"One of his tears fell in my mouth, where it became a blue sapphire, source of strength, source of strength and eternal hope." - Anita Diamant
“All of us
live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know
how to shrug the past. I think that is who I am... at least for the most part. I can still
remember moving into a new house with my husband as if that were yesterday but it
about twenty years ago. Now I have moved again after his death, to a new place
and a new life. The neighbourhood seemed promising and my flat was on the
ground floor, so I wouldn’t have to punish my knees climbing stairs everyday. I
was apprehensive about staying alone but I assured myself that things would
work out; after all my family and friends were a phone or Skype call away, I
would be fine. Besides, I didn’t want to bother people unnecessarily. The
biggest hurdle I thought I would face is killing time and trying to adjust to a
much slower pace of life at a town, having lived most of my life in a city.
Most of my old stuff and furniture had already moved in, now it was my turn to
move in physically and emotionally to this new house. I remember hesitating a
little on the day of moving in, pausing a moment at the door; the nameplate had
only one name, “Ms. Kakoli Das”.
The first few days were a
blur, trying to form a routine of everyday life, getting to know the market place,
the bus timings and of course the drudge of cooking, cleaning and
working…sometimes it would seem days were longer but shorter somehow when they
blended into a long continuous today…I finished reading book after book every month,
spending rest of the free time on the computer, or walking around the
neighbourhood…sometimes feeling a sense of alienation from reality and the
people around me…what was I doing? I have started to talk to myself quite
loudly these days, not bothering to do it quietly in my mind anymore, anyway
who would hear me, who would care? Staying alone one stops caring about some
doors but caring a bit more about few others…Slowly I got used to the solitude,
caring less about company, finding solace in my own thoughts…but the flip side is
that I dwell more and more on the past these days, some memories come rising up
from somewhere deep in my inner being, I remember things I never thought I
noticed before…” She smiled, ending her monologue with no definite ending.
“But you didn’t really answer
my question?” I said feeling a little annoyed. It didn’t seem right to be
nettled with such a sweet old lady, but I felt dissatisfied, almost frustrated.
“It is the best one I can
give you.” She said with an air of defeat. She finished her coffee and started
to leave, without so much of a good-bye. I was left alone, again, with my
thoughts. Maybe she was right; a real conversation albeit dissatisfying is any
day better than small talk, isn’t it? I signaled the waiter for another coffee.
Maybe I had framed the question wrong, I waited for someone else to join me as
I sat alone wrapped in smoke from my cigarette and coffee. An hour passed by, I was still sitting alone,
conversations from the tables nearby came floating by along with some
background noises from the street, awkward honking from rickshaws, occasional
sounds of traffic…I could feel the beginning of a headache, throbbing at my
temples, time to go…I was about to give up on my quest, when the couple walked
in. The man had an irritated look, and the girl seemed lost. The coffee house
was unusually busy for a Saturday afternoon, there were no tables free, and
serendipitously the only table they could share was mine. I motioned the waiter
for yet another coffee and sat up straight as they walked uncertainly towards
me. I smiled at them reassuringly. As they came up to me, the guy addressed me,
“Would you mind if we
shared table, the rest of the place is occupied” He spoke in a soothing
baritone, I liked him already, the female seemed jittery, I couldn’t really
place her, she looked like a nervous little bird.
“I would love some
company, please do” I gestured coming off as little too friendly. Maybe I
should try to curb my enthusiasm. He smiled again; a little uncertain this time
but they seated themselves across me.
“I am Anjan,” I said. They
introduced themselves as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Sen, without offering
any first names, I was a little surprised but decided to let it go, I still had
my question to ask them. I waited patiently for them to get comfortable, Mr.
Sen seemed very hungry as he gobbled on the omelet and toast, and Mrs. Sen grew
more uncomfortable by the minute. I was feeling the strain as well, they were
not speaking to each even, was it my presence that hindered their flow of conversation?
Or maybe they didn’t speak much, their partnership flawed, ill matched somehow?
I had to break the ice; I coughed a little too deliberately and cleared my
throat…
“Would you mind if I asked
you a question?” I said, hesitating a little. Mrs. Sen looked startled, comical
even! The husband was still busy eating, but he did look up, glancing at me
with a quizzical expression.
“I don’t know, depends on
the question”, he sounded gruff. What was their deal? I wondered but I had to
ask what I had to ask.
“How much of a role does
the past play in your life? Do you dwell in the past or you don’t really care?”
I rushed through it, realizing I had their full un-divided attention, yet maybe
some explanation was in order, since they looked as if I had asked the most out
of context, absurd question one can ask on a busy Saturday afternoon, that too
in a coffee house…
“Actually I am trying to
develop characters for my story and I was thinking of writing about memories,
how much of the memories that we have are our own, you know, since memory is
dynamic and can change over the years, in fact sometimes the memory becomes
quite different from the real incident….” I trailed off noticing the look of
disdain on the husband’s face. The wife looked even more petrified, glancing
nervously at her husband’s face and mine. The man finally decided to grace me
with an answer.
“I have no use for the
past nor your silly questions. Can a man not enjoy his coffee in peace without
being hounded by lunatic these days, really!” He looked absolutely furious.
I was about to explain my
case further, when the wife began to speak, rather querulous at first, but her
voice becoming clearer as she went on, “If I may I could try answering your
question. I am a simple girl, with not much ambition or desire. I just want to
live my life in peace. Growing up in a village with my four brothers, I learnt
how to keep out of their way and maintain my sense of peace and dignity. My
parents preferred them to me, having brought up a daughter they only wished to
get rid of me as soon as possible. I was married quite early and came to live
in this town about five years ago.” She stopped for a while, smiling wistfully,
“and I thought I had escaped my surroundings, my past and I could make a new
start, but I was wrong. Things remained the same; I was still invisible, trying
to maintain a sense of dignity and quiet. I was trying to avoid confrontation
at all costs. I have not escaped my past, my past is my present.” As she went
on talking, I couldn’t help but notice the change in her husband’s demeanor,
from being self assured and almost arrogant, he went to bewildered and
eventually deflated.
“I am glad you asked me
this question, because I had been struggling with this thought ever since, why
couldn’t I escape my past? Now I know why…” She looked at Mr. Sen.
“I am not happy, if things
don’t change I don’t think I can go on…” Some of her earlier nervousness
returned but she went on, “I am sorry for bringing this up now and here, but I
had to tell you…” Her eyes filled with tears as she finished her
monologue. I knew I had to spare them
some private moments to discuss this revelation about their relationship. I
felt awkward that I had to witness such private and raw emotions at such close
quarters, but I felt a lot more satisfied now. I stood up, excused myself, went
to settle my bill at the counter and left. It was nearly evening; the day had
ended with a burst of colours. As I walked back to my flat, watching the sky
change from rose pink to lavender and finally to indigo, I reflected on my
past. Thinking about my family, my parents and my friends, and the person I am
now…. how much I had changed, or did I change…how things change and yet remain
the same.
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