debbychaudhuri-blog - Tumblr blog

debbychaudhuri-blog · 8 years ago

Text

It spoke to me

I awoke to the feel of an icy cold whiff of air on my neck. I reluctantly opened my eyes and turned to look around. The room was dark, empty and still. I could barely see anything but I was too tired to get up and look around. I pulled the duvet over myself and went back to sleep. The room felt chilly and I woke up again, shivering. I sat up and hit the lights. The AC was broken. The window seemed to be tightly shut since the curtains were not moving. The fan hanging from the ceiling was moving at a glacial pace. I wondered why it felt like it was snowing inside my room. I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed. I went and checked the door and windows but both were closed. The room still felt very cold. I went over to the cupboard and was taking a quilt out when I felt another icy whiff on my neck, like someone was standing and breathing on it. I was petrified. It took me what felt like ages to muster enough courage to turn around. But when I did there was nothing. I must be imagining things; I thought to myself and turned to shut the cupboard. Just then, I felt it. An icy touch, almost like a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned around immediately. For a moment it felt like my soul had left my body. I couldn’t move. Then I saw it- and what I saw cannot be put into words. All I could focus on was these big green eyes that were glowing in the dark. The quilt fell off of my hands, I tried to scream but my voice choked. I couldn’t move or speak. I wanted to run and get out of the room. But all I could do was keep standing, like the eyes had hypnotized me and were holding me prisoner. Then, they started closing in on me. As 'it' drew nearer I saw the rest of its body, it was like a human form, but the whole thing looked like dense smoke. It inched closer and closer and stopped short. The eyes were looking deep into mine. The smoky figure lifted what almost resembled an arm and placed it on my shoulder. The icy touch quickly turned into an intense burning pain, like it was piercing through my body. At the very same time those green eyes started moving towards me again such that there was barely any space left between us and then I couldn’t see anymore, all that remained was excruciating pain coursing through my whole body, like I was on fire, like a million shards of ice pricked and pierced every inch of my being, like I was not myself anymore. This was what I had always imagined death to be like. I finally found my voice and cried out in pain and fear, with everything I had left. “Wake up! What’s wrong! Holy shit! Wake up!!” Joy was shaking me violently. I sat up with a jolt and found Joy and my other girlfriends staring with worried expressions. I was completely drenched in my own sweat. “Are you fine? You were screaming so bad!” Sonia started wiping my face with a wet cloth. “I’m okay. Just had a bad dream I guess”, I stood up slowly; “I’ll just splash some water on my face”. I went into the washroom and closed the shutter. I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked terrible, dishevelled. I let the water running and splashed some on my face. The cold contact instantly reminded me of my weird dream. It did not make any sense. Per haps watching too many horror flicks did this to me, I thought as I waved my thoughts aside. Then closed the tap and started drying myself with the towel. I was all wet from the sweat. As I pat my neck and shoulders dry, my top moved off my right shoulder to reveal a big black mark and I caught sight of it in the mirror. I touched the spot and wondered how I got it. Just then I remembered that was where the smoky figure had tapped me in my dream. A chill ran through my spine. I was about to run to my friends when something happened and everything went black. The last thing I remember was a pair of green eyes staring back at me from the mirror. ~D

1 note · View note

debbychaudhuri-blog · 8 years ago

Text

The love

……..”The love, that ever died, is the love that never existed.”

