Why did she go?

Daddy’s princess she was, she was just three when god had sent for mommy. She had hardly grown the bond with her, when she had to let her go to reach up to the heaven. The heaven, daddy told her, was beautiful than the house they were living in. Thus, Anya was happy that mommy had gone to a better place to spend the rest of her life. She was however unhappy that she won’t come back to live with her and daddy, as heaven would be her only abode now. Daddy would take the little Anya in his strong arms and would drive her through swift swings, singing her a lullaby which Richa would sing for their angel. The moon was up high, and Arsh was missing Richa, he was robust  enough to render uninterrupted sleep to Anya while carefully wavering her in his arms; still had his eyes filled with saline droplets which obstructed the vision to the moon making the sweetness of it blurred. Arsh was broken inside but had courage to hold his angel to face the toughness of life as a daddy ahead. Every night would come and Anya would be told the story of a fairy. The fairy who came to their house and took his hand into hers, she showed him how beautiful life was, she taught him how to take care of Anya, she blessed the family and went back to heaven. Anya would listen to the story and asked why did she go and how she looked? The same question at the end of this story every-night had nothing to offer to Anya in return. The little angel would remain unanswered when she asked daddy about the fairy, “Daddy, what is the name of the fairy, how she looked and why did she go back”?

 Days had gone, and now months were passing by, the ritual of mourning over the loss had to be broken as another rule of life and the time had come to attend to the routine. Anya would go to a preparatory school, and Arsh would leave for office while dropping the kid to the Montessori. Lunch hour at the office would let Arsh overhear the husbands discussing over the expertise of their wife’s hands at Aloo Parantha or Biryani. It happened daily, Arsh would be reminded of the noise invaded by the steam of the cooker when Richa would cook lunch for him. He smiled as the flashback started of the times she would be worried unnecessarily over petty matters of sharing his lunch with office mates and never having enough himself; or worrying  whether he liked Shahi Paneer in the lunch or not? Who thought this would be a memory in the present, and would be so important to him a matter unlike its pettiness before. He munched over his piece of bread-butter, had his cup of tea and was back to work.

Anya was at the baby-center as usual in the late afternoons and would be having children of her age around and thus was happy. She would be cranky at times and cry for daddy and would ask the mistress to call him. Time was passing this way. Sharp at six thirty daddy would come to his angel and she would run, with an amazing speed and cling to the tough shoulders of her daddy, as if this air she inhaled of daddy’s scent had saved her life. Arsh would kiss her forehead and observe her dark brown eyes sparkling and the beautiful curls of hair she was getting as her mother had. Arsh would take Anya to the park, would be one among her friends and laugh with her till she got tired of it. The months were passing by and she was growing up to senses. She was being sensitive to her surroundings as she would see her other mates being fed by their moms, being scolded and pampered at the same time, being dressed in their best of Barbie’s and Dora’s collections, while poor daddy would collect the heaps of the same but never had expertise of accessorising the angel as a feminine hand would craft it. Anya was now getting bored of the same fairy story and was disappointed with daddy as she never got an answer to her question as a routine. Richa existed in the collection of the photographs Arsh had put all over the house on all the peach colour walls, both of them had done. Anya would now observe daddy caressing the beautiful hair of mommy every time the peach wall would be passed by. She would smile when daddy would kiss the pink flush on mommy’s cheek and then would pull on his angel’s chin and wink at her. Life was not easy, there were dreams to be fulfilled for the future with this kid, but it were mere memories they were living in.

Days changed to months, and time passed by. Today was 20^th of March it was Anya’s day, the day when Richa had given birth to this angel 12 years back. Richa was nowhere to be found but kept looking at her family, saw them grow together, it were the peach coloured walls in the house on which her photos hung. The peach walls were their garden, the orchid of the father and the daughter, which was most fragrant in the house. Her friends came, and the table got flooded with the gifts. The girl didn’t open any of the gift wraps; all she wanted was to unfold what she could never get hold of. She was not going to demand of anything as a birthday gift even after Arsh’s constant asking. All she wanted was the answer to the fairy-tale she had been listening to for years. However, she had grown up enough to know that how the fairy had looked but ‘why did she go’ still remained a mystery…..

