and so, had survived.

Marshi gave up trying to make Nilakshi smile and walked into the schoolroom where the flood victims had spent the night. Now, at eleven in the morning the room was almost empty. She began to make her way to the bench at the far corner of the schoolroom. But this was obviously not her lucky day. She had not taken more than a few steps before her leg tangled over something on the floor, making her fall to the ground with a thud. When she turned her head she realized she had tripped over the ankle of someone who had been fast asleep on a mat on the floor. He looked furious to be woken up so suddenly. Marshi hurried away from him, not wanting to further annoy him.

Kanishke was furious to have his sleep disturbed so suddenly. He had had no sleep last night and now, in the middle of the morning, found it difficult to keep awake. This was his second day on the floor of the schoolroom in Deniyaya as a flood victim. That was the label the “charity” people who rushed from all over the country with food and clothes had put on him. But he had lost nothing. He had all his possessions - his clothes, his phone and his Walkman - in the travelling bag he now used as a pillow. It had taken only a few minutes to pack and leave his official quarters when word got around that the private bank he worked for was under five feet of water.

Kanishke had just managed to call his mother before the batteries in his mobile phone went dead. He had told her that he was safe at the school and that he would come home the moment the roads were cleared.

“Watch out!” Kanishke had shouted in irritation when a sharp pain seized his left leg. He had raised himself on his elbows to see that a girl had tripped over his ankle and fallen. She wore deck shoes, denim pants and a cotton shirt. He groaned to himself when he realized she was yet another philanthropist from Colombo, come to give aid to the flood victims. “Sorry, I’m very sorry,” she said as she got to her feet. Kanishke lay back on his mat and ignored her completely. He disliked these ‘do-good’ people who had been arriving at the school from yesterday with dry-rations and clothes they no longer wanted to wear. There were enough old shirts and saris, pieces of soap and toothpaste to last till next year’s floods, thought Kanishke, before he fell asleep once more.

Marshi sat on the low bench and stared at her surroundings. Most of the women and children were outside, on the playground. The men had gone back to assess the damages in the areas where the water had receded. Her eyes fell on the sleeping figure she had tripped over on her way to the bench. She felt as though she had seen him somewhere before. Was he a friend of her brother? Was he someone who had been in her CIMA classes? Then she realized why he looked familiar.

He looked like a character in the short stories she read about in the Sunday papers. He was tall, had fair skin, a Hugh Grant hair cut, and there was a small pair of gold-rimmed spectacles lying on the mat beside him. Marshi found it hard to believe that this could be true. The characters she read about in the stories really did exist! She guessed he would be working in a bank, that he came from a loving family, that he didn’t smoke and had only an occasional bottle of beer. She could even make a correct guess about his name. She was sure it would be a name with the ‘sh’ sound to it. And she knew he would have a girl friend, the perfect partner for him, loved by his parents almost as if she were their own daughter.

Fearing the young man might wake up and find her gazing at him, she turned her head and stared sadly at the playground. The rain had stopped, but the day was dark and gloomy. Marshi felt sad about Nilakshi. She thought she saw in Nilakshi a child grown too old too soon.

Half an hour later when Kanishke woke the first person he saw was the girl who had tripped over him, seated on the bench staring out at the playground. He got up and folded his mat. He was hungry. He wondered if the girl could give him something to eat. He went and stood besides her.

Marshi raised her head and for the second time that day, found herself gazing into two dark black pools. Once again she began to wonder what she should do (a) stare back (b) pretend not to see? (c) walk away? Then she checked herself. She was reading too many quiz pages in the newspapers. She was shocked to realize she had begun to arrange her life too in the way the quizzes went. If she was not careful she would soon be giving herself marks too. Ten for choosing (a) five for (b) etc.

Kanishke noticed the tears in Marshi’s eyes when she looked up at him, but decided to ignore them for the time being. First he wanted to find something to eat. He ran his fingers over his unshaven cheeks and said, “I’m awfully hungry. Could you give me something to eat?” “I’m sorry we have distributed all the stuff we have brought,” said Marshi. “But I have some cream crackers my mother insisted that I take with me in the morning because I had no time for breakfast.” Kanishke took the biscuits into his hands and sat beside her.

“Why the tears?” he asked her in a friendly voice as he opened the packet of biscuits.
Marshi wiped her cheeks quickly with her hands and gave a wry smile. “Something got into my eyes.”