……“It’s been twenty years, gosh has it really been that long! How have you been? Married yet or still the independent career women with nothing to tie you down?” asked Mr. Sinha, breaking through the silence of the lonely night. “Been good”, was all that Ms. Sharma answered, wearing ‘that’ sweet everlasting smile. “How is Sheetal? And everyone else?” she spoke again, still wearing ‘that’ smile. “Oh nice, everyone’s nice back home”, as he spoke, he looked at her for the first time, first time that night, first time in twenty years, since they last met. Tonight they ran into each other accidentally, miles away from their homeland, in a posh North American hotel. Ms.Sharma and Mr. Sinha, both here for the same International Business Conference Meet, were in the hotel lobby after the meet…when they came face to face with their respective pasts. …“You still look ‘that’ stunning”, said the man, staring at her face, as ‘the moments’ flashed through his mind. “Oh please! I’m just an old woman now” and she looked at him, with eyes wide open. She only saw the shadow of the vibrant boy he was, ages ago, it seemed. The boy she ever loved…. But no she wasn’t just an old woman to him. She was what no other girl could have ever been to him. Those eyes, that he had always admired, were still ‘that’ expressive! He looked into them trying to read them….He remembered that this was what he loved to do, once. He remembered the joy he found in them, the love that was evident… He noticed a few wrinkles under the eyes... they looked really tired. She really looked a million dollars in a black office-suit, as pretty as ever. But even the all decked up look was not enough to hide the hollowness in her eyes. It seemed that anyone could take a sneak-peek at the vast emptiness in her life, through her eyes… “Nice watch there...Rolex?” said Ms. Sharma, quickly looking down, feeling hugely uncomfortable with ‘that’ gaze. “Yeah, Sheetal gifted this to me last anniversary. Rolex and Vintage”, said he. “Ah! such a lucky man.” she retorted, still looking down. …..”Lucky man? Who decides what is lucky? Who decides who is lucky?” Mr. Sinha thought in his mind “lucky is when you can have your arms around the lady you love. Lucky is when you get loved by the one you love”, and before he knew it he said aloud “Getting expensive but worthless gifts from a person who is nothing but a shadow in your life is not lucky! Never! ” …Tonight they were taking a stroll at the post midnight hotel lawn, stars watching over them from the farthest heavens. Many such evenings had they spent together before, hand in hand, matching steps together, talking, laughing, and kissing away… But this moment, it’s so similar yet so different. Mr. Sinha looked closely. Ms. Sharma didn’t walk ‘that’ walk anymore. It seemed like two familiar strangers, separated by many a light years, walked side by side…… Moments of uneasy silence later she spoke,”I’m sorry I didn’t mean….” …..”Lucky is when you are at the brink of making the worst blunder of your lifetime but somehow you are stopped “he thought to himself, while all that Ms. Sharma was telling seemed to blur out . “Lucky is when you run to hold back your love when she is walking away.” he kept thinking in his mind…and again without any conscious attempt he spoke “Lucky would be the moment when I married you and changed this life forever.”…For a moment everything stopped. Nothing moved, neither the two lonely souls, nor their earthly feet… Sometimes a single moment of recklessness can cost someone all his happiness, then and forever after. Just one moment of hatred can turn into endless lovelessness. After a long silent stare at each others’ faces, in search of answers to a host of age old questions, Ms. Sharma said “Lives have been changed forever. But changes aren’t always the way we want. We have to accept them whatsoever as life should go on anyway.” “Have you accepted it?” said he, looking deeply into her eyes in an attempt to find his answer there. And there it was, in that firm gaze, a loud, clear and most unexpected ‘Yes’. Mr. Sinha, stunned to have received such an unexpected answer, asked immediately “Does that mean you do not love me anymore?” …Their conversation got interrupted by a hotel staff who came searching for Ms. Sharma to tell her that her check out was in an hour. As the staff left, Ms. Sharma said “I’m sorry but I should get going now, I’ll have my car come in shortly. I’m leaving by the 5 o’clock flight.” And she turned back, starting to walk away. “You didn’t answer me!” he said. Ms. Sharma stopped for a second, promptly turned around and looking right into Mr. Sinha’s eyes said “No” and quickly turned and walked away. Mr. Sinha stood there, blankly looking at the silhouette of his embodied dream slowly disappearing in the dark… And there amidst the everlasting darkness, the memories came rushing to him, the memories that have been with him for the past twenty years, perhaps the only bitter-sweet memories of his life that he loved and hated all at once. He sat down where he was standing while he started having the flashback of the days he so wished he could go back to. The days when a certain young lad named Vedant Sinha was head over heels in love with Radha Sharma. How they met for the first time at a common friend’s family event, and how they paper-danced as a couple, and how they had fallen for each other, tip-toe dancing on a paper piece. Right from the first minute he saw her, all he wanted to do was be with her forever after. He remembered how they would run to each other at every little opportunity they got. How they met up just anywhere they could and the uncountable happy moments they had spent together, aimlessly walking around, talking about anything under the sun….He remembered how complete they would be with each other, how unusually happy…….. ”Sir I’m sorry to disturb you but you’ll have to get up now as lawn maintenance shall be underway shortly” said an unknown voice from behind. Mr. Sinha looked back and saw a huge white man with a huge lawn mower standing and staring at him, probably wondering what such an overly well dressed man, wearing a shiny coat, was doing, sitting on the trimmed grass at 4 in the morning. “Of course” he said as he got up and headed for his room. He took the card from the reception, went straight to his room, locked himself up, He set an alarm for 4:45 a.m. and then threw himself on the bed. As he lay there, a feeling of hollowness and self-pity engulfed him, when he started to remember the events that led to this strange fate of that ever strong and undying love… The increasing quarrels, the no-talking phases had become common in the past two years of their togetherness….’Sometimes two people have been together so long and so close, it becomes almost impossible to see the other person anymore…Much like the case with a book which you cannot read once you hold it too close to your eyes’…were the words he read he can’t remember where. “Maybe that is what exactly happened with us.” He said to himself ,”we held each other so close for so long that all we could see was our own projection. We just stopped treating the other person as an individual.” Somewhere in the middle of his introspective and philosophical thoughts, he started feeling pity, for Radha, and most of all for the mess he made of his near-perfect life. He got reminded of Radha’s stunned eyes the second last time he saw her...That was the second time that he had walked away during a heated argument on the road, abandoning her in the middle of nowhere...He had never hated himself this much…Never in the past forty-five years of his life…. And then….the last time he saw her….at his wedding reception, 5months later. He wondered how things turned that way, how he agreed to get married, how he didn’t take her calls for a week, after which she stopped calling. How he never called her back because he didn’t want to stoop in front of a girl anymore. How he dragged a fight so long that its aftermath destroyed everything forever… How he decided that it would be impossible to live with a career-obsessed, stubborn girl like Radha, and walked out on her. He remembered the last time he ever spoke to her was when she called him to congratulate him after receiving his reception invite. How Radha came to his wedding with other friends of his, and her last words echoed in his years “ Best wishes for your new life” with eyes firmly looking into his, as if asking him ‘how could you ever do this’. She looked stunning in a red-white saree, like a mirage, emerging out of nowhere and then vanishing instantly. ‘How could you do this…how could you… how’ he almost fell asleep, when the alarm cried out...almost like telling him ‘wake up from the nightmare and go grab your dream! This is your last chance! ’ He leapt out of the bed, unlocked and quickly ran to the reception to stop Radha. He came down, people all around but there was no sign of his Radha. “Excuse me sir!” he heard someone call out from the back. He turned around and saw that one of the receptionists was gesturing at him, calling him to her station. As he reached the reception the lady enquired if he was Mr. Vedant Kumar Sinha, and then handed him a letter that “the Indian lady who checked out half an hour ago” left for him at the reception deck. For a moment Mr. Sinha felt absolutely nothing. He could not really process what the receptionist told him and he kept standing there. “This way Sir” said the receptionist pointing at the elevator. …..Holding the many pieces he was shattered into, together, Mr. Sinha opened the letter as he entered the elevator, life all around him…but he felt like he was the only one there…everything else was dead for him..Amidst all the noise around and the silence within him, he started reading in his mind…

