When Love meets Silence

"Ma'am…balance disorders…hearing…." Tried Abhinav, fiddling with his tie, to they extent of strangling himself, out of breath. "Ma'am, they were…labyrinth…otitis media…and…and…" aimlessly exploring the last page of sense organs, which perhaps, never got imprinted in his minds( Thanks to the chocolate fantasy, which he was so engrossed in devouring at midnight).Mrs. Sahu, the biology teacher of eleven B, stared, ogled and haunted Abhinav, for his usual incapability to answer the asked questions. Only God knows, why he took Biology! Mrs. Sahu has this very strong premonition that if out of the 120 biology students, she taught, it was Abhinav, who would surely fail and bring shame to her unblemished name. "Oh forgive him God, he doesnot know what evil he does." murmured the teacher, under her breath.



Turning her attention to the silent class, she gestured Shefali to get up. Some students made faces, as the topper of the class stood while others goggled at her with appreciative smiles.But the opinion of Shefali-knows-all got flabbergasted as the class topper answered in silence, with her head leering towards her messy shoes. It had happened for the first time in her whole academic record. Everyone was awestruck. How could this happen? This was entirely impossible. Everyone was gawking at the two of them, with astounded eyes. Mrs. Sahu felt defeated and frustrated. After all, she had taught the whole class regarding sense organs, at least, thrice. This response had definitely dampened her spirit.Masking her 440V shock, she was about to question another student, when the bell rang and everyone gave an evident sigh of relief. Mrs. Sahu left, revealing her anger by ferociously thumping the book.



"Why the hell did not you answer?" angrily asked Abhinav, diving to where Shefali still stood, as if embracing the naked ignominy of what happened. She looked up and looked at Abhinav, with softness and love, evident from her eyes. "At times, we need to show our loved ones, what we feel when they are embarrassed." Her answer knocked Abhinav out of his senses. It had been only 4 months, when they first met. Shefali, the indomitable topper of 10 years and Abhinav, the new bie, who hardly knew the spelling of science, were a mismatch, when it comes to love." I am sorry …I will study from now…I will surely do…I promise…" vowed Abhinav.

He knew Shefali loved him more than he did her, he knew that there was one heart in the entire world who wanted his progress, he knew no one could inspire him and listen to his silence as Shefali does. He hardly deserved her. But, he could face his insult but not the deliberate insults that Shefali faced.After the class got over, Abhinav and Shefali were sitting in one corner of the field, discussing the entire chapter of sense organs."Yes…the hearing problems are labyrinth, meniere's disease, Otitis media, presbyacusis and tinnitus." Shouted Abhinav at the top of his breath…simultaneously craving to hug his lady love. A wide smile spread on Shefali's face. For her Abhinav was her child, whom she had to nurture, he was her little baby. "Listen to this also…in all these disorders, especially Tinnitus, the person hears when there is no sound…right…" questioned Abhinav, jubilantly."Yes, he does." Replied Shefali, feeling honored. Days passed and amazingly Abhinav never failed. Both of them started preparing for medicals. Fortunately, studies became important for Abhinav. Thanks to Shefali. Both of them craved to be distinguished doctors one day.


But life had distance in store for them. "I do not deserve you Abhinav." Quietly spoke Shefali, over the phone. Her voice was weak, with a hint of sadness and pain. For the past one month, she was hardly seen out. She hardly picked calls, hardly went out. Her parents too avoided the social gatherings. The entire Singh family had nabbed themselves inside the cocoons of their four walls, not interacting, not listening, and perhaps not even breathing!!! "What the hell is this…" said Abhinav, soaking the acidity of every word piercing his heart. He couldnot receive any answer in return. By the time, he reached to her house, they had vacated. No one knew why! Not even a single soul! No reasons, no explanations…just utter pain, hatred and curses. Life seemed to stop for Abhinav. He cried day and night. All this while, he was fortunately oblivious to how much he loved Shefali, but now, he knew how ignorant he was. Her laughter, her concern, her soft eyes, her frown, her scolding…they had were now poisoning his existence. He cursed her, cursed their relation. Credited himself the biggest fool alive. But every face still looked like Shefali, every sound gestured her presence, her laughter revealed her smile.To get out of the raw depression, Abhinav studied…studied…and studied…He wouldn't allow life to fuck him off. All these years, he had seen people being tortured by the hollowness of life…he would not let him life, the carefree one, to suffer the horrendous curse. Why the hell, did she leave?...well, for Abhinav, it mattered more and more, every single day. How incapable he was, how small, how weak, how insignificant…


Years passed by and Abhinav's transformed into Dr. Rohatgi. The tall dark handsome dude, the hearth-throb of hundreds of class mates, juniors and even interns. It wasnot that he did not date…he did, but rejected the girls, the second day itself. At times, he got a satisfaction and at times, just the raw pleasure of rejecting someone. Still girls lined up for him, no matter how mush he embarrassed them, hurt them and ignored them.

By the end of the day, he was the same eleven Std. Abhinav, locked in the April month…crying desperately for his only strength. His tear glands had dried up, they did not cry after that year. Who knew, it was for good or for bad! Tears made him human once and he was glad, he was no longer so!"Who the hell is Dal Kishore to wipe off his hands, after raping the girl." shouted Abhinav, at the top of his voice. The entire floor went silent. The junior doctor who was present at the court case and was updating Abhinav regarding the legal proceedings of Priyanka rape case, stood abrupt."Give me the address of the lady who is supporting Priyanka right now. I need to assure them. Law cannot be fooled…" asked Abhinav. He felt a bit relieved when the address of the Head of House for rape victims, was forwarded to him.

