Surangi's excitement knew no bounds. She had been waiting for some mail for weeks, her eager eyes surveying the desk in the drawing room for any evidence of a letter from Bombay. She was sure she would receive a reply, the clever little girl had written a note to Madhav with some queries- there was a Math problem and a reference to a legend from the Mahabharata. She had dared not include any personal questions as the note was a part of the letter being written by her mother-in-law to Madhav. As it was from their mother the letter was sure to be read by both Vidya and Madhav.
"Tapaal aley ka?" Surangi had enquired if the mail had been delivered, as soon as she returned from school, walking ahead of Waman. Yashoda and Sharayu could not help but smile. The child bride was too young to be romantically involved with her distant husband but it was easy to see that her bond with him was growing stronger.
"A letter from Madhav was delivered today, but it is addressed to Vahini." Sharayu informed Surangi, trying to keep a poker face.
"But I had sent some queries regarding my school work. Is there any mention about them?" Surangi looked crestfallen. What if Madhav had not bothered to respond to her?
Both Sharayu and Yashoda burst out laughing to see the young girl's expression.
"Of course he has written about them! Don't forget that Madhav is a self-appointed guru to Waman and you, he cannot resist sharing knowledge. But you have to wait until after lunch to read his note!" Yashoda assured her.
Surangi somehow gulped her meal, scalding her fingers with the warm lentils and choking on her morsel a couple of times. She may as well be eating rocks for all she cared. All she could think of was Madhav's letter but was too polite to say it aloud.
"Vahini, looks like someone cannot wait to read the love letter from their beloved!" Sharayu laughed even as Yashoda scolded Surangi for rushing through her meal.
Surangi helped the women wind up the kitchen and even rocked the baby till he fell asleep in her arms. The moment Yashoda handed her the note from Madhav she clutched it and ran to her favourite spot in the backyard to ensure complete privacy. Her heart beat rapidly as she unfolded the note addressed to her.
"For Surangi,
Greetings from Bombay!
It is heartening to know that you are taking Math seriously. Keep up with the practice and feel free to ask about any more doubts and I will be happy to respond.
Mother had written that everyone is well and that my little cousin has been named Madhukar. As you may know, his name means a honeybee, although poets often use the name as an euphemism for a woman's lover."
Surangi blushed. Her husband was referring to a woman's lover. Like everyone else she too addressed the new baby as Madhu, short form of Madhukar. Each time she uttered the word it reminded her of Madhav. It was improper for a Hindu woman to address her husband by his name but she could not resist uttering Madhu aloud whenever she showered her affection on the baby. Once when she was holding Madhu close the supposedly hungry infant involuntarily tried to latch on to her non-existent breast through her bodice. She was both amused and embarrassed at the same time. She rushed him back to his mother Sharayu.
"But he is not even crying. How did you guess he was hungry?" Sharayu asked her.
"I just know by instinct!" She replied and ran off without further explanation.
Sweeping those thoughts aside she turned her attention back to the precious letter.
"If 4 men and 6 women finish a certain job in 8 days, and 3 men and 7 women can finish it in 10 days, how many days will 10 women take to finish the same job?
The solution is to the problem is:
8x (4M+6W)= 10x (3M+7w)
Divide both sides by 2.
Thus 16M+24 W= 15M+ 35 W
On solving the equation,
16M-15M= 35W-24W
or 1M=11W
Thus (4x11)+6W= 50W
50 women take 8 days.
The solution is, 10 women will take 8 x 50/10= 40 days."
Surangi grinned widely. She already knew the answer. Madhav had coached her earlier so she knew how to solve the problem. She had only posed him the question because she needed an excuse to communicate with him. Now she meant to keep the channel open, thus helping to bridge the gap between them. She did not know that Madhav was already aware of her plan, and even if he was mildly amused at her strategy he appreciated her for having taken the initiative. If they wrote letters regularly the family would become less curious eventually and the contents of their mail could get more private with the passage of time.
"About your other query, Jambhul Aakhyaan is an unsubstantiated folklore that has its origin in Maharashtra. There are hardly any written references to it so the episode may be completely fictional.
As you are aware the Mahabharata is an epic Hindu legend. The plot of Jambhul Akhyaan uses the jambhul fruit (jamoon, Syzigium cumini) as a metaphor- the fruit stains the tongue purple as a reminder to humans that they bear within them hidden secrets and untruths. It seems only those who do not conceal any secrets will have an unstained tongue after eating the jambhul fruit, which naturally means that no living and thinking human can evade the stain. People keep secrets stemming from various motives, these may range from safeguarding one's image and self esteem to ensuring the interests of loved ones in order to avoid hurting them.