“Ved, I know you wanted to see me but I hate goodbyes. Love is an undying emotion. It never leaves us. Its expression might change, just like the people in it do, but that’s that. I have and will always love the Ved that u were, twenty-two years ago, when we first met, no matter what the fate of our love has been. But I can’t love you…a married man with a beautiful family...I do not have the right to… Sometimes some of our decisions change our lives in ways we cannot fathom, like what happened with us. But we have to adapt to the changes whether we like it or not. I am forever yours…I will live forever in your memories. But I want you to get back to the life that you now have... Sheetal is a wonderful lady. Sometimes you have to learn to love someone for good... So should you. You are still stuck with your dreams. Open your eyes and look at the beautiful reality you have. Let go of your past and embrace your present… open your heart to the love of your family… As for me…I am forever in love with the moments we shared and that’s enough for me to live with. But I need you to get on with your life; like I have…accepting whatever happened. Best wishes forever after, Radha...”

As soon as he finished the letter, the elevator’s doors opened. He had reached his destination. As he walked down the corridor, he reached for his wallet. He took a look at the photo of his wife and twin daughters his wife had put in his wallet ages ago…that was the very first time after it was put that he actually looked at it. He had never felt so attached to his family ever before…. He felt far away from home for the first time in twenty years…and much estranged how the ever familiar stranger of his life…his dream made him fall in love again, with his family…with his responsibilities….with his present…with life…and with her memories… “Hello Sheetal…..”He went on, as he entered his room…

#love #seperation #relationship

0 notes

debbychaudhuri-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Don’t Hangout with Strangers

“Hey!”

My eyes were barely focusing. I felt a cold splash of water on my face.

“Here, have some”, someone was pouring cold water into my mouth. I quickly gulped it down. It made me feel better. I tried to move.

“No no, lie still. It’s okay. I got you.”

I was feeling less dizzy now. “I’m sorry”, I didn’t know what I was apologizing for though.

As I started to sit up, I felt a sharp pain in my belly. There was blood everywhere. I had got my period.

I looked at the man who was still holding onto me, supporting me. I recognized him now. He was the guy from the ‘forbidden house’. I got uneasy. My situation and my companion were both responsible for that. I tried to get up in a hurry but instantly fell back down.

“Whoa, easy. I won’t bite”, his hands grew firmer around me.

“Not so sure about that”, I immediately regretted saying the words. I always had a problem that way, I always blurted out the wrong thing at the wrong time. I was looking at him blankly, thinking about all the things people, me included, said about him. A few seconds of awkward silence later he helped me stand up. I broke free from his hold and tried to walk but fell flat on my face. My head hit the edge of the pavement and everything went dark.

I woke up in a dark and dingy room. My head and belly both were hurting badly. I moved carefully, slowly sat up. My head felt light.

As I steadied my eyes I realized there was a light still on somewhere in the room. Per haps it was my state that made everything around seem extra dark.

“Oh good you’re up! Here, have this you’ll feel better.” He brought a steaming hot bowl of something and set it down on the bed, by my side. “You must be hungry…” I was too weak to say anything. I picked up the spoon and started on the soup even before he finished saying what he was saying. It was chicken broth actually and it was yum! I realized I had been famished. I emptied the bowl in no time.

I set the empty bowl with the spoon aside and looked up at him. He was watching me, probably this whole time but I was too busy feeding myself to notice.

“Umm sorry that’s awfully rude of me. My name...”

“I know who you are.” I said, rather rudely. Oh, the irony.

