They aren't late and it's the first time in years. James can hear the flute and Mridangam and an ensemble of singers from inside the temple. He takes off his shoes and places his feet on the stone floors—it feels like coming home.
Sirius is next to him, with a slight hop to his step as he swivels around, admiring the vibrant flowers, the fruit trays and the cheerful people in silk clothes. He keeps halting to observe the stone carvings on the pillars, touching them and muttering wow then and now, nodding in appreciation. James shakes his head with a faint smile. It was his first festival with the family after he'd walked out of his own
"Are we breaking the pots this time or playing with the speakers?" Sirius asks when he spots a mic-set.
"I'm not getting into trouble today, Pads," James says, waving hands in dismissal. "We're in a new neighbourhood. I don't want to get thrown like last time."
"No one threw us. We moved out. I say we play it low today, get an idea of how people are here. We start with the fireworks later. What say?"
James nods with a smile. He was content watching Sirius all excited for the festival and the pranks they could pull out and didn't find the need to add anything to the conversation.
"Remus isn't coming here. He'll visit home tomorrow though," Sirius counts on his fingers. "Peter, I'm pretty sure he's forgotten. I'll drag him out of home tomorrow. We should—"
"James!" he hears Mother exclaim and they don't suffer the trouble of finding her in the vast temple. He also knows he's done something terrible from the tone of her voice.
"Vanakkam," he says and his use of Tamizh, their native language, has her eyes softening. Whatever she was about to reprimand him for, he knows she won't be as harsh.
"I don't know how many more times I have to say this to you," she says stepping closer to him and swatting at this collar. "Don't wear black to these festivals, please."
"I'm not, Amma!" says Sirius from behind with a twinkle in his eye. He is wearing a crisp white shirt and veshti. His clever use of Amma has her enveloping him in a hug. James can't help but roll his eyes but feels a sense of endearment looking at them both.
"You're looking handsome, Sirius," Mother says. "My one son that realises the importance of these things."
"I don't have anything that's not black!" James protests.
Sirius snorts.
"Kadavule!" she exclaims, looking at the ceiling of the temple. "Please James."
"Yes, please James," Sirius chides with a mock-stern expression. "Everyone in the temple is giving us looks. You look like you're off to a funeral."
"That too on such an auspicious day," Mother adds, crossing her hands over her chest.
"Very out of place," Sirius points out with a thinking finger on his chin.
James sighs.
Sirius was doing nothing to help the situation, clutching his stomach and laughing. James couldn't think of anything making this situation as funny as he made it to be.
"You know it's white for festivals dear," Mother says placing an arm on his shoulder, a soft look in her eyes. "I wouldn't bother that much but we don't want to offend the others, right?"
James nods.
"Go home now James," says Mother, her tone lilting into a softness he remembers from his childhood videos. "Find your white shirt, or any other colour. And wear that please."
James enjoyed festivals; he absolutely did. He wasn't the kind to look at people's choice of clothing colour and get offended. But he respected the sentiments as much as he loved these celebrations.
"I'm taking all the money the elders give as coolie for this extra-walking," he says, walking towards the main gate again.
"The elders only give money to the loved child James, run along!" Sirius shouts.
Mother hits Sirius softly before putting an arm around his shoulders and pointing to the enormous flowers engraved on the temple ceiling. He'd miss the story she'd narrate but could be back in time before the rituals began if he was quick enough.
He runs to the entrance and as he slips on his shoes, a petite woman smiles at him as she enters the temple. He returns the smile.
He loved everything about these festivals, the lights, the decorations, the dance and music—everything. But it was the people that had his heart brimming with affection for the celebrations. He loved the smiles strangers offered, the little children running around and tripping over stray stones but brushing them off before running again, the happiness and cheer wafting in the air—all of it. He tied his shoelaces around his ankle instead of the customary bow in haste and broke into a sprint back home. He'd be right on time for the celebrations.
"Lily, for the love of God," Father says with exasperation from behind her. Whatever he follows with that sentence, Lily knows she won't listen. "Please tie your hair. My daughter is looking like a ghost. That too, inside a temple."