“I don’t believe that. Is it because I shouted at you for tripping over my feet?” “Of course not. Who would cry over a thing like that?’ “I thought girls always cried over things like that.” “I’m not a girl,” said Marshi with indignation.

Kanishke took a quick look at the man’s shirt and denim pants Marshi was wearing. “You are not dressed like a girl, but unless something’s wrong with my eyes, I would have sworn you were a girl.”

Marshi lost her temper. She thought he was being the typical male chauvinist. “Take the biscuits and go sit somewhere else. Leave me alone. What are you doing here anyway? You don’t look like someone who has been displaced by the floods.”

Kanishke opened his palms out in protest. “Calm down. Calm down. You are right. I’m not a flood victim in the real sense of the word. I haven’t lost my family or my property. Only my lodgings. I work at the bank. My home is in Galle.” Then he gathered the remaining biscuits in the packet and started to get on to his feet. Marshi regretted her words. She wanted him to stay.

“Don’t go. I didn’t mean what I said,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean what I said, either. I mean I’m not a male chauvinist. But you are not a man. And you look too young to be called a woman... so what else could I have called you?”

“Call me Marshi.”
“I’m Kanishke.”
Marshi couldn’t help smiling when she heard his name. Her guesses were right. He had a name with the ‘sh’ sound to it, and he had said he worked in a bank. She was sure he had a lovely girlfriend too. “That’s more like it. You are smiling.”

The look of sorrow returned to Marshi’s face. She remembered Nilakshi. She searched the playground to see if she could find her. But the little girl was not there. “What’s wrong?” Kanishke asked with a concerned look on his face. “Tell me about whatever it is that’s bothering you. It helps when you tell someone.

” When Marshi remained silent he said, “I’m a good listener. And I have two broad shoulders for you to lean on.” Surely you should be saying that to your girl friend, thought Marshi, but decided to tell him about her encounter with Nilakshi that morning. She tried to explain how helpless she had felt when none of the sweets or coloured pencils could bring a smile to Nilakshi’s face. Kanishke stared at the ground as he listened to Marshi. When she stopped, he said in a quiet voice. “Until yesterday when they were still living, Nilakshi’s parents would have given her the things you gave her, out of love. Today total strangers are giving her the same things out of pity. It always hurts to be pitied.”

Marshi realized Kanishke was right. No one could return the love Nilakshi’s parents had felt for her. Marshi hoped Nilakshi would recover, that time would heal the hurt, and that she would return to her normal self soon. As if voicing her thoughts Kanishke said, “Nilakshi will be normal soon. Remember, nothing lasts forever. The waters will go down. Nilakshi will be happy living with her aunt Padma. Nothing, not even sorrow, lasts forever.”

Pradeepa, one of Marshi’s colleagues, shouted from the playground. “Marshi, we are about to leave.” Kanishke walked to the van with Marshi. He read aloud the logo and the address of her office, which were painted on the side door of the van, as if he were committing it to memory. Before she got into the van, Marshi picked a red araliya which had fallen from a tree nearby. She gave it to Kanishke saying “Give this to your girl-friend.” Kanishke looked puzzled for a minute, but took it into his hands and without a word, placed it inside his shirt-pocket. He stood staring at the van, deep in thought, as it left the school grounds.

“Who was that?” Pradeepa asked Marshi. “Someone I’d just met, and will probably never meet again,” said Marshi trying to sound as if she didn’t care. Pradeepa raised her eyes towards the roof and said “You and your dramatic remarks.” Then she asked Marshi, “I’m so hungry, have you got anything to eat?” “No, he ate all the cream crackers.” “Moron,” said Pradeepa shaking her fist at an imaginary figure. “I’m glad you won’t have anything to do with him again.”

A week later, Marshi received two letters. Padma had sent one. Inside the envelope Marshi found a child’s drawing of a house and a smiling matchstick figure of a girl. Marshi realized Nilakshi had used the coloured pencils she had given her to draw the picture. The smile on the face of the little girl Nilakshi had drawn made Marshi feel immensely happy.

She opened the other envelope and stared in disbelief when a red araliya fell on to her desk. The note inside simply had his name on it. She remembered her parting words to him and the serious look on his face when he had placed the flower in his pocket. Could it be that Marshi had been right in all the things she had guessed about him, except for one? Marshi traced a finger over the petals of the red flower and smiled to herself.
This world is absolutely marvellous, thought Marshi. She was glad she had chosen (a) when twice she had had two pairs of black eyes gazing at her, on that unforgettable day in Deniyaya.

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