The very next day, leaving all his chores behind, Abhinav headed for the house. A meek and timid receptionist lead him to the owner's cabin. Just as Abhinav was about to enter, his feet froze and the time stood still.Sitting right in front of him, in maroon salwaar kaameej and neatly tied hair was his Shefali. She was engrossed in reading a book and hardly cared to look up. The face, which had haunted him for years, suddenly was conferred with life. He could not move…so strong was the strangeness. His suitcase fell down, unconsciously. Immediately, Shefali looked up and stopped. The instant recognition which was registered in her face, suddenly vanished. She gave a professional smile to him and gestured him to take a seat."Where had you been Shefali…" ran Abhinav…not able to control his shock. He had forgiven her… her presence was enough for the absent years. Unfortunately nothing got conveyed. Shefali clapped her hands and the same timid girl came in."Sir, Ma'am suffers from hearing loss. She cannot listen to what you are speaking. You can convey the message to me…I will let her know." She revealed.

"What the hell do you suffer from Shefali…Occupational, Ceruminosis, presbycusis, acoustic neuroma, meniere's disease or otitis…" yelled Abhinav… "You wont have to stand embarrassed now…All these years, I have grown competent enough to challenge you…tell me Shefali...what the hell did I do that you punished me all these years?" shouted Abhinav." Warm tears swelled in his eyes. The man who projected death cold patience, was shattered right now.Shefali looked at him with wide open eyes. She did not stand up, remained rooted to her position, as if transfixed by black magic. She had visualized this encounter, every night before sleeping, but this incident still felt so fresh, so deep, so sharp!"Don't you care…why the hell you would…you played with me…you …" controlled Abhinav. "Anyways, I was here to reveal that I had evidence regarding defending Priyanka's case…I will be there in the court tomorrow…have talked with the lawyer…" he informed and left the room, without a glance.Shefali felt as if, life stabbed her again. Firstly, when she was raped…secondly when she left Abhinav and thirdly …today…When silence meets love…they suffer the agony together.The nest day, Shefali had just parked the car, when she saw Abhinav surrounded by 4-5 dangerous looking men, near the court premises. She quickly moved towards him…"Tell me frandly, you doctor, how much do you want?" questioned a stout and heavy man.

Abhinav was silent."Oh ho! Do you want to devour another girl with us…" suggested the other one.Once again…silence…"What's your cost..?" barked the other…literally strangling Abhinav. "Rascal…hardly said a word…let's move…" ordered the leader…and the group moved off…casting threatening looks to Abhinav.When they left, Abhinav tried to press his shirt and get his collar to his normal self, when he suddenly saw Shefali, with eyes filled with tears."Go away from here…" she whispered…Abhinav smiled and said…"You are still bad at lying…you could have strictly said on my face that you hardly remembered me…why was the whole nonsense?" he questioned, looking straight into her eyes."Why were you quiet right now…you should have given them back at their face." questioned Shefali, wiping her tears.

"At times, we need to show our loved ones, what we feel when they are embarrassed" chanted Abhinav. Shefali was shocked to hear her long said words.Unfortunately, they did not have time to converse further…the case had begun. The reports stated by Abhinav, clarified the entire issue. Priyanka was saved from characterless questioning…her already spoilt name was not blemished more…The case ended in her favour. Before Shefali could verbally thank Abhinav, he had vanished. She searched for him, every possible place she could. But he was not there. With tears in her eyes and defeated soul, she reached back to her home. These two days had been so pure, so magical, so overpowering. She felt alive after so many years. Watching Abhinav was a blessing in disguise. Perhaps, it was destiny for her. She had promised herself that she would never ever search for him. She had to keep to it. By now, he must be a married man…even a father…No matter, how fresh her wounds pained, she will still bury it…still ignore her soul and still shut herself. But perhaps, destiny has something else in store for her. The note she found on her desk, revealed the unsaid, the unheard…
"If all my life I hated someone, it was you. But then, in this indomitable hate, I knew my love suffered in silence. You left my life, but my life still started from you and ended on you. Not even a single moment passed when you did not enter in me. Earlier I used to cry, when I was sad, but now, I am dead, I donot cry anymore. You did not even give me a chance to reason out, to reveal to tell…You vanished, with my heart pieces breaking in my soul…I cant use the word "rape" as I discovered 2 days back, for being your reason to not deserve me. You suffered a greater ordeal, in silence, in pain, in torture. You felt I would leave you and hate you but Shefali, how could I? You had embraced the imperfect in me…how could I leave behind the perfectness I got? Your eyes speak Shefali…they hurt me even more. Even now, they must be wet with warm tears…Donot you think we were destined to meet? Cant you trust me to give you your identity, your womanhood, your essence like other women of your age deserve and demand? You are not insignificant…you are not for use and throw…You have given a new voice to all those rape victims, which earlier, were never heard…You have proved to be justice, which almighty confers….So, if you feel like meeting me, just ring your office bell. For a change, your timid girl wont come and lie, for the 100th time, anymore, like she does to any known person who tried to meet you. Face the truth with me this time…and yes! I wont drop my suitcase, so that you hear the sound and look up…it doesnot let you lie.God bless you
Yours Abhinav
Ps: standing right outside your door!