"Please Appa," Lily says, trying not to roll her eyes. "I'll do it later. Let me be."
"If someone asks if you're my daughter," he says. "Please say no."
She can't help but laugh at that. Everyone knew Lily was Kumaran's daughter from their identical green eyes. It wasn't often you'd spot an Indian with green eyes and Father had been the centre of attention since his childhood in this neighbourhood for the same. After Lily's birth, she'd immediately taken his spot.
"Sure," she says with a snort. "I'm sure everyone will believe that."
"Where's my other daughter?" he asks, feigning annoyance.
"The one that you adopted before me?" Lily asks.
"No, of course, not Petunia," Father says, biting back a grin. He uses the large jute bag in his hand to nudge her slightly in a reprimand he doesn't mean. "Marlene."
Lily uses the enormous plate of flowers she's carrying to do the same in response.
"Marlene is late as always. Emmeline and Shariq are practising somewhere behind the main shrine."
"Off you go then," he says, once they'd placed the items in their places. "Good luck, Kutty."
She gathers her silk skirt and dashes to the pathway leading to the rear of the main shrine. It's a secluded spot they've picked and Lily couldn't be more thankful for the quiet before the storm. As expected, Emmeline is there, lining her eyes with a kajal pencil, while Shariq aids her by holding a mirror in place. Marlene is nowhere to be found and Lily knows not to expect her until a few seconds before their song.
"I can't believe I'm early," Lily says, plopping herself opposite to them. Even if only for a few minutes, she decides she'd like the rest. "Probably for the first time in ages."
"The last time you were early-," Shariq says, not looking away from Emmeline. "-was on your seventh birthday. And even that was because your mum told you the party started at three when it was actually five."
Emmeline grunts.
"Stop making me laugh or I'm going to draw black lines all over my face."
"That would be lovely," Lily comments. "Imagine all the kids you could scare."
"Yeah that's my job," says Emmeline half-opening her mouth, running the pencil over her waterline. "So you all can be nice to the babies and be friends with them."
"Oh come on," says Shariq, hitting her head with the mirror. "You're the one who keeps getting irritated. The kids are great."
"They keep talking!"
"Not very different from our Lily here. You're still friends with her, aren't you?"
Lily throws an apple at him before selecting another and taking a large bite.
"Are we ready with the mic-set, by the way?" Lily asks, remembering the reason for their presence in the temple. "I have no idea how to set those wires up. One of you has to do it."
"Not me," Emmeline supplies. She clicks the pencil close and stuffs it into her makeup bag.
"Marlene's the best with it," Shariq says, putting away the mirror. "I can help but she knows better than me."
Lily takes a final bite from her apple, rubbing her hands together to get rid of the juices and stands.
"Sure Shariq," she says, fixing her rumpled skirt. "We'll all wait for Marly to arrive and then begin the performance tomorrow morning."
They laugh at that and Shariq promises to begin working on it. Lily knows he's going to keep ringing Marlene's phone, abandoning the mic-set. Emmeline accompanies him, while Lily rushes to the front of the main shrine. They'd arranged everything in an open-theatre hall. The instruments, the flower decorations, the mats and chairs for the evening were all in place from yesterday. Lily couldn't have been more relieved by their choice to finish it off the day before. If only Marlene decided to show up.
It was something about Navrathri Golu celebrations and the temple atmosphere that had her springing about, plucking flowers from the aunties that carried them in trays, and tossing them around. She stops in her way to carry a little boy she recognises as Pranav, swings him around before placing him safe onto the ground. He's dressed as Lord Krishna and she assists him in tying the peacock feather within his curly hair. He flashes her a toothy grin and her heart swells with adoration for him. She hops the rest of her way.
Aunt Minerva is with Mother, both dressed in identical golden sarees, arranging dolls over the enormous stairs. Lily tiptoes her way until right behind them. She shushes little Shruthi who jumps and waves at her in greeting. The little girl giggles when she realises what Lily was going to do and chooses to wait with wide eyes and a playful grin.
"Boo!"
The two women shriek and Mother almost drops the doll in her hand and Lily watches as Aunt Minerva fumbles with it before clasping it tight in her hand.