He fell quiet again. “I’m sorry I did not know where you lived and I couldn’t leave you alone on the road. There aren't that many people around this early in the day…"

“You say that to all the girls you pick up?” Damn my mouth. The headache was making me more irritable and vile than necessary.

Awkward silence again. I was looking down but I could feel his eyes on me. After a long uneasy pause he spoke again, “There’s the bathroom. You can clean up there. I’ll leave you to it.” He got up, picked up the empty bowl and spoon and started to leave. “Oh, umm this…” I kept looking down, mostly out of shame because of the bitch that I was being to him. He put something wrapped in a paper bag beside me.

“I’d be happy to escort you home “, he said as he got out the door and shut it.

I got up slowly. I found a switchboard beside the bed and hit the switch marked ‘L’ with black tape. The room came into bright light. I looked down at the bed and noticed I had smeared and wasted his bed sheet. Shit! I picked up the paper bag. Looking inside, I found a pack of sanitary pads. “Where had these come from?” I wondered."Whatever!" I slowly made my way to the bathroom. It took me exactly 3 steps. The light was already on. I cleaned up, splashed a good amount of water on my face. The pain was gone. Both my head and belly felt better. “If only I could feel better on the inside”, I thought.

As I stepped back into the room, I noticed the room was small but it was not dingy at all. Miniature paintings and wall hangings tastefully adorned the white walls. There was an AC on the wall right above my head. A modest wrought iron double bed sat almost in the middle of the room, with a small wooden bedside dresser table. There was an orange bean bag at the other corner, by a wooden window. Above it was a modern bookshelf, probably DIY I reckoned, with a few books on them. Any other time I sure would have checked out what books they were, but not today.

“Hmm, Cute”, I thought.

I got to the door and tried to open it but it was locked from the other side. I knocked on it. No one answered. I started banging on the door. Still no answer. I started to panic. I called out for help. I don't think anyone heard me. No one answered in spite of everything. In that moment everything I heard about this man started coming back to me!

He had moved into the locality barely a year ago. A few months after that we heard he was charged for assaulting a girl. We expected him to leave but to our surprise he did not. More than that, we were surprised that his landlord had not kicked him out. No one wanted him here anymore. Everyone was upset but nothing concrete was done since the charges against him could not be proved, or so I heard. All the girls in the locality however, were warned off that house. We always avoided that route when we were alone and took frequent detours if this place was to be crossed on our way.

My ears started feeling hot and my palms started to sweat. Shit sandwich! I went over to the window and tried to open the wooden doors. They were jammed. Looked like it had not been opened in forever. I tried with all my strength to push it open but the doors would not budge. Dammit!

I started to look for my phone instinctively. My pockets were empty. I looked under the bed, turned over the mattress. Still no phone. I went into the washroom to see if I left it there. Just then I remembered I had forgotten my phone at my room that morning while I left my girl's PG for a quick jog around the block. Officially the worst day of my life!

Okay. I needed a plan. The adrenaline was making my heart beat so fast I thought it would leap out of my chest. “Steady steady! Think!” I started looking around still not knowing what was it I was looking for exactly! I sure was not going to become this monster's next victim!

Suddenly my roving eyes caught the sight of a cleaning stick. I took it up. It was hard plastic. This will have to do I thought. I quickly went out into the room and stood by the door. I pushed it one last time to see if it would unlock. Just then I heard footsteps approaching from the other side.

“Here's my chance”. I heard the knob turn. I positioned myself by the door and held up the stick end. As the door opened I closed my eyes and delivered a terrible blow.

I heard him scream before I saw him fall to the floor, there was blood streaming from his forehead. I did not know why I immediately did not flee. I should have. Instead I looked down, probably to see how he was taking the lesson I just taught him. Next I noticed spilled coffee on the floor, a broken red plastic mug, a pack of biscuits. I looked at him. He was still groaning.

"What did you think you were going to do to me! Keeping me locked up here! You scumbag! Burn in hell!" I screamed, raising the stick again to deliver another blow!

Just as he heard those words, he stood up like he had forgotten about the wound or the pain, like my words hit some other invisible wound which was deeper and much more painful. He looked me square in the eye. I realized he was much much taller than me, and stronger. He could finish me with his bare hands. "Enough!” his voice was deep and emotionless. “I only tried to help you. I could have left you alone on that road like the others who just looked at your bloody clothes and passed you by. I brought you along to keep you safe. If you think I am lying then go ahead hit me", he stood his ground, not moving a single inch. His steely gaze was petrifying. The cleaning stick fell off my hands. I was scared shitless. If he was really the monster we thought he was, I'm dead. But something felt wrong.

He stood there looking at me for a few more seconds and then quickly went off. I wanted to leave, I started out the door when I saw him come back. He was carrying a piece of cloth. He sat down and started cleaning up the mess. By now, the blood dripping from his forehead had wet his T shirt. I got a closer look at it. It looked deep and painful, about an inch above his right eyebrow. Any closer and I would have damaged his eye for sure. He seemed not to care about anything, neither the blood, nor the pain.