Blind Eyes

“What the hell is this?” I shouted, losing my cool. My driver, heavily perspiring even in the air conditioned car, tried to regain his composure. I cannot blame him. He is just eighteen, having the first drive with his boss (that’s me) in the jam-packed roads of Delhi. To add to the already existing turmoil, we have a pregnant lady in the back seat. No, she is not my wife!
Who is she, you ask ? Well, I don’t know. I could have asked my driver to get to know her details from the purse she was carrying, but advancing onto someone else’s personal details, no matter what the situation, was against my principles.
A short while ago, my driver noticed that the ambulance which was carrying her, collided with a truck — both are known for rushing at maddening speeds. He rushed to the scene to find her in need of help and we are playing good Samaritan. Once in our car, we notice she is bleeding ; I am unsure of what to do. I touched her hand, checked her pulse — it’s normal. Thank God ! I am no doctor. IAS officials like me, hardly know the difference between veins and arteries.
For ten years, I had not touched a woman. The last time I did.., she was my life. I still remember those days ever so vividly..
The twenty year old Sharad, hastily cleaned his room. His speaking watch had just announced that it was five.., and when the clock strikes five, don’t ask what happens to Sharad. It had been a ritual for three years…This was the last year of his graduation. The last year of five-o-clock-stirrups! He went to the mirror and blindly stood there, imagining how he looked. He could only imagine, he was blind.
Sharad did not blame his life for his blindness. Ten years ago, when he was 10, he had lost his eyesight in a major accident. From then on, he had drowned himself in books, books and more books. Considered to be a prodigy, this chap landed in one of the best institutes of India and was currently in St. Stephens’, pursuing his third year of Economics Honors. Sounds pretty tough ? Well, I already said, he was a prodigy. This man of majestic intellect never allowed his “visually handicapped tag” to hamper his endeavors and accept things as they were — life had taught him not to judge..
Though he would not judge, Sharad often felt people and life, had not only judged him, but passed the verdict as well. He felt he lacked in at least one sphere of life — the love life. And this major sphere revolved around Priya. He had known her right from the very first say when she came in to lecture one of his evening classes. She made him read, write and learn. While people empathized with Sharad, Priya used to make fun of him, tease him and challenge him. All because she never felt that he was different from her.
“Hey Shady( God knows why women cannot pronounce real names!), there’s only a month left for the exams, would you teach me the last chapter, yaar.” She said, taking a seat next to him. Well, if you are wondering “Isn’t she the teacher ?” and this situation seems transposed, don’t get confused, you still have that correct. Priya was Sharad’s teacher no doubt, but a childish one. She taught him the chapters only once and from then on, she tested, examined and strengthened this prodigy by asking him to teach her.
For Priya, Sharad was an inspiration, a magic that had happened in her life which gave her strength. When she cried on missing her parents, she saw Sharad, who had no one to support him and consoled herself. When she cried after she remembered her first love who cheated her, she saw Sharad, as he hardly had anyone who loved him, but was still at peace. No matter, how big a thing was or how small the situation, she looked at Sharad for support — he was her silent mentor.
For three years, Sharad was more than a best friend to her. She hated the rigid professionalism in people. She found a true listener in Sharad who never judged her and was always a phone call away. It never meant that she had to talk substance with him ; any frivolous issue and Sharad always entertained it. He would laugh at her PJs, call her to wake her up and always made sure she was enjoying life.
Sharad had a handsome face, but he was hardly aware of. He could snatch away the hearts of hundreds of girls, but Priya hardly knew that she was his love. She dreaded unsure how he would react if he knew the soft corner she had for him for Sharad had never respond to her small kisses. It was his daily gift, whenever he did well; he was blessed with Priya’s warmth. Priya came closer to him and embraced him lightly “Never be sad…Sharad! I know the world sees you the way you appear. I can look inside and tell your sorrows, your failures, you sadness.” For these three years, if Sharad felt he was something, it was all because of Priya. It was a different feeling for Sharad that someone who had eyes, did not look on his face value but scrutinized him deep down.
After some more affectionate words, she bid her adieu. Sharad was still seated. In every Hindi movie that he had heard of, the heroine kissed and embraced only when she loved the hero. He smiled at this innocently stupid conviction and got up. He never wanted Priya to love him. He simply did not deserve her.
At night, he found out that Priya had left her purse. He immediately called her up to confirm that he had not ransacked it. While he was touching the warmth of it, Anubhav, his closest friend entered.”Hey, you must have mugged the entire syllabus man. Hey…wait a minute..” He said, snatching away the purse.”Please Anubhav, leave it” ordered Sharard, not wanting anyone to touch it.
“I have seen guys..flirting with 3-4 girls at a time. You never had a past. You love Priya like hell. Even she likes you..What’s the problem man?” questioned Anubhav, sounding indifferent to the reality of situation. He had secretly seen the contents — it contained Sharad’s photograph…
“I am not strong enough to protect her. Love is a promise, a sacred commitment. I don’t deserve an angel like her. She will find a guy, get married and have normal kids. With me, she cannot be guaranteed of any of those…” revealed Sharad, a decision which he had taken right from the moment he fell in love with Priya. It sounded more like a recorded version of the lines which kept playing in his mind. Anubhav knew that he could not convince him and relented.
Days passed! He waited for her, her tenderness, her smiles, and her voice. He wanted her to feel that she was an important part of his life. Then, the last day came. Priya did not knock, she tiptoed in and kept watching Sharad, who was holding the cards she had given.
“Sharad” She spoke and went silent. Sharad grew attentive, figuring out the direction of the voice.”Sharad, I just came today … you know, it’s our last day ..I am leaving for home tomorrow.. Sharad, I will miss you deeply…I cannot accept that three years are over and…” She broke into tears. Sharad searched all over in the room, found his crying angel and made her sit next to him. He could not say a word… It was the last time, he had held her hand. They sat in silence..
After Priya left for her home that day, Sharad had changed his number. He had resolved not to contact Priya till he was a successful man. He hoped that Priya would wait for him as well.Years passed by. He studied, studied and studied! He cracked UPSC after completing his graduation in Economics. He had been in so much news. People, who hardly knew about him earlier, now praised him that his administrative qualities were not limited to his sight.
Now a successful man, Sharad was planning to meet Priya. But as he was gearing himself up, Anubhav had called with the bad news. The news that she was married by now. Sharad had fought with the pain. Every night, he had dreamt of meeting Priya, revealing that he had done the impossible and not let his handicap limit him. But she had left him, just as he had left her. He could not blame her though. Life had taught him!
Suddenly the sounds of blaring horns brought me back to reality from my past. I touched the driver, who was now calm. “Sir, the hospital has come.”Dauntless energy dominated over me. I quickly got out of the car …the driver and me, held the lady. As I was a known figure, the entire functioning was very quick. The stretcher came, the best doctor was called, the lady was taken to the ICU and I, with my driver, sat outside.”Sir, do you want me to drop you home? You have been really tired.” He asked. I chose to remain silent and smiled. After a few hours, which seemed like infinity, the doctor came.
I perhaps heard the cry of a new born baby — thank you god ! The lives were saved. The nurse bought the child to me. The lady was resting. I touched the small boy, hardly more than my palm.”What would her mother name him?” I asked, still feeling the warmth of a baby. I had never touched babies before.”I think, Sharad, as she had a chit in her purse, in which she had circled this name.” revealed the nurse. I smiled. There was a tender connection I felt with the child.
After a while, I headed out. When I reached home, Anubhav’s missed call was waiting for me. As I waited for the voice mail to come thru, I engrossed myself with dusting the book rack, throwing away unwanted papers — crumpling each with my hands and throwing them at the bin in the corner “Hey Sharad…guess what, Priya is in Delhi. She is finally gonna have a baby…man! Imagine, your Priya…who herself was such a child…I cannot believe it man. But she deserves all this…perhaps the new life will be her courage!” Tears of joy stormed my eyes. I was happy for her and her husband..