"Lily!" reprimands Mother and Shruthi takes this as a cue to trot over to Lily as though defending her, laughing all the while. "Will you please stop doing that?"
Lily takes the doll that almost fell from Aunt Minerva's hand and sits on the floor. She doesn't need to call for little Shruthi to sit beside her.
"What colour is this?" Lily croons, placing the doll bird on the floor, a reminder of the game they played when Shruthi was a baby. "What colour is this?"
"Red!" Shruthi answers and Lily high-fives her when Aunt Minerva speaks up.
"And I hope you'll be tying your red locks into a braid within the next five minutes Lily."
Just when she was sitting down for a bit. Not that she minded the running and playing around with everyone she saw.
"I wanted to help with arranging the dolls," she says, looking at Aunt Minerva in the eye to let her know she wasn't frivolous about this. "Can I?"
"We're going starting the program in a few minutes Lily," chides Mother, placing the last of the bird dolls in its place. Shruthi places the red bird and claps her hands together in appreciation. "Please tie your hair in a braid. I can't bear seeing my daughter look like a ghost. That too inside a temple."
"Father said the same thing," she mumbles, standing. She flaps the ends of her skirt to fix the creases and steps forward.
"And while you're at it-" Mother adds. "-bring the mud pots with payasam here."
"See," Lily begins, eyeing the sundal kept in a large brass bowl. "I'm eating all of this in return for all this extra labour."
She lifts it in one swift motion and tosses a handful into her mouth.
"Lily!" both the women screech in tune with each other. Shruthi shudders at the sound and looks terrified.
"We were offering those to God!" Mother shouts.
"This girl!" sighs Aunt Minerva before snatching the bowl away. "We'll have to bring a new bowl now."
Lily slides in between them both and taps the frown in their foreheads, Mother first and then Aunt. She gathers another handful and drops it into her mouth. Mother hurries to catch her fist but she's faster and moves away in time.
"I have a dealing with all these gods," she says, swishing her skirt around and walking away from them. "I'm sure they don't mind."
They both share a knowing look and shake heads at Lily. She turns around, making sure to give a smile to Shruthi who giggles in return.
"The mud pots are in the counter opposite to the shoe-stand!" Aunt shouts at her retreating form. Lily waves a hand without turning behind in acknowledgement and skips away.
The pots, as Aunt specified, were at a counter opposite to the shoe-stand. Perfect placement, she mused.
Payasam was her favourite pudding and she had to strain every muscle of her fingers to prevent herself from dipping them in and savouring it. Its aroma played with what semblance of self-control she had. She had already risked a nice scolding in front of everyone by eating the sundal. She didn't want to commit the same mistake twice.
Lily grasps two pots in her left hand and two in the right. It was a little dangerous and she promises not to run on the way back.
"Lily!" a woman greets just when she was deciding her grip on the mud pots. Lily looks up, and it's the shopkeeper of the next counter—bangles and necklaces. "It's been so long since I saw you!"
Lily had never seen her before and chooses to admit it when she hears the introductory music play out loud.
The program was beginning.
Shruthi and her friends were designated the invocation song. Lily and the kids had spent an entire month preparing for this performance and she didn't want to miss watching them.
"So good to see you too Aunty," she says and by the look on the woman's face, she's believed her. "I'll have to go now though! See you again soon!"
The woman waves kindly and Lily beams in response and breaks into a run. She doesn't bother looking around, and that she realises, was a mistake.
She comes face-first with someone's chest. The contents of the pots spill but it's too late for her to do anything by the time her brain catches up with the action. In front of her is someone in a soaking white shirt with almonds and saffron strands sticking to it.
Her nose hurt from hitting whoever and she strokes it with her free hand.
Oh, the pots.
There it lay on the ground, shattered into far too many pieces than she could count.
She raises a threatening finger to jab at the person in front of her with a wave of anger she hasn't felt in a long time. He does the same.
"You broke my pots!" she accuses him, prodding her index finger mid-air.
"And you ruined my shirt!" he counters, his tallness providing him the advantage of towering over her.