I just stood there watching him clean the floor. "If you were only playing savior, why did you lock me up?" I asked.

"I just went to get biscuits. There’s this shop just at the end of the lane, not five minutes away. The door must have auto locked. I made some coffee and saw I had nothing else to go with it so.."his words disappeared.

I did not know what I was doing still standing there and talking to this man. But I continued, "So why be so generous with some girl you only just met? Soup and now coffee.."

He got visibly irritated and stood up again, "Look I know what all of you think of me. I hear everything everyone says about me. It was my mistake, I should not have done all this. Helping girls gives them the wrong signals I guess."

He turned away again and went into the wash. I could hear the water running. The door was open; I stood beside it and kept up on my inquiry, “So what happened?"

In my mind I was kicking myself! 'Whatever happened get out of here now!' my inner cautious self was screaming. Against my better judgment, I stayed.

He had not yet answered. He washed the blood off his face and turned to me, pressing a towel to the gash. "Whatever happened does not matter. I understand why you did what you did. You look like you are feeling better. You can leave. I don't think you would want someone like me to escort you. I'll get you something if you stay afar or are too weak to walk."

"I do not understand. If you’re not who they say you are then who are you”, It was more like a question to me. Here we all were judging away to glory without really knowing anything about anything.

"Even if I told you it would not make a difference. People only believe what they want to", he passed me and went over to his bedside table. He pulled out the drawer and got out some cotton and anti septic and went back into the washroom and stood before the mirror on the wound.

I was beyond confused, and I felt a pang of guilt. "You should probably have that looked at," how nice to hear that from the very person who put it there, I thought.

"Thanks for your concern, I will", his voice was dripping with sarcasm. In some way, I was glad he saw the humor in this too.

" Oh it's only a little wound. You are pretty big, should be nothing for you", damn damn my mouth! Tongue in cheek moment.

He turned and looked at me, stunned! He was kinda good-looking, I thought. "Seriously!" screamed my inner rational self. I quickly reigned in my thoughts.

"Sorry, I make inappropriate comments sometimes...” he cut me off saying "Evidently."

He was responding to my sarcasm with his. Our situation had done the trick of breaking the ice I guess. Sure it could not get any more awkward and weird than this between two complete strangers!

"Here, let me help. Least I can do as payback", I moved to help him with the wound. "Is that very painful?", it sure looks like it is. I was all focused on applying antiseptic on the cut. He was looking down.

"It's nothing compared to the others", we looked each other in the eye for the second time. I realized what was so unnerving about his gaze as I looked deep into his large, round, dark brown eyes. They were sad but honest and unapologetic. And very steady.

He quickly looked down again. " Done", he turned away the moment i uttered the words and started to go. I noticed he was in his running gear. He must have been out jogging too. I ran almost every morning on the same trail. But I had never seen him run. He had big square muscular shoulders. ‘He seems kind of nice’…’Oh no forbidden territory, come back’, I decided the only way to quiet my obviously crazy thoughts was to make more meaningful conversation.

I washed my hand and moved behind him. "Sorry about the bed sheet. And about the things I said. And everything before and aft..", he cut me off again "Don't worry about it".

I noticed my shoes under the bed. He must have taken them off. "So you did not..um..i mean..", I did not know to put it so it seemed least offensive.

"I did not rape, try to rape or even feel like raping anyone ever. I take it that's what you are getting at", he said, while he removed the blood stained sheets off his bed.

"So what happened?", I was probing too much but I felt I just couldn't let this go.

"Why do you want to know?" He was exasperated with my constant questions.

"Why will you suffer if you did not do anything wrong!" I was louder than I intended to be.

He paused. "She was a friend of a friend. We were seeing each other for a while. Arun, our common friend, he tried to warn me about her a few times. I chose to ignore it" he turned to look at me and went on, "I'll leave the details out. We were about to complete six months. I thought I would pay her a surprise visit on the day. Instead she surprised me. I caught her in bed with her ex, who as it turns out, was not actually her ex. She had been cheating on me with him for a long time. I left without anything. Next thing I know, cops were pulling at me, saying Anita had pressed attempted sexual assault charges on me."

I couldn't bear to look at him anymore. I started recalling all the names we called him, and his mother. All the things people in general used to say about him.

"They investigated and found out it was a false charge. Anyway, the damage had been done."

"But why didn't you tell anyone?" I knew the answer that was coming.

"No one believed me. No one except Arun and few of my friends. I lost my job.Even my own father disowned me. Only my mother seemed to know I couldn't do this." He was looking down now. "My friends convinced my landlord that I was 'harmless' and of 'good character'. He agreed to let me stay somehow, but only because of the money I guess 'cause the hate and contempt was very evident in his behaviour."

In that moment I wanted to disappear. Bury myself deep beneath the earth and just never have to see eye to eye with him again. How wrong it was of me, of all of us to constantly hold men responsible and to judge every thing we hear based on just one side of the story, more like one page of an entire book!

