Unnamed Story (Part-1)
She pulled the sheet up to her neck. When the nurse comes she would ask to raise the room temperature a bit. Or at least she will ask a warmer blanket… The clock tells the time is 1:20 PM. It must be very hot in Delhi at this time of the year. She doesn’t remember when she felt Delhi’s heat the last time, as she has been in this hospital’s air conditioned room for more than two months now. Still no sign of when this will get over… She starts looking at the ceiling; searching for anything which is not white; any sign of something new… Something unexpected…
She picks up her i-Pod with one hand and fixes the earphones one after the other.
Jab bhi ye dil udaas hota hai,
Jane kaun aas paas hota hai…
Jab bhi ye dil udaas hota hai…
As if she woke up from sleep, she trembles and changes the track in haste… This was the only old song in her play list. It is not that she doesn’t like old songs. She avoids them because she doesn’t want to think about the past and the old songs take her to her past… At one time she had such a huge collection of old melodies. She had built her musical library on one shelf of Rahul’s library… One summer, Rahul had arranged all his books in that tall cupboard and called it his library. When she came back from work, she found Rahul sitting on a chair in the front of the cupboard, with a book in his lap but eyes fixated on the shelves of the cupboard. Did he look happy? He looked elated! In no time, he started making plans to buy some dozens of more books to fill up the empty space on the cupboard. She just sat on the chair next to him and looked at his ‘library’… “I can fill that empty space now”, she said. “How?” “Just watch”. And she arranged all her music CDs and DVDs in that empty space. Now “his library” had become “their library”! They celebrated this new adventure in their rented flat with the baigan ka bharta she prepared in dinner. And Rahul promised to prepare the breakfast next morning. She smiled… ‘Rahul’s promise!’ :) Her lips tried to smile but eyes betrayed, as tears dropped from them… What were those days? They seem so far… Hot tears slipped off from both her eyes… She pulled her iPod off and let it lie away from her pillow. The music was irrelevant for what was going inside her heart… If there was one thing which was closest to her in the recent troubling phase, it was her pillow. Though the nurses changed its cover everyday, she had asked them not to change the pillow itself; ever. She can only assume that they had indeed obliged her… In her good days, she was very touchy about her pillow… She would make sure that it doesn’t get exchanged with anyone else’s; not even with Rahul’s…
Using her right hand she wiped off her tears with the towel… But fresh gush of tears came trickling after… Outside the room, someone wiped his eyes with a handkerchief…
***
Realizing that she had allowed herself to go back in her past, she tried to move her body alternately in both sides as if to shrug off all the bits of past from herself… She looks in a different direction, keeps her iPod on the table, tries to bend her head towards the right, where she could see the bottle of blood being transfused into her… When she was a kid, she would not be able to control herself at the sight of anyone’s blood… Once her cousin sister fell down from a stationary bullock cart and had a cut on her head. Instead of helping her, she had run away… shouting… crying… in all tears… first to the bedroom, then to the roof, then to the varandah, then ultimately to the bathroom where she cried for good half an hour. By the time her mother came to her and took her out again in her lap to meet Rachna, she had her eyes red and swollen. But Rachna had already started her game of kit-kit and welcomed her back into it. All that remained as a mark of the cut was a white piece of cotton hanging loyally from her forehead due to a patch of yellow Dettol. Then there was that accident of her teacher. His motorbike had skidded off the road in an attempt to avoid a little goat. He came to teach her the next day with a bandage on both his arms with red spots showing the depth of the wounds. At the mere sight of it, she started crying again, and this time instead of going inside the house she ran outside, in any direction where her feet followed, and ended up falling in the little pond dug at the neighbouring construction site. Her father called her to him that night and asked her to sleep with him… She liked his smell and craved for the warmth of his arms, when he took her to sleep gently patting on her shoulders and tinkling her forehead… Baba was not generally accessible to her, unless he specifically asked her to come to her. This was often inspired by some of the misadventures she would end up doing, or when she picked up a fight and never gave up till the end of the world. She would also have the privilege to hold his finger and walk to the school on the days when Munna Chacha would have gone somewhere and Baba would decide to take her and her brother to their school himself.
She wiped her ears again, as a nurse came for vigilance and swiftly went back out of the room finding everything normal as expected.
Baba had a bushy moustache which matched his personality… He was the Daroga Sahab of the nearest thana. Not only children of his village but almost everyone revered and feared him… Every morning when she would wake up and go out, she would find him in front of their house sitting on his large chair, having finished his kasrat. In some time a massager would be coming to massage his body with sarso tel, after which he would go to take bath. He would also call Santosh for bath who would eagerly wait for this moment perhaps as a means to end his morning study session. She envied him for this exclusive opportunity. Though at times Baba will also let her in; often on Sundays when her mother would send both the kids to take bath with Baba. Her brother and she would sit in the laps of their father who would pour buckets of water on himself, thereby making them enjoy a splashing fountain bath. At times Ma would watch their bath from a distance, laughing and giggling. In those moments, they would call their mother to join them and never could understand why she didn’t join in on any of the days. It was so much fun to take bath with Baba…
(To be continued…)
- Rahul