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The shell dolls had come first. A cousin in Madras would send boxes and boxes of shells of different sizes. The whole house would smell of glue during those times when Lalithakka worked. Large shells for the body, rounded ones to represent the face, little woven baskets filled with tiny long shells that looked (with the help of a little imagination!) like fish…and there you had it, a fish-seller! Then she began to use a combination of shells and cloth. Then, she moved on to cloth dolls, with glittering accessories, and ready-to-fit faces (with names like Savithri-type, Padmini-type, and later Hema Malini type!) picked up in fascinating little shops in the Flower Bazaar. Shelves began to fill. People would come home, and exclaim and say: "How well you do this!" and for a second, the children, silently watching, would see a glow on Lalithakka's face. A certain look that appeared very rarely, one which gave a fleeting little glimpse of the face that had lived a long time ago.

Then someone told her they'd like her to do a nice large Eliza-Dolittle-at-Ascot for their showcase in their little drawing-cum-dining in the New Extension area in Rampuram. They gave her a picture torn from some magazine. Lalithakka managed to do a pretty good job, considering she had to use a Padmini-type face for Audrey Hepburn! Pleased with the result, those people told someone, who told someone…..and slowly, a new aspect to life at the Rampuram house began.

Lalithakka began to hold classes….2 classes a week at first, then it became Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Her classes were held between 2 and 4 in the afternoon….the after-lunch-but-before-the-kids-came-home time that was easiest for all concerned. And she managed to get a fair number of students. Rampuram had its mildly bustling side these days, with a few industries cropping up outside the town. Her students were young girls who had finished studies and were biding time before getting married; young wives who had just moved to Rampuram and were at a total loss as to what to do with their time till they started their families; mothers of school/college-going children and older ladies who saw this as an occasion to get out of their houses.

The outside veranda would be cluttered with chappals and sandals on the days of the classes. For the children, guessing which pair of footwear belonged to who was a game.

They would hang around while the classes were in progress, lolling around on the colourful jamakalams on the floor, rummaging through plastic containers, old pickle bottles, and old biscuit tins which had been transformed into individual Aladdin's caves filled with "treasure" of the coloured beads, gold and silver thread-work type! They would help with the cutting, the gluing, and the sorting out. The boys would add to the general mood of fun by making all sorts of mistakes and faux pas! They'd invariably win indulgent laughter from all the ladies in the class…and Vidya and Meera would take advantage of all the unconscious protection around, and snigger in a superior fashion at them! The five of them, if they remembered to stay still, also got to hear a great deal of gossip.

And the dolls! Meera Bai was a favourite, as were flower-sellers, fruit-sellers, fortune-tellers, gypsies, bride-and-groom pairs, and individual ethnic types like a Rajasthani village girl, a Mohiniattam dancer, or a Bharatha Natyam dancer. During Navarathri, there was always excitement over the arrangement of the dolls. And while arranging the different sets of dolls on the steps was OK, the real fun for the kids lay in creating the inevitable "township" at the base of the steps. Over the years, plastic had slowly crept into the arrangements, side-by-side with the Kondapalli figures, wooden huts, clay temples and dolls and the little village houses with thatched roofs. The pride of place went to Lalithakka's creations. Every year, she'd have one central theme. One year, it was the entire Dasa Avathara…..resplendent, impressive, glorious; another year, it was ladies at Lakshmi Puja, or a bunch of school-kid dolls at Flag Hoisting, complete with a small band and a parade……

As the children grew up, it was around these occasions that Change really began to make itself apparent, ….and the strain was felt most by Meera. What was fun at 10 became irksome, maybe even a little embarrassing, at 14. For one thing, clothes became an issue.
While Vidya moved comfortably into "half-saris", Meera hated them, never wore them in her own home. She owned exactly two, both of which she'd be forced to bring to Rampuram, and display….. for appearance's sake.
Comparisons between Vidya's confirmity and Meera's "rebellious" streak were inevitable, loudly voiced and led to their own friendship being placed under severe strain and test.
Vidya knew how to cook basic stuff; Meera did not. Vidya helped her mother during pujas, and other celebrations, without needing to be told what to do; Meera didn't even know how to draw kolams; Vidya did not break into English at the drop of a hat, but could handle Tamil and Telugu with equal ease. Vidya understood that she had to be separated from the rest of the family for those three days. No such system existed for Meera, who crowned every folly by her recent answer to Chinakka's query.
"I did not understand what she was asking!" Meera had later replied, in agonised self justification, upon being severely questioned by her mother. Chinakka had come up to her on the very first day of her arrival that particular holiday, and for some reason dropping her voice to a rumbling low, had hissed: "Finished your bath this time?" And Meera, in complete, amazing, uncomprehending innocence, had turned to her, and smiling brightly, had replied: "Oh, yes, Chinakka, I finished my bath this morning before leaving!" And Chinakka had decided that Meera was "acting smart" and there had been a spate of nasty comments and snide remarks directed at poor Pushpa.

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