I was having a hard time making sense of it all. “But why press false charges?” ‘Oh stop it already, let the poor guy breathe’, screamed my head.

“To have an upper hand I guess. I mean Arun told me she tried to do something similar with another guy and he begged with her to withdraw charges and she had obliged in exchange for some money” , he looked at me again, “Must have thought I would do the same, but instead I urged the police to investigate. So when they dug further the charges were proved false. “

I stood there gawking. This felt like some overdone movie plot. But this was real. I went on “So this Anita…” the name was hurting my ears more than the story, “where’s she? Did the cops get her?”

“She fled Delhi. The police informed me that her apartment was empty and she was nowhere to be found. I guess they would have pursued a thorough search if I pressed counter charges but I didn’t. I…” “What?” I screamed out before he could finish. He was looking at me, a little shocked. “Why didn’t you press counter charges? I mean this girl ruined things for you!” He spoke after a few moments; his voice was small, “I don’t know. I just did not want to.”

The room was starting to suffocate me. There was too much gloom and disappointment in the air. A change of topic would help. "So what do you do for a living now?" I asked. I genuinely felt responsible and wanted to help.

"Arun and I jointly started up a business. ERP softwares. We wanted to do it sometime in the future. But with everything that went down, he thought it was time. As it is I lost my job. The story was in a few papers too. No company was ready to hire me with a record like that. At least not immediately."

"But the charges were proved false!" I blurted out.

"There is always doubt. In our society more often than not, the girl gets the benefit of the doubt, no offence", he said, ever the gentleman.

“Funny you would say that", I looked at him for a quick second and saw him smile.

"Your name's Abhay right?" I asked, dreading his response to what I was about to say next.

"Yeah. I should be happy to know how famous I got within just a year here", he smirked.

"I'm..Err...” okay here goes nothing, "I'm Anita by the way". My eyes shut anticipating his response. I was getting ready to be kicked out.

Instead I heard him say in an amused voice "Oh please, not again!"

I immediately looked at him, relieved and we broke into a laugh.

This is for all the good men in our lives and in this world. Men who champion us, love us and support us. Love and Respect.

�7h��c

#against discrimination #its not always the man's fault

0 notes

debbychaudhuri-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Hidden Letters

Severely jet lagged from my 17 hour hopping flight, I kept tossing and turning in bed. The world seemed different. Everything was unfamiliar, and some parts uncomfortable. From the bed that I slept on to the room I was in, everything seemed and smelled alien. It had been ages since I was last here, twenty-two years, to be exact. It would take some adjusting; I thought to myself and tried to force myself to sleep. The night was quiet.

This place, this house that I grew up in, was now strangely unknown to me. Everything was the way I remembered it, but nothing was the same. As I lay on my bed, with a pillow over my head instead of under in hopes that it would somehow put me to sleep, memories started flooding. I remembered how much I loved this room, my room back when I was a little girl. The big open windows with flowing yellow curtains, the wind chime clinking at the edge of the window, the blue walls. A very hazy memory came to me, that of waking up to the sound of creaking windows in the morning in bed to the sight of my mom smiling at me, her silhouette forming a solid line against the sunlight, and part of her face radiant as she moved the curtains to the sides. I didn’t remember how old I was then. In fact, I did not know if it even was a real memory or just a dream.

A sudden thud startled me. I jumped out of bed, throwing off the pillow and hit the lights instantly. My small backpack that was stacked on my big trolley had fallen off. No biggie. As it was, I wasn’t getting any sleep and I hated lying on bed idly. I looked at the big ugly clock on the wall, it was quarter past two.

I had landed in the city, my city, The City of Joy that I loved so much and cried so bad while leaving so many years ago, two hours back. Then I took a cab to the suburbs to my paternal house. Looking out the car window on my way here, I watched the city streets pass me by, as empty as I remembered them from years ago.

The past two days had passed in a daze; I was at work that Friday morning, busy prepping the models for my upcoming showcase, looking forward to a wonderful weekend getaway when I received the call. Amma, our old housekeeper had somehow managed to make a call from my mother’s cell phone, presumably with some help from her daughter to let me know my mother had been taken severely ill and was being taken to the hospital, that if I wished to see her one last time I should come as fast as possible. I was reluctant. I hadn’t spoken to my mother very much after my father passed away in a horrific plane crash, which was seven years ago. I never really wanted to have any more connection to that house or my mother after that. I somehow felt I was done with my roots. I hadn’t kept a track of how long we hadn’t spoken or how she was. Still I agreed to be there. I packed my things quickly with the help of my wonderful roomy from my wonderful shared studio apartment and boarded the next available flight.

My mother was a stern and harsh woman, for as long as I could remember. She sent me away from home, from her to boarding in Kurseong when I was barely five. She did all this while my father was away, on work probably. Dad tried to stop her after and bring me back, reasoned with her and even fought her but she would not budge. Like a stone she uprooted me from my home and threw me away without an ounce of guilt or sorrow. I remembered how I cried hugging Bee, my teddy. My mother never came to see me off to the boarding or visited after. My Dad would sometimes come to see me, take me out to eat or to watch movies and then get back home. Mom had apparently instructed the school authority to not let me be back home even during term breaks. I could never make sense of her sudden indifference towards me. I did not need to. I hated her since.