Shree and the final move

                                                                       iii

She had decided and now there was no looking back. She had packed all her stuff. The bag remained at the door. His favorite outfit she wore, hopeful to be held by him unexpectedly. Still he didn’t come, no not at all. She prayed deep inside, she questioned her heart and wanted an approval from its bottom, but it denied. Her conscience failed to convince her, she had gained that courage somehow, now she will not stop, never!

“I want to come to stay with you mom” phoned Shree. “Mom, the whole house stifles me”, she choked. The ticket to Kolkata was booked now, her heart filled with the joy like a little girl’s, she wanted to breathe now, an air of another world, one with some beauty around. The silence now strangles the every move she makes in the house without him.

It is 6:00 pm, the maid came for her usual work, but Shree is not interested to hear what Meena has to say, Shree ignores her today. Shree’s mind is already occupied with the flashes of him going, saying goodbye through a note. She is angry and cannot swallow that any more. Meena went after her routine cleaning of the house and all her dues were cleared by Shree; Meena shed tears of sympathy and said she would miss coming there and speaking to her memsaab. Shree remained quiet and bid goodbye to Meena for the last time. She cooks, but doesn’t eat. She packs it the next morning and leaves it at the stained kitchen basin.

The dawn is more quiet than usual, it certainly isn’t peace! It is some painful lullaby that continues till dawn that day, it ceases to cease. She looks outside the window of her room, the same window pane where she stood with him for the first time, after coming to this abode. The same window where she sat looking at him reading the paper, with a vague frown and a baby like eyes. The place from here they both looked upon the whole street, sipping coffee and talking of their lives together. The thought of leaving distracts her from his memory, she suddenly feels the pain which she never deserved to have gone through, and asks why?

Ghanshyam rings at the door, “Memsaab, the car is here, I hope you are ready to leave, the train is at 2:30 coach is C1, seat no. 64, and there shouldn’t be any problem”. Shree nodded. Shree thought she won’t look back, but. Her eyes were wet, and her walk was slow, she was doing what she never thought, she will. She touched the window pane and felt he was there, smiling at her, with tears in his eyes. No, but he never came, not at all.    

Darkness....

The murmuring ceases

the night ascends

through marks of wisdom

finding clues through it

Dark turns darker, unseen and random

the wait for a light to cross by

Wait, the endless waiting

like the immortal sea

its an expanse so dark

Only my eyes shining through it

 having hope undersigned, untouched

Finding clues through it,

Dark turns darker, unseen and random…

The Eye-liner!!

“She prefers it in black! Ok, the dark shade of the brown would also do. No, let’s go for dark tinge of magnificent purple, it goes strikingly well with her laced mauve lingerie. Crazy, isn’t it?” Yes, to match your eye-liner with your slip-ins. But, let it be, as she thinks once the former is on, and the latter is in, he is going to die in her arms. “Hush me!!” these were some wild thoughts she just devoured upon, a wild reverie. She leaves for office and think about the heap of assigns she has for the day and a huddle of emails she had to reply to. Just before saying goodbye to the room, she flashes her eyes in the mirror, they look amazing in black….she adores and would gently kiss them if she had the capacity to do so. Heights of narcissism; move on!

The day had been spent, somehow all goofed up and upside down, some unmanaged thoughts make their way through her mind, but his thoughts makes her grip her palm even harder. She dreams about him, even day-dream, gosh he is lovely! She makes it sure at 5:00 pm to visit the mirror and check upon the expression of her face. The blush is all gone, but the eye-liner stays there, the deepest black, the shimmer well defined and it comes out sharp from the edge of her dark brown eyes. She is contented; she is happy to see that smile that reaches her eyes and makes it even more classy.

