Terrace

Written by Rakhi Pande

This was her second week in Siolim as a resident, in her aesthetically pleasing, slightly bohemian, rented two bedroom flat. The flat itself gave very tropical vibes with a host of plants – both real and artificial, enhancing the outdoorsy look. Though her building was part of a bigger residential complex, it was miraculously not blocked by views of other buildings. Instead, the windows at both ends of the flat faced east and west, providing stunning views of the morning sky change colour as the sun rose over the dense grove of coconut palms and as if that were not already enough to drive up the rent, a peek of the setting sun, from the opposite end. No less than three spacious balconies with French doors offered an unobstructed view of the quaint sloped roof homes of the ‘locals’, the villagers, bordered by paddy fields beyond.

Except for one house in their midst. From her bedroom balcony that faced east, Anika noticed the one slightly better and bigger home, built with concrete walls and a concrete flat roof, functioning as its terrace. It was not directly opposite but slightly to the right so that she could only see it only from the window or the balcony.

Every morning she would look out in hope of spotting the big fawn dog – the unknown ubiquitous mixed breed — on the terrace. She was always entertained by his movements. He would strut about for a bit, peering over the edge while woofing his alpha dominion over other dogs and cats he spotted. At other times, thinking himself unobserved, he would lie down flat on his back, utterly vulnerable with his legs up in the air, squirming about, tongue lolling, making her laugh.

She had seen the other residents occasionally: two teenage girls who would climb and sit together leaning against the water drum conversing in the evenings as the sky deepened it hues, probably out of the hearing distance of the lady who would sit by herself at the far end staring at the horizon. Anika imagined that this might have been her only place of escape from the endless chores and hubbub of daily life. At other times, a much younger boy of about five followed a slightly older girl, probably his sister (or cousin) of about seven. As she sat to read and do her homework, he would entertain himself skipping about the flat terrace or lolling about on a mattress placed there. After dark, however, the terrace was the domain of the men of the household. Though there were no lights on the roof, the occasional clink told Anika that feni or urak had been smuggled upstairs.

Local families here tended to be ‘joint’ ones with aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins included in the same household. Daily, a slim, capable lady would briskly hang clothes to dry on strings stretched out from stakes. So many clothes every day! The only times Anika didn’t spot too many visitors to the terrace was on extremely sunny days when cotton sheets would be spread out with a brick at each end. They would dry fish on the sheet. She could never identify which of them it was — kokum, shrimp, jambul — from the plethora of spices, fruit and and fish Goans loved to sun dry.

She would have loved procuring some of it straight from them but was still conscious of being the non Goan outsider. She had already experienced all types of opinions. Those who were hypocritical and contradictory – people who welcomed European expats but looked down upon Indians from other states. Those who lamented the growing population due to migration – yet, uncomplainingly, raked in profits from the meteoric growth of the square foot rate. She had also experienced the warmth and hospitality of the majority of the Goans who would go out of their way to help you settle in and make you feel like family.

*

The lady who sat by herself was back today sitting as usual at the very edge. She had the terrace to herself. Something about her intrigued Anika, who realised she had been staring at her instead of being at work on her laptop for the past few minutes. Was it because she was the most frequent visitor? She spent a lot of time staring out over the other end. Or was it because even if others were there, they barely acknowledged her, not even glancing in her direction, or exchanging a friendly word. Likewise, she too ignored them for most part. The only one who paid her any attention was the small boy, too innocent and young to pay heed to family politics, who would wave and go running towards her when he saw her. She seemed to be the family outcast yet was outwardly unperturbed, never getting confrontational, at least on the terrace, from what Anika could observe.

On this day, she was back, presumably ruminating about life. Hailing from a nuclear family herself, Anika mused over the conveniences that a joint family surely had, from shared expenses and chores, to child supervision and upbringing. As she looked at the lady on the terrace, she also thought about the difficulties that living in a large group in a confined space probably entailed, with no privacy, varying opinions and multiple imagined slights.

Today, she seemed restless as she was strolling on the terrace. Anika stepped out onto the balcony to get a closer look. The south-west corner of the terrace with the water drums was the closest point to her balcony. The lady was whiling away time by walking along the perimeter of the terrace. As she wandered closer to the south-west corner, Anika finally got a good look at her.

Her personality was apparent even from this distance, from the way she held her body upright to the confident yet feminine walk. She was neither slim nor thickset but somewhere in between. There was a certain sophistication to her gait. Anika watched as she turned the corner and continued her solitary stroll around the edge of the terrace.

*

The sound of loud arguments in male and female voices interrupted her work the next morning – the family members had reached the downward curve in the sine wave of highs and lows of joint family existence. Adding to the cacophony was a girl’s full-throated wail. Perhaps a fall, burn or injury, with the elders blaming each other for the oversight? 