I stood in one corner of the great big room, looking around aimlessly. Nothing had changed. The same bed, the same mirror on the wall, the same big cupboard, every piece of furniture was the same, a little worse for wear, yet spanking clean. I remembered Amma saying the room was cleaned every day, though otherwise locked up and that no one was granted access to it except my mom. Finding nothing better to do, I started to make my way to the kitchen to get me some snacks. Food seemed a good option to pass time. I opened the door trying to keep it as quiet as possible and emerged into the great hall. The kitchen was on the other end of it. A little light glowed in one corner. Nothing of the huge empty house was visible in the light except the silhouette of Amma and her daughter sprawled across the little bed on the other side. Switching on the lights would wake them up, which was totally cruel and unnecessary, I thought. Since I couldn’t walk over to the kitchen in the dark, given that I did not know my way around this place, I went back into my room and shut the door behind me.

The silence all around, and my bobbing headache coupled with the lack of sleep and boredom were killing me. I needed a distraction. So I decided to rage my cupboard. As expected, it was locked. Frustrated I started to look for the key. I don’t know why but the first place I looked was under the devilishly heavy old mattress and found an old key there. As I put it in the cupboard’s keyhole, it unlocked. I opened the old wooden doors to find Bee sitting inside, as good as new, like it was just yesterday I hugged it last. I instantly took it out and gave it a hearty squeeze, smiling gleefully. Who knew finding an old toy could bring one such pure joy! I set Bee down on my bed and started going through the shelves that were otherwise empty aside from a few quilts and blankets. As I looked under them, I found a host of albums which I deemed were my family albums. Along with the albums, I found a mysterious small carton. I set the albums aside, and opened the box. Inside it were a few loose photos, mostly mine as a kid, an old diary and a stack of letters.

I opened the diary first. It was my mother’s, from before she married my father. It contained paper cuts of different embroidery designs, sketches, pictures of her favorite actresses wearing lovely sarees, a few pictures of herself in her early days. “Damn, she was gorgeous!”, I thought to myself. It also contained old lace and fabric swatches. I never knew my mom was into designing and dressing, considering I was her daughter. I made an entire career out of it.

Next I took out the letters. I opened one and started to read.

“Pi,

You are six years old today! It’s your first birthday away from home and from me. I am so sorry to do this. I am dying to see you and hold you but it is better this way. One day I hope I can tell you why.

-Maa”

Some of the alphabets were smeared I noticed. I reckoned it must be from tears. I quickly put it away and opened another.

“Pi

It is your tenth birthday! I wish I could see how beautifully my daughter is growing up! I wish I could kiss your face and hug you and never leave you again. I hope someday I will have you with me to love you like I want to. Bless you.

-Maa”

The next letter read-

“Pi my Pi

You are fifteen. My baby is growing up and how. I saw your photo in a copy of your school magazine they sent me. I am so proud of you. You are doing so well in academics! Your teacher told me you sketch very well and you want to be an artist. Be whatever you want to be my child. If only I could hug you once! Maybe one day.

-Maa”

And another-

“It’s your eighteenth birthday. You are an adult! You got into London College of Fashion I hear, like you wanted to! Be the best and do your best. I know my girl can do anything! When your father broke the news I cried with joy. I wanted to talk to you, but I stopped myself. It’s not yet time. I miss you very much!

-Your Maa”

I didn’t realize when I had started to cry myself. I broke into soft sobs. I noticed there were only two more letters left. I was sad but more than that, I was confused. Why had she written to me so sporadically and if she loved me so much why is it she never posted any of these letters. And if that seemed like too much work, why not talk to me over calls! My father kept steady touch with me. He urged me to come home so many times, only I never did because I was too used to my independent solitary life by then and was busy hating my mother. Putting my thoughts aside, I took a deep breath and read the next letter.

“Pi

I am so sorry I am not with you. I know your father’s death was a huge shock to you. I know you are a strong girl but I am still sorry I cannot be there to hug you my baby girl. I know you have suffered a lot but it was for the best. I know you loved him dearly. I hope one day soon you will come home and I can tell you everything I want to. Be strong. I pray I see you soon.

-Maa”

I came to the last letter. I noticed this one was fairly fresh and had a couple of papers pinned together. Time for some answers, I thought in my mind. As I opened the letter the first thing that struck me was the wobbly handwriting. Never mind, I read on-

“Pi

I called you many times to get your address but no one answered. Perhaps because I never called you from my cell before and the number was strange and unknown. I hope you read this soon. I do not think I have much time and I want to answer your questions before I leave. I don’t know if you remember but as a kid you loved me the most. You followed me around the house all the time, wherever I went. When you were smaller you cried if I was out of your sight for more than a few seconds. But then things changed. I changed them on purpose. I know you have hated me all your life. But no mother in her right mind would want to tear her child away from her; it is like tearing your heart away from your body. Perhaps you will know it one day when you have a child. It fills me up with regret to know that I will never see that day.