In all my happiness, there was an unsaid agony — the agony of a blind man, one who cannot see the big things of his life. Like the crumbled paper near the bin which read..” Dear Sharad, Yaar, I don’t know how to break this news.. I tried calling you, but all in vain. I hope, your secretary reads this letter for you…Yaar… Priya’s husband is no more! He died in a plane crash 2 days back. It had been two years to their marriage and..I cannot pen down further, Priya is totally shattered and she is pregnant. Please save her yaar, leave your philosophies. She needs you. I know that she still loves you, just as you do. Yours Anubhav.”

My son's first Love

“Papa, Papa” shrieked my nine year old son, phenomenally carrying out his ritual of rampant tantrums. With my office tie jostled in my neck and shirt hanging loosely out of my trousers, I looked at those innocent big eyes, hopefully gazing towards me.
“Beta…it’s a bit of white, a little yellow and very... very... very... litte red.” I chanted, perhaps for the hundredth time to my dear soul. I never knew, explaining a nine year old regarding the recipe of face colour, can be so Herculean.“Oh and what if we use more of red?” asked Shanu, as if calculating a very difficult portion of mental maths. Now he had cosily rested in my laps, with his chart paper piling on both of us and brush safely struck in between his teeth.“You get a red Indian” I joked, not understanding what my joke meant. My child, smiled, as usual, empathising with my poor humour. I felt as if I could capture the moment. If only I could also paint my life, with a single stroke of brush…all even…all straight. Since, my son could not mingle the colours well; I geared up for the mission painting. In less than an hour, we had not only the chart paper painted, but also our face. We were looking like typical wall painters, drenched in sweat and paint.Finally, the perfect picture gazed at us. Shanu had drawn him and me, standing in front of a tree, holding hands. I was wearing the same tie, shirt and trousers. Thank God, he did not fit me in those latest capries and skirts, he is so found of. Afterall, he cannot wear them and this makes him curious.
It was already late night and we had not had our dinner. So, I picked up my little kiddie on my shoulders and entered the kitchen. We were both singing( rather shouting), the tune of Love Story5050.“Papa…papa…maggie” he ordered. Since, I knew it was what he preferred eating on Thursdays; I did not have the problem in locating the Maggie packets. He kept on counting, checking whether this time; I could cook his delicious dish in 2mins… I tell you, children have their own small ways of bringing challenge and laughter in your life. Well, you can see mine. Sometimes, it was maggie, or the little dog dodo, or the watchman, or simply football!!!When my little devil, finally rested on my lap for eating the dinner(cooked in five minutes) he suddenly turned morose. Easily getting to know the redness of his face colour, I asked him the matter. See, painting is important!!!“Papa, I think, I am in love.” He said, after a lot of stroking. Well, I was not shocked. He was my kid after all. If I had eleven infatuations till my marriage, my son was on the right age to commence the fantasy. But then....nine was a bit too early. The defensive father in me, tried evolving but then, i closed my eyes, opened them again and grew attentive. Afterall, it was a man to man business.“Who is she?’ I asked, turning all my attention to my tender life. Being a single father was difficult, but not impossible. After the death of my lovely wife, we both lived all alone. Though like all mothers, even mine persuaded me to marry. But no girl ever touched my heart. I was not wishing to indulge into any relationship which would distract me from my son. I didnot have a childhood sweetheart, whom I could meet after 8 years(Kuch nahin hota hai)...Neither, I knew basketball...(boring me)“I wont tell you…I just want to tell her that I love her...” said my son, as if repeating the gospel of truth, most boys announce.( Thanks God, he didnot have a wedding ring ready in his pocket)“So, do you want me to talk to her parents?” I asked, keeping my face very straight. I just prayed that my eyes did not gleam, revealing my mischievous self. Well, I wasnot those kind of dare devil dads who believed “I am Hitler, if you are Stifler”. Comeon, its 21st century...I was ready to have a 9 year old daughter in law. Cooking one more maggie packet wont irk me!“So, you want to write something for her?” I asked, in a suggestive manner, calmly stroking his head. Was it Hippocampus or cerebellum, which controlled the brain…but my son was talking like a man.“I want to write a letter…I want to tell her, how important she is for me” he said bluntly. Guts, glory and gumption…well, perhaps, this is what brave people flaunt of. After all, everything is possible in love and war, even making your father write a love letter for your kitten garden girlfriend. I never ever dared to ask this to my father. So, my son should!!! Change man...change!!!Obeying his orders, I just searched for a notepad and a pen. After it, I sat back, embracing my child tightly. Great people say “Pen it down, when idea does sound”…Hmmm, it tried rhyming it, but perhaps it did not. I was pathetic at writing.“So, I want to ask you, what all, I can write about, if I love her?” he questioned me, as if I had done my PhD in this. Sons will be sons and their fathers would be laughter buns. Writing was impossible for me, may be this was the reason why I always couldn’t flirt with girl friends. I never knew how to express my deep feelings. I never ever knew, how to even propose Shilpa (my wife), though it was an arranged marriage. I could bend on my knees for hours, with the ring in my hand. But i could never ever have a small card, stuffed in my pocket, telling how much she had meant and still did.
I just knew saying “I love you, I miss you and lots of Mwah” But writing something which could touch a women’s heart, was a no no. It used to shudder me, paralyse me...“You know Vishal, you have the most innocent heart in this world. But only if you could say me, write to me, at least…all what goes inside you….I would have been so fortunate.” cribbed Shilpa, all the time. In response, I used to embrace her tightly and make her listen to my heart beat. I always felt that silence was the best manner to reveal the unspoken. At times, i questioned my self, how would I feel if Shilpa did this silent business. But my heart was not strong enough to face the answer. Girls are emotional beings, after all...good at reading writing. Men like me are nincompoops...“Well, Shanu…you can write about her smile…” I said, after contemplating a lot. I wanted to be an all rounder for my kiddie, in spite of the fact that I was a failure when it came to writing. I donot know how and why, but i could imagine Leonardo painting Monalisa's rare smile...“Then?” He looked at me with those appealing eyes. Its rightly said that children are the reflection of their parents. Shanu’s big eyes, were those of Shilpa…I could feel it was Shilpa asking me...but once again, i was speechless... Old habits, die hard.“You can write about her eyes…how beautiful they are” I said, studying the face of my son, praying that I was able to cast a good impression on him.