She's just about to retort when she hears the static of the speakers and she forgets what she was about to say.
"Kadavule!" she exclaims, looking at the sky.
"I'm just going to go," she says. Just before moving her feet, she makes the mistake of looking at him and she's thrown off by the way he's looking at her. He looks as though she'd slapped him. There was no other way to discern it other than just looking. She wonders if she'd been too rude, but then again, he was too. An apology sits at the tip of her tongue and she's about to get it out when the static of the speaker booms again. She speeds back into the temple without turning back.
The people are all sitting on the floor atop mats lined for them, some elders are on chairs. Lily has to dodge her way through making sure she doesn't stamp on someone. She almost falls several times but the kind hands of the audience help her through. She thanks them all and it feels like an eternity before she's next to Shariq and Marlene.
"Did you run all the way here?" Marlene asks, plugging some wires into a device.
"Yeah," she says, not bothering to hide her breathlessness. Her mind wanders back to the ruined white shirt and is guilt-ridden. There was something about the way he looked at her that made it hard for her to shake it off.
"Hello?" Marlene calls. "Are you okay, you look—"
"Yes," she answers, shaking her head. "Yes, I am. I thought you were beginning without me."
"We were about to," Shariq says, untangling some wires and she moves forward to help. "We did something wrong. Looks like the speakers are in your favour today."
Lily untangles the wires while he fixes the microphones. He thanks her, plugs them in and does a quick mic check.
"We're almost done," Marlene says. " Lily, you can get the kids onto the stage. Do your thing girl!"
"I don't even feel like scolding you for being late," Lily says, hugging her.
Shruthi and her friends are dedicated performers, waiting near the stage for someone to order them about. Lily greets them, running them through the sequence of their performance.
Emmeline walks onto the stage right in time and they all point thumbs-ups at each other. Her voice booms through the speakers as she welcomes the audience and establishes a quick rapport with them. She cracks a few well-thought-out jokes and everyone is laughing at them—children and elders alike. She proceeds to introduce the song they're going to perform with the hype it deserved. Lily catches Aunt Minerva's eye from the audience who motions with her hand, pointing at her hair.
Lily slams her forehead and rushes her hair into a loose braid by the side. She pulls a satin ribbon from the stage decorations and ties it to keep the braid in place with a quick bow.
"Good luck, you all!" Lily whispers to the kids and helps them onto the stage. They walk in with heads held high and take their positions with a grace Lily admires with all her heart. Emmeline helps from the stage and hops off after helping Pranav with his Mridangam. A quick coordination between Lily and Marlene later the background music starts.
Shruthi sings, her mouth at an ideal distance from the mic and Lily remembers all those rehearsals in which she'd had trouble with it, and feels a sense of pride surge through her. Pranav is still in his Krishna attire, it has absolutely nothing to do with the song but he had insisted and no rules were against it. He played the Mridangam with ease, as though he was tapping away at one of his video games. Kuyili and the five girls danced to the song, perfect in their formations and Lily wonders if she was even half as good as they were when she was younger.
"They're so much better than us, aren't they?" she says in a whisper to Emmeline.
"Even their earrings dance better than I did when their age," she whispers back.
From the other end of the stage, Shariq points a thumbs-up in her direction and Lily bows in response. She's watched this performance several times over the last month and yet, it feels like she's watching these kids dance and sing for the first time. Moments later, the performance is over and the crowd breaks into applause. Lily watches the happiness and the excitement in the little faces on the stage as they shyly thank everyone with a bow. There's one end of the crowd from where they hear a rapturous applause, more than expected. Several heads turn at the sound, including her own.
Her heart skips a beat when she sees him. She recognises him not from his shirt because he has brushed off the almonds and saffron. It's his hair. He isn't looking at her though and is genuinely applauding the little children on stage. He looks so proud and she wonders if any one of them were his relatives. She can discern another form next to him but her eyes don't waver. He quietens his applause and says something to the person next to him before moving his eyes around the hall. Emmeline mentions something but it's all lost to her when his eyes meet hers.
For the second time that evening, her traitorous heart skips a beat and she wishes it didn't.