Sunday, October 20, 2013

Her last cup of tea

The door-bell has rung. Usually, it does not ring in the afternoon. It might possibly be a postman or a new visitor, if it's not an emergency. I walked out to the mirror, took a look at my face while keeping dupatta and then moved towards the door. 

When I watched through the door-lens, my lips pursed and a fountain of heaviness emerged from heart rushing towards neck and finally choking the throat. Tears are about to knock on eyes' door any moment. 

Whenever I remembered him, his image was that of the last time we had met. Memories are like Old paintings. An update is needed to bring them back to life and to present. The deep lines on his face has the history of eight years stored it in. His face has changed too much or say 'has metamorphosed'. He is an old acquaintance, an old friend. More precisely, Old Beloved.

I kept watching him through the door-lens knowing he would not notice me watching him. By then, the bell rung twice. Slowly, I lowered the door-nail and pretended to look surprised. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and cleared my throat. 
" Oh My God! I can't believe it's you. How did you land up here?", I asked while I gazed at his face.
"Sushi told me you're staying here. So, I thought of saying you 'hi' " He said with a smile. "Hi Rekha"
"Come in."
Slowly, he walked up to sofa, kept a small bundle of papers on table and sat gently. I sat on the sofa facing him and asked him what and how is he doing? 
"Nothing great. Just working on a script. A struggling writer." he took up today's newspaper and averted his gaze from me. Perhaps, he was sad at his lofty dreams being shaken to ground.
"hmm.. What would you like to take? I mean something hot or cold.", I rose from the sofa and asked.
He raised his gaze to look at me, "Tea. I love tea prepared by your hands."

Shyly, I smiled and entered into kitchen. His face has lost the warmth and handsomeness of the past. Youth all gone, old clothes and some traces of white hair in his mustache speak of unpleasant confrontation of his dreams with reality. I feel a bit satisfied for making the decision to move away from him at the right time. I have all the pleasures and comforts what it takes to have "a good life." I loved him then but not anymore. There are numerous things more important than love in this world. I have a happy family to live with and I love them dearly.

I moved into the kitchen and put water on the stove. Ram, my husband and I don't like tea but we serve tea to guests. It has been three months since I last prepared tea for someone. I struggled to find tea, till I found the empty container.
I walked into the Balcony and looked if anyone from Mrs Sharma's house would be there that I may ask for tea. I came into the hall room to go to Mrs. Sharma's house.
"A happy family, all over smiles.", he said looking at me holding a photograph of me, Ram and Shanya in his hand. "What is name of this little angel?"
"Shanya" I smiled broadly, "Wait a minute. I'll just be back."
I rushed to Mrs. Sharma's flat to help me get some tea. But with disappointment, they too have stopped taking tea. I came back and thought of going to the nearby shop to get some packed tea. 
"Will you come with me? I have few things to shop, then we can come back, sit comfortably, take tea and then talk.", I asked him from my bedroom looking into the mirror. 
 "Yes. Must not be too far?" His stammered voice coming from hall was added with confusion. Possibly, he was willing to come and see me in front of mirror. Possibly, the debate of entering versus not-entering made him stammered for a while. 
"No, a hundred meters from the Campus gate." Within seconds, I came out in the hall "Let's go." We locked the flat from outside, took the lift and pressed ground floor button. In the lift, while he looked towards the door, I tried to bring him into a conversation.
"Do you remember Nishi? She is staying in this colony only. We meet sometimes in the evening. Mostly on Sunday evenings."
"Yes. She is unforgettable. At least for me.", He laughed for a moment, then again the shy passive look returned to his face.

Nishi was our mutual friend and the one who introduced him to me. Nishi, me and him would go on dinners, watch movies and sit in canteen. Slowly, she started missing on the dinners to give we two more time together. Just we two. That went on for five years till I got married. Married to Ram.

The lift opens and we reach to the ground floor. We came out and I asked if he could walk a half kilometers. We walked towards the Campus gate.  
While we walked, he soon moved ahead to keep me on his right as if any car would hit me. He would do it in college days when we walked together. While crossing the road, he would hold my hand. It was so lovely that time.

We reached the shop but this time he didn't held my hand while crossing the road. He preferred to stay outside the shop. I took some pasta and a tea packet and came out after paying the bill. It was a long queue. 