Though, he was busy in gulping down Maggie, his body language revealed he was totally absorbed in my stupid stuff.“What else?” he questioned, quite directly.“You say about her dress…how beautiful she looks” I said, simultaneously thinking if a nine year old girl would look beautiful or cute in her school uniform?“Do we love people only because of smile, eyes and dress?” he asked. To be very frank, I never expected a nine year old to ask this. I believe I loved Shilpa the most, but why did I? what exactly was the feeling? Why was it still there when she was not ? Well, it could not be because of her smile, eyes and dress for sure. There was something else, that made me remember her, everytime i woke and went to sleep. Maybe a silent promise, maybe a connection...may be...yes! she made me complete...so my soul always craved for her, from dusk to dawn.“Shanu…you can write how special you feel when you are with her….” I stated, now seriously gearing up into the entire question answer round of love.“I feel complete with her.” He announced slowly. Finally, I was hitting at the right point. Shanu was looking very directly towards me. I just embraced him a little more. God bless him and his soul….. That day, i wrote Shilpa a small letter and kept it beside her photo. It read
"Dear Shilpa...I donot know, if you can read it, but i do love you. You did and still will, make me complete. God Bless You.Your love...Vishal"***Years passed by to this incident and Shanu grew. We stayed together till he was in his high school. Later, he competed Indian Military Academy and went by. Times changed and I, the old man was busy in searching for a suitable bride for my son. Then suddenly one day, I remembered about this long forgotten childhood sweetheart of his. I had tried asking him, whether he ever wrote a letter or not…But he never discussed on this issue. He was in army now!!! Guts glory and gumption were for much more important issues now!
Even I had much more important things to do, so this small love story went forgotten by my side too…Now he was a 26 year old man. A grown up guy! I had to talk to him. At times, childhood love is unforgettable. I never had one, so i could dream at least that my son has!!!
So, I did not want my son to shove it off, only to repent later. God knows, whether they were friends or just it was a small infatuation. But the manner in which Shanu had announced that day, it seemed so serious. I had to at least, know who this girl was… Since I knew that he would never tell me, I thought asking his best friend would be a right idea. Though, it might insane to you, it was really getting me worried. I asked Yash to come over for a small talk, as he was there in the town during for some domestic reasons.“So, how’s work going on, beta” I asked him. It seems funny when I think, but years ago I could have Yash and Shanu in my lap…not anymore for sure.“Its hectic. No time for masti and freedom.” He cribbed. Well, its natural. Everyone has to face this share of mad life…till you get addicted to it.“Dear…I don't know how to ask but there is one matter which has been really perturbing me for a while’ I commenced for the hot discussion. Though, it was quite illegal (Well, I am lawyer, if I forgot to say)…to enquire about your son’s love life. But then, I had to do it, today or tomorrow. Yash… obediently gestured me to question further.“You know, years ago…when Shanu was around nine, he revealed about his little crush. I hope, it was someone in his school and all. I don't know, I just want to know what happened after it and all…” I said, opening all my doubts.Yash looked a bit surprised. He sat silent for a while, as if, rewinding his memories spent with Shanu.“Uncle, there could not be any girl, at that stage, from our school to be precise’ he said “If you actually remember, Shanu had been in a boys school till high school. Moreover, we hardly had any lady teacher teaching us…” he revealed. How could I forget that my son was in a boy’s school? It all seemed so stupid now!“As far as Shanu is considered, he can never have a girl in his life. Even now, he doesn't have. He says he loves only one person….” And with these words…Yash went silent…Perhaps something crossed his mind. Though, suddenly, he again turned to his normal self and diverted from the topic. I could feel he was uneasy about this discussion, so I did not pester him. But, now I was sure that there was some girl, though not in school. There was someone my son loved so much and continued to do so….I had no more words to talk of…. I bid a hearty adieu to Yash and went of to my work, though it no longer interested me so much now.After few days, Yash emailed me. He had told that it was something urgent and official. This is how it goes…Dear UncleThat day you asked me about the letter and Shanu’s love. Well, that year, we were asked to write an essay on “Whom do you love most” and I should tell you that Shanu’s essay was the best. That’s the reason why its still preserved in my mail box. You can have a look at it.Whom Do you Love MostI thought of eyes, I thought of smile, I thought of dress…and with all of this, I thought of You Papa. Your eyes, hiding the pain of this being alone, your smile giving me the love I want, your dress, never ironed as mine…all says how much you love me.You made me walk, touching my little finger. You gave me the fighter planes, the cars I wanted. You never ever allowed me to sleep alone and always had me preserved in your lap. You were at times worried, what if life stole me also, that it did to mom. But I love you the most and will never ever leave you. I know, you cannot tell me all this, like other fathers do but I know that even my mother resides in you. You are my everything I ever could pray for, fight for and live for. You gave me those good night kisses and those hearty laugh which made my day. I never was a weak chap infront of you and neither were you a Hitler. You make me so very complete dear father that even of you are not there with me, miles apart, I won’t love anyone else as much as I Love you dear Papa”