He is meeting her for coffee this evening, they will decide mutually whether Barista would make it smooth or Starbucks would help them feel all the way more starry! All set, with her off-white shirt tucked in her black colored pants, a thin black belt with a dull gold buckle hangs around her waist erotically. He comes wearing a white shirt too! She loves the shade of the blue color denims that hang upon him, and that ethnic pair of chappals which she had gifted him. She loves him so. His mood is switched off, and she can make that out as she has not been complimented as yet, even with the echoing shade of black which defines her eyes. Oh lord, men!! She flutters her long lashes, helplessly.

She keeps his right hand in her lap, and hold his fingers so as to pass on an amusing tickle, just to alleviate his mood. He is numb. She finally initiates the conversation, “how do I look?" he says "you look sexy as always!” she blushes red. This time her smile reaches even a higher distance than just eyes. She feels high at her head. It was difficult to determine the rationale behind that numbness or say the dumbness surrounding him that evening. Being quiet and saying nothing, why men do that? Why would some men want to just hold your hand and sit quiet and let you bear the consistent urge of your mind? The mind which was yelling at her, that why you had to waste this elegant pair of pants and a sleek-cut off-white shirt if he was sad today?? He kissed her forehead and they parted ways, for the day!

After dinner, she sat relaxing in the balcony, under the splendid moon-light, as she sips on a king size cup of coffee. She wonders, “Why is that so? why is there a need to feel appreciated? Why did so desperately I want him to compliment the profound black eye-liner I had on my eyes.” She was answer-less, she went to see herself in the mirror. Her reflected version was ready to admire her untouched dark-brown eyes, and the shimmer of the black was as loyal and brightly labeled. She goes to bed, and sleeps with a gratifying thought at least my eye-liner speaks!!

Shree and the memories of him..

(It is continuation to the prior written short story "The Written Note". Soon, to be called a collection of chapters from Shree's life.)

                                                                      ii

Memories hang around in her mind. Can she ever get out of her past? Does she even want to? The questions go unanswered while she swings in the armchair. Yet she found music in every sound and sight. She desperately waited for the evenings to come as they ensured the noises of the children playing outside in the colony park. While she shuffles through her wedding album 11^th time that day, the bell rang; Shree gets up and is surprised to have her childhood friend at the door. She stood speechless and tears rolled down her eyes. Anisha came closer to embrace Shree. She needed this; the minutes which denied the passing on. Time was running out of her grip at once, she didn’t wish to lose this moment ever. Anisha’s arrival had made Shree smiled, her heartbeat grew fast and summer seemed spring. Some 15 years back, Shree and friend, had shared their tiffins daily, had helped each other in completing their school assignments, had known each others likes and dislikes and had been together through thick and thins. But this time they met, it was different. They were neither school going girls nor some aspiring youth, but life had been tough to Shree.

He had gone ending all the things in a note, a note that was written to amaze her, to shake her out of her comfort zone and then putting her in a lifetime of trauma. It was Anisha in whose company Shree could sip that evening coffee in relaxation. Shree missed him and wished his soul sat near her, watching her face talk, and her eyes seeking him. Anisha talked about her homely stuff, the mother-in-law who was affectionate and the children who were the apple of her eye.  Shree wished he was there to look at her countenance and caress her hair which fell on her forehead. She was listening to what Anisha spoke, but was deep down missing him.

Anisha stayed that night with Shree. They both talked about Shree’s life with him, how happy Shree was, and how she had met him at their first date. The eyes were full of tears, they remembered him. The thought of the written note had been scorching her nerves. Shree wished he was there again, wiping away her tears and hugging her across, and the thought brought a sudden urge to be loved. Again, she slept with his memories holding her bosom tight; she could hear her own heartbeat. Anisha went back that afternoon. It was five in the evening, the sun had set. Now, the children did not play in the park outside. It was quiet and gloomy. She opens her wedding album for the twelfth time. She missed him yet again!