When I came out, he was smoking. He threw the cigarette and rubbed it with his shoe as he saw me watching him.
"Can we have tea in that shop?", he said and pointed at a tea shop some hundred meters away. It was around 2 P.M and two hours for Shanya to come from school. 
I said "Ok. let's go."
We walked. He still digresses and goes in the middle of the road like in college days. I had to pull him back to keep him near me, on my right, at my arm's length. And when he would leave me near hostel he would say "Keep me like that always. At an arms' length. That will keep me close with life." 
"Your daughter is very cute. She has your eyes."
"And my hair too."
"Yes. You know there is something different about kids with broken teeth."
"What? They look more cute with less teeth."
"Ha Ha", I joined him in his laughter. The laughter has eased the mood and had evaporated the heaviness of the moment.

For a moment, I felt transported eight years back. There is one time machine in this earth that exists: meetings with people you love most, you care about most. I felt I haven't had this kind of laughter for too long.

He has moved nearly to the middle of the road. I pulled him, possibly my sub-conscious wanted to remind him the fact that we were in love sometime. Possibly, I felt like a pampered child of that old-love time.

We reached the tea-stall. He ordered two teas and two biscuits, bakery biscuits round in shape. The ones that I loved since my childhood. I am surprised to see him remembering my favorites. When I was leaving the college, what he gifted me along with a bunch of roses were two packets of bakery biscuits.
"You still remember them?"
"What? The biscuits."
"What I have forgotten? You can have a quiz to know your favorites." He chuckled. 
"So, Where have you been these 15 years? I can't believe I am seeing you after 10 years. Last time, it was John's marriage.", 
"No, Tom's marriage. 8 years from now."
"Oh yeah! I remember."
"I was in Mumbai. I worked with some script-writers, earned some money. Then, I had a big quarrel with one script writer who refused to give me due credit for my work.", He took one sip of tea making sound. I hated that sound. Too rustic. 
"Then?", I looked into his eyes as a kid looking into eyes of the storyteller. 
"He took credit of my work and spread a bad name for me. I went to several screenplay writers to ask for a job. Everybody denied." He said with a proud laughter expressing his disgust over his fate. 
I tried to spread gloominess over my face that I thought-would be sympathetic to him. 

"So, what are your plans now?"
I waited for an answer for around 20 seconds. My eyes fixated on him and his eyes lost on the road. I cleared my throat to indicate my presence, yet he didn't respond. Probably, he wasn't sure about his plans or he didn't want to answer this to me.

I moved to the counter to pay the tea-bills. While I stood in the line to pay the bill, he was at the door in the same posture I had left him to be. I kept the change in my purse and reached the door of the shop. But he wasn't there. I waited for sometime thinking he might have gone for a pee. But when he didn't come back after few minutes, I started feeling awkward standing there alone with no purpose. 

I walked towards one more shop thinking he might be smoking there, but he wasn't there. I went up to a hundred meters more and then turned back. I was annoyed and was confused to why he suddenly disappeared. I walked back to my flat. While coming, unusually, I turned my head in each direction to find him. Probably, he was gone. Forget about knowing him, I couldn't even see him properly. 

I unlocked the room and put the tea and pasta on the table. His bundle of letters was lying below the photograph of my husband and my daughter. I untied the bundle and opened the first letter. It was dated on my birthday 15 years before. Then second 14 years. I opened the last letter which was dated on yesterday. 

"Dear Rekha,
It was really difficult to find your current address. I don't know when you moved to Mumbai. Everything has changed from my mood to my face, from my dreams to my reality, everything has changed. If anything has not, it is the ever flowing love for you from the depths of my heart. The lightnings of the reality has hit me so hard that I'd not be able to speak this to your face.

Rekha, since you walked away from my life. No, since I was pushed back away from your life, I have written a letter on your each birthday. These 15 letters are those letters. The 16th one which you're reading now is the last one. Not the last because I would stop wishing you on your birthday from now on. or not because love for you has stopped flowing in my heart and blood. But because, I am walking away. And I am walking away with no desire of coming back. 

Four days back, I came to your apartment in the evening. I thought of giving these letters to you when you were in the basement. Then I saw you, your husband and daughter laughing over some joke, over which I also giggled. But I didn't like that yellow suit of yours, please don't wear that. Your husband is a happy humorous man and your daughter is very pretty. These letters are my monuments for you. Each letter would tell you a different love-story. These are your assets, read all of them at least once before you trash them.

I have already started looking like 55 in age of 40 and the health will deteriorate further. It's cancer. The reverse counting has started. 90 days and I'll celebrate your next birthday somewhere in the sky, may be midst stars and moon. I will hug you today. 

And I am sorry for that. That will be a small gift from you to me. Remember, you said once that we would die in each other's arms. I'll consider the last hug to be like dying in each other's arms. Sorry if you feel bad about the hug but consider it one of those missed hugs near the hostels where I used to drop you in evenings. It's one of those missed hugs. Rather than receiving love from a million people, my deep wish would be to just receive love a million times from one person, Just you. Bye."