Prayers do Heal

Ma’am: I am leaving for Delhi tomorrow
Me: [L]..m not there…
Ma’am: will stay for one month…Sir is not well…
Me: what happened? Wait m calling you…
Ma’am: Don't call now. I cannot talk right now! Just pray for sir. We are going for emergency check-up. Just pray dear!
Me: I love you ma’am….I will pray. For years I haven’t, but from now….I will.

***I restlessly shifted from one side to another. The scorching month of summer, the humid air and above all, I am perspiring like a pig. The entire IV-B was eagerly awaiting Sir Paul, the most craved teacher of St. Paul’s to come and announce that he was our class teacher. On boy! I loved him! Perhaps the budding writer in me knew that this English mentor, was the only person I could crave for…For two years, I had imitated his handwriting, following the curves and slants of his unique stylish calligraphy. Those who got his class were considered lucky, auspicious and the best students. Such was his craze and as I sat down, drooling over the new notebook, still smelling afresh…I kept on glancing here and there. Perhaps, no one else was waiting for him. Well, hey…I forgot to say, I am Shubhda, your friend…just a bit younger…Suddenly I saw a lady (I had never seen her before in our colossal campus), clad in sareee…entering the class, along with our section in charge. I though, she might have come for those testing classes in which the poor teacher explains a topic, in short, gives the audition of his/her teaching skills and gets marked by the grim faced devilish principal or other authorities. So sad…I thought to myself...this lady would definitely take one hour…so I have to wait for Sir Pauls’ advent. I already had a trampled marigold to gift him. I showed the disgust on my face and controlled it my making funny faces in my neighbour’s brand new copy.“Good morning children (imagine this in a monotonous sing song voice.)” said our section in charge. She was about…hmmm…thirty or so… (Can’t tell actually, m very bad at maths and figures and anything that revolves around numbers)I loved her too, because off her cool. Imagine…a whole tree falls on your new Maruti 800, not even one month old...the roar of crashing echoes in every corner of the huge campus…and you have the guts to smile…great man!!!“Well students…here is Poonam…your class teacher. She would teach you maths. Just don't be naughty and make her feel comfortable. Its her first day in school.” revealed the section in charge.I was ready for a heart attack…at the tender age of …hmmm, see, again I said, m not good at figures…may be…nine years old…My goodness! How could God do this to me? I was shattered. It was the worst thing that could have happened to me. I had prayed regularly, never left my food, always bought vegetables alone…was innocent, never harmed anyone(don't include those torturing classes I did to some younger children in my colony). Tears dwelled in my eyes. Why did this teacher, need to come in our year. She could have joined the next year…She looked young and I hated her, there and then. She teaching me maths was just another shock. I would definitely fail. As such my rank in class was 63rd…out of around 80 students…and I had promised myself that will Sir Paul as class teacher, I would improve. But God…how much I hated God!The young charming teacher, who, looked as a ideal combo of Juhi Chawala and Aishwarya Rai… (I hate Aish…)…beamed. Her smile was downright fascinating. The other girls were busy in noticing her sareee, her bangles, her long black hair…Even her spectacled eyes looked beautiful. She looked beautiful and awesome. Because I know about so many adjectives now, I can reveal her better. But right then, I cursed her. Though, Sir Paul did come during the English class (imagine…in was taught that day that darling is not for girlfriend and boyfriend only…)Days went off. Everyone praised the new teacher. She was innovative, always excited in hearing children and very affectionate. She knew me for two things. First, Shubhda is a painter. Has painted Mona Lisa when eight years old. The whole of St. Pauls’ loved me for that. And secondly, I recently had undergone an operation (The whole class had gifted me, around 43 get well soon cards).That day, I was busy in fighting with Danish, the second tallest and cute boy of your class. My fighting with guys, or with anyone, was a bit…hot! We both were literally left to snatch each others hair off…when by mistake; the poor dude pushed me a bit. I got hurt and my operated wound pained. I looked at him with abysmal pain and he gathered that he had hurt me. I clutched my waist and sat down.“Sorry Shubhda…I…did not mean to…” he tried saying. Words were not coming out of his mouth. I was imagining that my whole skirt will now be wet with blood. Miss Poonam cam running and took me to the loo. I was damn shy! She asked me to show my wound. How could I? I had never changed clothes in front of my very mother and this maths teacher, asking such an impossible thing. But some thing in her innocent eyes made me give in. My wound was not bleeding. The pain was just temporary…I smiled and she smiled too…It was the first time, someone in my small life, had cared for me.That day, the whole incident kept repeating in my mind. I smiled whenever I saw the maths teacher…perhaps, she was not that bad! I don't know how, but slowly, I waited less for Sir Paul but more for the boring, horrible, creepy and disgusting maths class.