According to the Jambhul episode, during the thirteenth year of the Pandava's exile, Draupadi was tempted by a ripe jambul hanging from a tree and she plucked it. Suddenly Krishna appeared and stopped her from consuming it, saying the fruit was intended for a sage to break his twelve-year fast. She asked Krishna for a means to avoid the wrath of the sage and he revealed that the fruit could be restored to the tree by someone who did not hold any secrets.
To help her in the mission each of the five Pandava husbands of Draupadi volunteered to confess their secrets before the tree. With each revelation the fruit rose a little higher in the air, closer to the branch where it had been hanging. Now it was Draupadi's turn.
Draupadi confessed to loving each husband, though she loved Arjun more than the others. The fruit rose a little but still hovered in the air, waiting for her to reveal her deepest secrets.
Not having a choice Draupadi then confessed to loving Karna secretly. She regretted having rejected him earlier on the grounds of caste. Had she married Karna she would never be subjected to public humiliation of being wagered away in a game of dice by her husbands and being disrobed (though the attempt was botched by Krishna's intervention) in court. On hearing her most intimate confession the jambhul fruit immediately reattached itself to the branch. The Pandavas were stunned to learn the secret that their common wife had held within herself, that she loved their enemy Karna more than she loved them.
Surangi, we don't know where this lore originated. It is definitely not found in Ved Vyas's version of the Mahabharata, I believe it has been hinted at in one of the Jain scriptures. Even though the Jambhul episode may be a mere improvisation it demonstrates how the Pandavas, who were virtuous and brave, still failed their wife Draupadi when she needed them most to protect her dignity and honour.
It also reveals that one cannot take a woman's love and devotion for granted. Draupadi was forced by her destiny to serve the five brothers but each of the Pandavas had wives of their own. Unlike the brothers Draupadi was duty bound to love them equally. She could not help loving Arjun more, after all, he had won her during the Swayamvar by deftly striking the fish's eye with his arrow from the reflection of the fish in the water. Unfortunately for Draupadi Arjun loved his wife Subhadra more. His relationship with his other wives Uloopi and Chitrangada was rather transient.
The Mahabharata is a confusing tale. It makes unsettling revelations which are unusual among legends and parables in books revered by people of other faiths. At Kurukshetra the good guys won because they were destined to, but not all the bad guys were necessarily evil. In the end it did not matter that the Pandavas were on the meritorious side and had Krishna's assistance and blessings. Karna, who was on the aggressor's side of the epic battle was unfairly killed by Arjun when the former was trying to get the wheel of his chariot unstuck. Only after Karna's death did Kunti reveal to her sons that they had committed fratricide, when she explained the circumstances of Karna's birth. Karna was then cremated by an emotional Duryodhana and his wife Vrushali immolated herself in her husband's pyre. The Pandavas remained mere guilt-ridden spectators. Draupadi probably mourned Karna's death privately, we may never know the truth!
Anyway, don't worry too much about the Jambhul episode. Eat all the jambhul you want from the tree in our yard, it is one of my favourite fruits. And don't neglect your schoolwork. Remember to massage Aaji's feet with the kokum butter stick and bronze bowl, it will help her aching and cracked soles. Write back some stories of little Madhukar, I am sure he is as adorable as I can imagine him to be. Gaju is growing rapidly and cannot stop talking, though much of it is just babble. Vidya Tai asks me to tell you that she misses you and she hopes that you are using the knitting and crochet sets she sent with you. Chandri says she misses all of you but I have a feeling she is content here. More in my next!
Your husband Madhav!"
"Such a long letter!" Surangi remarked. The note was not as private as one would imagine in a letter written by a spouse. But to her it was a treasure. She would store each letter from Madhav in her special chest and looked forward to building a large collection. She ran back for some note paper and pencil, hoping to write an equally long response to the letter.
She was hardly aware at the time that she did not have to write back for Madhav to remember her. Unknown to her there nestled, in Madhav's own box of hidden gems, a hairpin attached to a string of dried bakul flowers that had once adorned her hair. Madhav had preserved the fragrant reminiscence, complete with a few stray strands of her wavy hair still attached to the pin. There was also a pocket handkerchief she had left behind. In a corner of it she had embroidered the initials of their names with an amateurish hand. To Madhav the kerchief was more precious than the finest specimen of Chantilly lace.