The staircase that the family used to ascend was on the far east side and never visible to Anika. She now saw a small head make an appearance at the flat edge followed by the body of the boy who had climbed up unobserved. His sister as the designated minder was the injured one then. He looked for the assortment of toys that always lay in a heap in one corner of the terrace. Soon he was revving the toy car and following it about as it raced forward a few feet. Anika was a little concerned and stepped out to the balcony. What if the child wandered too close to the edge? The roof edge was unprotected by any railing or boundary wall. She stood undecided and hoped that someone else would arrive soon. That’s when she saw the lady walk towards the boy. Anika sighed in relief. She had probably been sitting, leaning against the other side of the water tanker, that’s why she hadn’t spotted her. The boy would point the car in her direction and she would then send the car revving back to him. The game continued until she heard shouts and the mother climbed halfway up the stairs gesturing at them to come down. The lady and the boy complied. Anika noticed that as usual she didn’t convey her gratitude either by gesture or a word to the lady who had kept a watchful eye over him. She wondered what had caused the breach in their relations and felt the lady deserved at least some acknowledgement. Maybe she sensed her empathy  because suddenly she turned and looked directly at Anika. Anika felt a voyeuristic warmth flush her ears and stepped back inside her bedroom.

*

Anika noticed over the next few days that the lady had started sitting closer to the south-west edge, closest to her balcony. She would occasionally glance towards Anika. Her eyes were dark, so dark that you couldn’t distinguish the iris from the pupil. Anika felt a little sorry for her unfortunate circumstances. The only time she noticed her smile was on the rare occasions the boy wandered onto the terrace alone. With nobody to stop him from interacting with her, he would sit beside her presumably listening to stories or they would chase each other.

Anika wondered why she didn’t leave this house – perhaps she had no independent income. Anika had been doing the cleaning herself in her apartment but now she took a decision.

*

Anika stood at the gate of the concrete house. One of the teenage girls came to the gate. Anika did not know Konkani, the local language, but it had similarities to Marathi and with that including a mix of Hindi and basic English, conveyed that she was looking for a daily help to sweep and mop the floors, do the dishes and some light dusting. Would anyone from this household be interested? “Okay! I tell to my mother, give me house number,” she replied. As she wrote down the apartment number behind a schoolbook she had got from inside, Anika tried to find a diplomatic way to say that the sturdy looking lady on the terrace who played with her younger brother would be better for this kind of a job instead of anyone else from the household. However, as the girl looked at her uncomprehendingly, she realised that this was a task beyond her communicative abilities and left.

*

It was not quite dusk when her doorbell rang. The younger, slimmer lady Anika had seen so many times on the terrace, stood at her doorstep. Julie spoke English quite well and understood it even better. Anika took her on a brief tour of the flat stopping at the balcony that overlooked her house. “I really enjoy your dog’s antics early in the morning!” she said, to break the ice. Julie laughed.

Anika noticed that the boy had found his way onto the roof again and was lying on his stomach with his head in his hands, absorbed in the story the lady was no doubt telling him. She sat cross legged in front of him, using gestures and making faces while telling the story, hugely entertaining him. Julie noticed them and her face changed to a scowl.

Anika gestured towards them, “What about her? Doesn’t she need a job? I have seen her on the terrace by herself so many times. She doesn’t seem to be as busy as you are — that’s why I approached your house to look for help.”

“Who? Her? Sheela?” Julie looked thunderous. “Look at her! Wasting time, always sitting on the terrace!”

Anika’s face looked a question. “Well, she seems to look after the boy so well.”

Julie turned towards her – the scowl changing to a confused look. “Her boy? How long have you stayed here?”

 “Oh, this is my just my fifth week.” And now, leaping to her defence, Anika continued, “I’ll tell you something you don’t know, that boy has come to the terrace so many times on his own and if it were not for Sheela’s presence, God knows what accident might have happened! Why do you all treat her so badly? Look, even now only she is there with him on the terrace, no one else is supervising him!”

I knew I had probably crossed a line with this as it was none of my business to comment on their affairs.

Julie was struck dumb by my outburst, but her eyes changed. The anger was fading. “Boy?” she repeated. “She lost her five-year-old son three months ago. He drowned in the well behind the house.”

The anger had faded completely from Julie’s eyes to be replaced with fear.  “Look at her — she keeps playacting like she’s doing now, as if she is talking to him and can see him, scaring the children — that’s why we argue. She spends all her time sitting on the terrace from where she can watch the well.”

Anika turned back to the terrace. Sheela had noticed them watching her and walked closer. She looked up at Anika with an appeal in her liquid black eyes, almost as if to say, “You can see him too, can’t you?”

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Rakhi Pande, an experienced education professional, transitioned from a brand management career to become an award-winning teacher and school leader. An avid reader, she tries to write whenever time permits.www.linkedin.com/in/rakhi-pande

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