“If ever mosquito bites you, don't rub the skin very hard. That reddens the skin and loosens it. Then it’s easier for the poison form mosquito to enter in your blood.” revealed Poonam Ma’am, while I was busy killing a small mosquito and writing a big bold “S” with its blood! Yuck!My marks in maths improved. Now, I could read the pages of my maths book rather than smelling its fresh odour. My love for maths had increased so much that I kept waiting for ma’am near her hostel, secretly waiting for her glance. She made us to yoga; she even made me wear a green sareee and green flowers on the Independence Day. Every day I plucked flowers from my school (I hope my principal doesn't red this) and gift the bouquet to the section in charge. But never did I feel that I should gift ma’am also. One day when she amazingly entered my school bus, as she had to travel to my township side. The bus was jam packed. Something in me could not see her stand. I stood up and gave her seat. She took me in her lap. I did not sit properly…just acted like I was sitting, so that my little burden did not pressurise her.Even when it was her bday…the entire class was ordered to bring flowers…“And listen…we will sing happy bday to you…just as she enters.” I said, standing in front of the whole class. When she entered…she was shocked, amazed and emotional. Everyone gifted her flowers…and I gifted her whole bunch of jangli yellow flowers. There were other hand drawn comics and cards for her.“Hey Shubhda! Why do you fight with Sneha yaar? She is your best friend. You should understand that you both have a strong bonding.” contemplated ma’am. I had disclosed her mine problems, my personal life, my likes and dislikes…She talked sense and I respected her. I promised her to correct myself. I hated disappointing her.I loved painting…and she encouraged me like anything. She always said “Dear Shubhda. An artist can draw his entire life with a line. Studies will never be a burden on you.” The painter in me loved this. I gifted her Mira Bai, sceneries, Japanese girl…so much. My favourite pastimes were taking her autograph( I had already 13 of them) and gifting her cards. When she gifted me the first card, the one word which captivated me was “virtue”…I could make out that it meant quality…but it spelled better, with Ma’am giving that word in my life.When I was sad after the stupid fights with girls, based on envy, she used to say “Don’t compete with them. Let them compete with you. You are enough for yourself.” It’s amazing how life moves but words remain…lost in the universe…One day, ma’am left the school. She had to pursue her MBA (I hated this acronym)…I was lost and this time, the pain of loosing her, still feels fresh in my heart. I cried. Since she had a celebrity status in school, just like Amir Khan had in Taare Zamin par, no one liked to reveal her address. It was the top most secret. People said she would move to Calcutta. It seemed so fast, so bad and so unjust. I had not met her the last day and this pain was eating me up.I collected her address from the different autographs I took and wrote her. After one month, she replied. Oh my goodness! I danced, madly... I knew…I was lucky at last. I got her phone number, called her sometimes but out contact through long letters continued. I was very possessive about them. I had preserved them in photo albums. Earlier many students wrote her…but after one year…only I remained.I called her up, when one of her letters told that she had to break some wonderful news to me.“I am going to get married” she revealed, her words teeming with joy , anticipation and hope. “He is in army…a major..” she said…I was shocked. I started crying on phone…felt that my ma’am was going away from me. Now she would have her own kids, her own family and forget me. Anyways, with my final exams in just fifteen days …I did go for her marriage. I saw her…clad in a bride’s attire. Her beauty, her glow, her innocence, everything revealing her excitement. She looked so beautiful that I could have painted her there and then. I saw Sir, he was smart, but I did not look at him further. He had taken away my ma’am.My letters continued, with the same speed. She never delayed responding to me. I could not bear it, if she ever did.“It’s a baby boy” she revealed. I could imagine the tears of joy, which would have dwelled in her eyes. My brother( as I love him like hell), was born on 8th dec, four days after my bday. Virenn , as they called him, had a special place in my heart. Anazingly, I did not despise him. I did not have a younger brother…but now I never thought that. Even Ma’am husband, used to love and admire me. “She is different”, was all that sir said.Years, passed and Sharvik (Ma’am second son) was endowed life. We had not met, it was seven years, now… Then one day, as I joined by college in Delhi, ma’am announced she would come… with 7:30 as the evening reporting time, I ran to meet her , hardly considering the chances of me being late. I was nineteen now…Ten years have gone by.I stood at one corner of the road, checking the heavy traffic of the July evening. And suddenly I saw ma’am, sir and their two kids, crossing the road. The entire transition of these years bought tears in my eyes. I was at peace. I loved seeing the family…Again after seven months, I met them, bunking my classes. Nothing mattered to me more, not the disgusting and appalling railway station which bugs me…the crowd…the shrieks and shouts. What mattered was meeting Ma’am.I later went all alone to her place in May to meet her. I can still feel the excitement running in my veins.“I am not your teacher anymore. I am your friend, your sister, your mother.” She said. I knew this, and felt that these words were also less to describe her. My ma’am is a lady of rock hard strength.“Didi, please don't leave us and go…see I have drawn his rose for you.” Said Virenn, ma’am first son, hardly five years old. He was painting and I could remember my childhood in him. Sharvik, the younger one, was busy pushing and elbowing me, kissing me and rolling in my laps. It felt so complete. I thanked my childhood which had endowed me with the crazy love for ma’am. It was my first love of substance.Sir and ma’am have a unique chemistry. Being in army is difficult. But, the worries were always masked. They love each other and are a made for each other couple. Both are each other’s strength…..***Dear readers, the chats that began in the beginning of this blog, were what my ma’am conversed with me tonight. Things are not good at her side. She needs a lot of strength and blessings of god. I request all you to pray for her…pray for sir…pray for those innocent kids who cried knowing that their father is in the hospital. Whenever I have showed my love for her, I have showed her in tremendous amount. I want you all to join me in this prayer for her. May god bless her family! Amen!