I read the last line again.  "Rather than receiving love from a million people, my deep wish would be to just receive love a million times from one person,  Just you"

I hugged the pillow and hold it tightly. Droplets of tears that I was fighting to hold back made the pillow wet. Doorbell rang and I ran to open it hoping it might be him. 
"Mama, It was a boring day. I am hungry", Shanya said.
I hugged her and wiped my tears with dupatta. 
"Mom, why are you crying?"
"I am not crying baby, something went into my eyes."
"Let me see what is it."
"It's ok now, my sweetheart. Now, get fresh. I am preparing your favorite thing, pasta."
"Ok", Shanya rushed to her room.

Love doesn't die, it sleeps in the backyard of our memories to be awaken by few hints of the old beloved. Silently, the heart always craves for those hints. However, bad and sad courses love stories may have taken, yet when we meet our beloved, everything we find is the same, even the time moves back to 8 or 10 or 20 years. I understood him and I understood him more than anyone. I understood him like his mother. And he did me too. The difference lied in the sacrifices we were ready to make for each other. Possibly, he would have gone for a job if I would have married him. Or possibly I would have supported him financially. We could have lived in a semi-urban city, possibly Ranchi and not in Delhi. He would have continued filling my soul with inspiration and positive vibes and I could have been something else. Anyways, I am not doing anything great in Delhi?

"Mumma, Can I watch cartoons for an hour?", Shanya asked candidly.
"But only for one hour."
"Ok.", And she put on the TV to watch her favorite 'Pokemon'.
I drew myself back from Ranchi to my kitchen and lighted stove to prepare pasta. 
But still, I wish I could have trusted him. 

Anyways, I'll prepare tea today. Two cups of tea, after 6 months. 

Cheers to me. Cheers to Ashutosh. 

"Ashu, I will join you someday. Up there. And I want to say you sorry, a million times. I know I have said it a hundred times, but still I never feel I have said enough to make you understand that I really mean. If I could have known that you loved me this much, if I could have known that you'd still miss me after numerous years have passed, I would not have made that single bad decision. I am happy with my life even now, but living with you was not just happiness. It was like being in heaven. If God ever asks me to go back in past and undo one thing, I'd most certainly undo that decision of us being separated.

Despite my love, there is one more truth to me that I am a married woman, a woman with a family to handle and a kid to grow. But I promise, I'll join you there. To be happy and to make you happy, we'll meet again some other time, at some other space. Wherever you are, just know that I remember you like you remember me. And there is one truth, I find you there in my loneliness. Yes, you're still there.

"The pasta is ready, honey"

"I love you Mamma"
"Love you too beta."


I thank all readers who spent time with Rekha and Ashu and appreciated their story. I have deep regards for people who took pain to read this long story and gave valuable feedback. The feedback provided by Sarveshwar, Pradeep Kumar Gupta, Nasir Mehandi, Arindam Banerjee, Neeraj Kumar, Swagato Ghosh and Siddharth has helped me make this story better. Thank you all. :)

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Carried away with spirit

"What prompts you to leave Dhanbad and go to work in Naxalite affected rural India? Is this a sane decision to resign a secure PSU job and going to start struggle? Have you thought what you'd be doing after three years of Fellowship? etc. ". These are some of the (many) questions I've regularly been answering to, since I declared my stance on joining PMRDFS. There are many questions I do ask myself: "Will the government provide me security? What if the Naxals come in way of my work? Are Naxals against development? How the public officials there are going to treat the PMRDFs?"

I am joining PMRDFS with a bundle of misgivings. Joining is not the decision of my brain, but of my spirit and my heart. Treading on a different, difficult, less traveled path just with the wish " May everything change but my spirit". My questions will be answered by Jairam Ramesh in Hyderabad. For other questions I have these lines.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Swami Nigamanand and Guide

Almost 7 months after Swami Nigamanand's death, Raju Guide (DevAnand) passed away (on 4th Dec 2011) . A thread of similarity binds Character Raju and Swami Nigamanand. They both devoted their lives for the public cause with a belief on fasting unto death. But to the irony, whereas the God relented before Raju's death, it took 7 months to the government to relent and stop illegal quarrying in Ganges. Thanks to Swami Shivanand who continued the fight and sanctified Nigamanand's sacrifice. Wherever the soul of Nigamanand may be, it may rest in eternal peace. Sacrifices are never worthless. Something bigger than life propels Man to move beyond life. The "Cause" becomes greater than the "Self", eliminating differences between.

Let us watch 'Guide' again. Rest in peace "Swami ji". Rest in Peace "DevSaab."