And so, Kalpana began that slow amble up to the idol. It was not her fault that she bled for so many days. It was not Tai-ajji’s fault that she was conditioned to believe that periods meant shunning away the woman to a dark corner. It was not aai’s fault that she felt trapped between the old generation and the new. Above all, it was not a mere coincidence that the idol was waiting on the edge of the water. He was, after all, extending his stay just for her. It was His doing that the tide had gone out and He stood stranded – He had one last devotee to bless and her promise to fulfil.

Her low heels squelched in the murky sand now as she walked on to meet her Bappa. She could not believe her luck… how she had rushed out of home triggered by Tai-ajji’s accusatory finger shunning her. She did not know what force brought her to the beach. She had even consciously displaced the idea that the Pivla Raja came to this beach front for his final journey before bidding the last goodbye. The cold, slimy sand, mud and clay now entered her sandals and brought her back to the scene where the uniform red t-shirt and dark green shorts clad sevaks were rushing to and fro – some seeking hot chai to keep awake, some looking for someone who had answers as to when the tide would come in again.

Just then she spotted Manya Shinde dada, who lived in her chawl building. “Arre Kalpu, tu itthey?” he asked loudly from his mount on the dingy boat. She had to crane her neck straight up to look up at the Ganesh idol as she replied to Manya dada “Ho, I came to see the visarjan and I saw aapla Raja here, so I came for a closer look.” Manya beamed to see a familiar face in the crowd, it made all his anxiety about the pending visarjan and the tide melt away. “Bara… bara… yetes ka varti? Do you want to climb aboard?” he asked her. Kalpana’s heart fluttered… should she tell him? Would it matter to him or to God or to anyone else… wasn’t this an invitation enough? An opportunity He had afforded to her? “Mi yeu shakte ka? Can I?” she still hesitated.

Manya jumped down the ledge he was standing on and walked across a small bridge that connected the dingy’s stage area to the edge of the boat, and extending his hand, hoisted her up on the bridge. Now she was inches away from her goal post. As if in a trance she paced up the platform, cautiously balancing herself, first with one foot then the next as the dingy boat lightly bobbed on the light layer of sea water.

The world vanished around her… there was no Manya dada, no boat full of sevaks shouting, scrambling, no exasperated devotees or sevaks squatting on the beach, no visitors or sight seers, the city itself had evaporated. What remained was only Kalpana and her Ganpati bappa. No words were spoken, no wishes extracted from her heart or mind… He knew it all. She trusted Him. It was a miracle indeed, the day the tide went out, just so that His one devotee could meet him before he bid farewell.

This is the concluding part of the 5 post series written for Blogchatter‘s Half Marathon.

You can read the earlier posts here –

Read Part 1 of this story here

You can read Part 2 here
and here is Part 3
and Part 4