The biggest Thing in Life

It’s said…we wait for big things to happen in our lives. And for a dreamer like me, perhaps the biggest thing is over…ie, my life. As I lay unconscious on my deathbed and my near and dear ones cry around me…with my closed eyes, I listen to the silence of my beloved. My man…He is next to me and is silently crying. For all those forty years, I had embraced him tightly, whenever I noticed tears in his eyes. But today, he perhaps, has to do it alone. My heart beats slowly and he cannot rest his head on my lap and look into my eyes. They are shut and he stands lonely, accepting what fate did to his old princess.
And suddenly my thoughts wander…wander to my past. I see a face…a tall boy, wearing purple attire…I cannot see him clearly…there is some obstruction. I see him holding a guitar; I see pictures of “Vaishno Devi.”…I then…suddenly see …myself…
I am eighteen…still in school, young and bubbly. I am not beautiful but alone. I am writing my diary, looking at the stars…listening to my favourite music(When You say nothing at all)…its perhaps 18th December. The restless me, over with the ritual of diary writing, switch on my computer (a very old model). None of my friends are online…so I shift to chatting, chatting with unknown people.
And there I met him. We became close friends…we chatted…for five minutes which turned to hours. We talked philosophy. Things, which don't exist anymore. We had the same needs, desires and thoughts…Ours was more than friendship…Perhaps, our embryonic relationship made it feel like love. It did not need a name, as we knew we had no future. But we were there, smiling and awaiting each other.
Just as young children explore the unknown, we explored each other, right from thoughts, feelings, past and history. I lived alone and desperately needed a best friend. He had everyone but still needed a best friend. We cried for listening each other, but I never made a move. We had our own failures…our own sorrows. I was not a writer, which I craved to be…he was not the success, he wanted to be. We had our families…and cared every one. But there was a absence in both of us. Perhaps, that’s why we called each other our soul mates.
We promised to meet each other after four years…It seemed so long then. We hardly knew what life would bring in then. But we assured each other, just one thing. The thing called love… We promised that even if, we don't meet, and we will still be there with each other and love each other, in our small ways. If life doesn't confer him in my life, I will find someone who is just like him. He too, promised the same.
Relations are too fragile. For the first time, when I called him after six months, he still waited for me. He played the same song (When you say nothing at all) on his guitar. I was crying but did not make it evident. The next chat had already made him practise my silence. Yes! We lived the best words unspoken. It was a ritual...the silent ritual.
If something bad happens to you, just say to yourself that it happened because you had the guts to face it. Our life had changed and perhaps had become complete. We still had not seen each other but perhaps loved each other. One day, without listening to the silence of each other, was a turmoil.
He wanted to be successful as he wanted to face his father. In spite of being one among the best, deep down, he was not in the league. Reservations had left an indelible mark on him. Even if, he was got selected into the best institute of India, he was considered outcast. I understood his pain and he understood mine. Mine were too frivolous but deep. Pain of ignorance, negligence and not being a writer.
He had to head for his home. He asked for my pic and I tested him. Things changed. His dream girl was not me! My relationship had already ended for me. Because, you don't love someone because she is beautiful. She is beautiful, so you love her. He made his distance, searching for another face. I stayed there…waiting for his returning grace. But then, he left me, saying he had asked Vasihno devi to give me courage. Everything would one day fall into its place.
For me, things had shattered…and their places had been erased. Years went by and I waited for the big thing in my life, ie, his return. His reasons were unknown and so was he. After years, when I thought about him, he seemed like a fiction story. I questioned myself whether it was my life, he was once a part of? Well, he was, perhaps…at times, the pain of loosing him was so strong that I couldn’t breathe. The next moment, my brain hardly remembered him. He was lost…we had never met…he was never again there!!! The happiness he bought in my life, got erased with the agony he conferred.
After eight years of waiting, I suddenly saw him again. Over the years, the writer in me had already reached the recognition I craved for. It seems funny, but life plays its own tricks. I was asked to write a personality profile on him. A GMAT cleared prodigy…A guy who belonged to minorities and had secured the first rank. This time, without reservations!
I faced it up and wrote about him. A writing piece which got published in the national dailies and magazines. Not to forget, his wife and his new born daughter, did have their revelations. Perhaps, the boy I loved once and perhaps still did, was hardly anymore. Life had been asking me to move on but I waited for things to get in place.
My parents married me! The decision which I hardly considered deserved my interference. My husband! When he looked at me, his eyes were shy, deep and caring. He embraced me whenever I revealed my life. He listened to this renowned writer. He was there for me. He asked me to never leave me. But I always thought about that teenage boy and still awaited the big thing to happen. Somewhere, somehow! He did not play guitar…never talked on philosophy. But remained there with me. He was a child at heart! Someone, who had also suffered a loss of deep love in life. He knew my past and I knew him. Our paths had crossed but the big thing, never did.
We had a baby daughter…and my husband called him his princess. I had now turned an old princess. My family was complete, but there was something still missing. I was happy, but I still waited. I knew, women would have been envious of my life….but I knew, I was incomplete. We say, our soul is just one. Mine was lost ten years back…
Life moved on. My husband, when not at his field (as he was in army), was always there with me. Before every war that he went for, my family cried. My daughter kept clinging to his legs, never allowed him to bid an adieu without tears.
I never allowed my daughter to be alone. She never had to look for a best friend. She had me. She never had rejections, ignorance and heart breaks. She had me. She grew and became my strength, both when my husband was there and wasnot.
Years flew by! I grew too. The biggest thing had never happened. Time moved on! My pieces had fallen to different places. I too, moved on! And there, I lie…on my death bed, after forty years of marriage…
Perhaps I was about to die…When my husband came next to me. He looked at me. I could not. I could feel his breath on my face. He said “My dear old princess…I never said you how much I loved you. Not even when I left for my battle field, feeling that I won’t return again. When I had touched you for the first time, I felt I did not deserve you. You were so soft…just like a doll. When we had our baby, I still did not look in your eyes and say that I love you…Today, as you are moving away from me….in still cannot say anything to you….The biggest things in life are left unspoken…”
With this, he took my hands…made them touch his heart and then he tenderly touched mine. It was all a silent ritual…He told me how much he did love me. My entire life raced in my life…just like a recap…
The biggest thing had happened. My soul was just next to me and I searched him in a dream for years….My biggest thing was he, who stood, silently crying for me….
I slowly opened my eyes….as I couldn’t take away the biggest thing of my husband, which he was awaiting anxiously.