The Pond and my Imagination...

My latest thrill is sitting by the pond at the back of the guest house and reading. Yesterday I sat there in the afternoon, as the sun was shifting in the sky, getting ready to set. I was distracted by the ducks that glided across the water, the hundreds of dragon flies that dipped quickly in the water leaving tiny circular ripples that went out and the little turtles that stuck up their heads. The thousands of giant gold fishes converged crazily whenever they saw a shadow near the water, expecting food. Jane (my Australian friend) said when the monsoon rains come and the pond overflows, fishes are everywhere! If that isn’t the grossest thing ever…

I started to feel like I was in a Jane Austen novel. I looked out at the branches of the trees that surrounding the pond, they were touching the water. There was nothing there to remind me that I was in the 21st century…well, beside my blackberry lying on the bench next to me. The little barefooted girls dressed in their navy blue overalls with their ribbons in their hair were just coming from school. They had seen me before, perhaps. They are from the orphanage I reckoned. They looked at me, giggling and whispering to each other as they walked. One brave girl waved and the others followed suit. I waved back with a huge smile. I was Emma for the moment. The girls who were around my age from the hostel would pass me and look down as if pretending not to notice me. They reinforced my daydream. Like Emma, I am free. The thought of marriage is far from my mind, but that is all they think about. Girls ask me all the time “Are you married? Why are you single?”

I spotted him. “Oh crap!” I thought to myself. I really didn’t want to be sitting by the pond and have him come over to talk to me. He was coming with a skip in his step and a smile on his face. “hello madam” he said, still steps away from my bench. “How is your friend?” The last time he saw me he asked me the same thing and I told him Evan had left and is back in California. Suddenly, there was a female Tamil voice from the back of me and he said “sorry madam, one, one minute” in an awkward tone. I quickly continued to ignore my book and went back into my day dream. Only this time I was Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice…he was so Mr. Knightley! Very awkward, very random. He didn’t come back. I imagined that the woman, whoever she was, told him that he need not be talking to me because that might jeopardize his chances of getting a proposal. The night before, at dinner, Clarin, whose mother just died from cancer a couple weeks ago, told me that she has to wait until she’s married to go get a mammogram because word might get out if she goes now and her potential proposal will be jeopardized. No man wants to marry a potentially cancer stricken woman, unless she ups the dowry of course.

I went back to reading my book, forgetting I was a character in Jane Austen's novels. A long time passed and the sun was right ahead of me, so the tree I sat under no longer provided shade. I heard a voice approaching “madam, did you change your number?” The last time I had seen him he asked for my number and I gave it to him. I was with Jane, who gave me a look and scurried off as if wanting to give me privacy. That same night he had called me to ask me to come to church, I declined. He stood up right in front of me, right next to the blazing sun, so I could not watch him. He claimed that whenever he calls me I never answer. I was Emma now – uninterested and unimpressed. I pointed at my phone on the bench next to me and said “call it”. He did and it rang…that ended his short-lived tantrum. He continued to speak “you call me, rickshaw I drive after…” and I finished “after 5:30, I remember”.

I was looking at the fish in the pond and Mr. Knightley followed my gaze “madam? You want? 150. You get big one” and he held out his hand, gesturing from his wrist to his elbow. I said “for what?!” I knew he was going to say to eat, and he certainly did. I blurted “they are goldfish! They are pets”. He said “No, madam” smiling. Then the thought flew into my head “is this what the international guest house cooks??” At the urging of Jane(my Australian friend), I have had tastes of the fish at dinner before. He wasn’t sure, and asked to describe the fish I ate, prolonging my horror. When I said the fish were small and fried in red chilly powder to perhaps disguise their gold skin, he assured me that this wasn’t the case because they only eat the big gold fish. “Okay, Madam I have to go back to work…” he said reluctantly, as if I was keeping him.

Minutes later, he was at the end of the pond a little way from with a bucket, I saw him smile without looking at me and I had him figured out – he wanted attention. His father is the gardener, so he was fetching water for the plants I realized. Emma wouldn’t care either way...neither did I. I love the pond; I get to feel like I’m in another place in another time…