Nothing Has Changed. Everything Has Changed. — A Ponmanipudi New Year Story

Nothing Has Changed. Everything Has Changed...

(A Ponmanipudi Story)

Dr. Chari returned from Boston two days before the New Year.

Jet lag still chilled his bones, but Ponmanipudi didn’t seem to care.

Nature never does ..does it?

On the first morning of the New year, before the sun rose fully, Chari stepped out for his usual walk.

Same winding path.

Same mud road...foggy with mist hanging heavy...moonlight trying to pierce the mist...

Same faint smell of cow dung, jasmine and wet earth.

At first glance, nothing had changed.

The big Neem still leaned slightly to the left, touching the sky...

The pond still glistened in early dawn like a bracelet.

The temple bell rang — rhythmic, as usual.

Yet, as Chari walked, something felt… different.

The old cow near the well had calved.

A young, unsteady calf stood beside her, legs spread, unsure.... life breathing anew.

Mylo ran ahead — no longer the awkward pup that once tripped over his own paws...confident, watchful.

April followed, heavier now, calmer, wiser..

The street brown dog, Sonu ran to greet Dr Chari, tail thumping, and a joyous greetings echoing from her....Two new puppies tumbled behind Sonu, discovering the world with ridiculous seriousness.

Dr Chari, paused, patting Sonu and remarked " what cute little kids you have brought to see me," as Sonu spoke thankfulness....

Bougainvillea had crept further along the wall.

Mangoes hung where flowers once argued with the wind.

The guava tree looked fuller. Older. A bit bent.

Nature, he realised, had not waited for the calendar.

“Boston weather was very cold, no?” someone called out.

It was Appuswamy, already pouring tea though the day had barely begun.

“Cold,” Chari smiled. “Very. It was freezing”

“Here also cold only,” Appuswamy said. “But heart is warm. Sit later.”

Chari nodded and walked on.

Near the old mud house, he saw Anjayeswamy, gazing out his wicket gate, waiting for dawn to break, to gather his sheep for grazing... He looked more bent now..."Saar, my joints hurt more now and I feel my time coming" he remarked as Dr Chari passed by. Yes, Anjayeswamy looked more aged...time passes .....

Near the pond, Seethamma waved.

“My son didn’t come,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But he sent a photo from Zurich. Snow everywhere. His child looks like marshmallow. Lovely child. And his wife, a white lady, looks cute too. But...ayoo, there were so pretty girls in Ponmanipudi...”

She smiled — not bitter, not happy. Just… continuing.

At the temple steps, Rudrasami adjusted his tambura.

“My voice is cracking these days,” he said.

“Age, maybe. Or too much raga stuck inside.”

“Or truth,” Chari replied.

Rudrasami laughed. “That too.”

Ganvi passed by quickly, eyes down, phone clutched tightly.

She didn’t stop.

But she nodded. A hint of a smile...

That itself was new.

The carpenter’s shed was open.

Someone was working inside — early, earnest.

Chari slowed.

It was Achaan.

Cleaner.

Thinner. Brighter ....

Eyes a little unsure, but steady.

Achaan wiped his hands and smiled awkwardly.

“Doctor…”

“Good morning,” Chari said. “You’re up early.”

Achaan nodded.

“One month now.”

“One month of what?”

Achaan hesitated, then said it plainly — no drama.

“No alcohol. Not a drop ...”

Chari didn’t react.

Just listened.

“I ruined enough,” Achaan continued.

“Mozhi stopped shouting. She became silent. That scared me more than her shouting.”

He smiled faintly.

“I’m learning carpentry properly. Small jobs. Slow money.”

Chari waited.

“I decided,” Achaan said, “I’ll change life one percent every day.

Not big resolutions. Just… one percent.”

“One percent,” Chari repeated.

“If I wait for full change,” Achaan said, “I’ll drink again.

If I do one percent… maybe life won’t notice. But I will.”

Mozhi appeared at the doorway then.

Didn’t say anything. No smile...

Just stood there. No shouting...

That also was new.

As Chari walked back, the sun finally broke cover..

Nothing on the road had changed.

Same houses.

Same trees.

Same people.

And yet — calves were born.

Dogs had grown.

Flowers had bloomed and fallen.

Men had cracked and tried again.

Women had waited and softened.

Life had quietly moved forward without permission..."change is life."

At Appuswamy’s stall, Chari finally sat down.

“Anything new?” Appuswamy asked casually.

Chari smiled into his tea.

“No,” he said.

“Nothing has changed.”

Then, after a pause:

“Everything has.”

The tea tasted the same.

The year didn’t announce itself.

But somewhere inside Ponmanipudi —

and inside him —

something had already begun.....Change...Life renewing..