Your father has been gone for five years now. I know you loved him and looked up to him but it is time you know the truth. Your father was a devil in the disguise of a man. He was not only torturous and immoral but also filthy, sadistic and perverse. He tortured me both physically and mentally for years. He raped me on the first night of our wedding. And then it continued. I had no one to turn to as your grandfather was very conservative and stern and your grandmother and your paternal grandparents were long dead. Your father was always cautious not to leave any visible marks on me. I went on with it. He forced himself on me even when I was pregnant with you. I had no option but to endure it. During the last few months of my pregnancy, till a few months after you were born, I was at your grandfather’s so I had some relief. But it started again after I got back. I kept spending my days quietly. My only solace was the time I spent with you, my world. Then one day, just before your fifth birthday I saw your father do things to you. In that moment I knew I had to get you away, as far away as possible where your father could never get hold of you, even if that meant never seeing you again.

I wrote letters to you when I could because it felt very close to being able to talk to you. But I never talked to you or sent out any of my letters because I knew my indifference and cold behavior was the only thing that was keeping you away. I could not have you come back. Your school co-operated with me when I asked for their help and they helped me save you. I was always secretly in touch with them. They told me everything I needed to know about you.

I am tired after so many years of fighting. My body is broken. I am ready to go. I want to go. My only remaining wish is to see you once, to hug you and talk to you. We can never make up for what we lost, what you lost. But it helped make you the person that you are today and I am so proud of you for that. You are safe and happy, that is what helps me sleep.

I am waiting to see you very eagerly. If you do not make it in time, everything you need to know is in a box that Amma will give you. Please come back once.

-Maa”

My body felt heavy, my legs went fluid. I was shaking. I could no longer stand upright. I collapsed onto the bed. Anger soon gave way to inconsolable tears. I wept my heart out. I was angrier at myself than my father, at how I had left my mother all alone, how I never tried to reach out to her. I lay on bed hugging Bee tightly and pressing my mouth to it to muffle my sobs. I felt tired, like my body was made of air.

I woke up to the hustle bustle of life around me. I felt like I was not a part of anything. I rubbed my eyes and look at the clock. It was almost ten o’clock. I leapt out of bed, took a quick shower and got dressed in no time. As I left my room, Amma stopped me for breakfast. She was the only housekeeper we ever had and had been here forever. I realized she must have known at least something about all that happened. I was leaving without answering. Instead, I quickly asked her what she knew about my mother and father. Her daughter was helping her. Hearing my question, she gestured her girl to go clean my room instead. In the very little time we had she told me bits of how she would console my mom when she cried and aided her when she was ailing or in trauma. She told me how my father would beat her up and she hushed it all up so I would never find out. Amma was the only mother figure my mother had in her life. She told me how much mom loved me and how much it pained her to see me leave and before she got really sick how she always prayed something would bring me to her. She told me the innumerable number of times my mother had to be hospitalized for heart issues in the past many years, and how she battled with depression silently for years. Tears welled up both our eyes. The more I heard it all, the more guilt ridden I got. Finally, we left together to see my Maa.

I barely recognized the old woman I saw laying on the hospital bed. If she was asleep or just resting with her eyes shut, I could not tell. The moment she saw me, she was beaming. Even in her fragile state, her happiness was evident. I couldn’t stop myself any longer. I hugged her and started weeping.

“Pi..” was all she could manage to say from under her oxygen mask. I kept crying. I could not let her go.

“Maa...I know..I know..everything..I’m so sorry. I’m here I won’t leave you ever again”, I said, still clinging to her.

Amma was watching us, weeping. I calmed myself somehow, took a deep breath and finally spoke “Maa..I’m here. I know everything. And I am not ready to let you go. You will never be alone again. I’m sorry but I will not waste time apologizing.” She was still beaming.

She lifted her fragile hands and I held them in mine, tightly. “You are coming with me. No more staying apart.”

Barely breathing, she asked “Where?”

“Home”, I said.

��Y�/

#againstabuse #domesticviolence #mother daughter #morepowertowomen

0 notes

debbychaudhuri-blog · 8 years ago

Quote

Nothing happens until the pain of remaining the same outweighs the pain of change

Arthur Burt

The sun was so bright it lit his face up like a festive night. One look at him and it was like no amount of sorrow could ever cast a shadow upon me anymore. Upon us. He is my happily-ever-after!

…….“Ma, look!” Lily’s voice tore through the silence and woke me up. I hadn’t realized when I had fallen asleep on the grass.I often had this dream, this same dream over and over, perhaps because it was one of those very rare, happy and reassuring moments I had in my life. We were in the little park at the backyard of our bungalow, Lily and I. It was our little ritual. Something we did every day, without any of the helps or any one whosoever around. I would watch her run around the park. She would tell me about her day thus far, school and other things. I would get away from my work and everything else in the real world and get lost in her, play with her.

“Look, Look Ma! Its sooo pretty! It’s so colorful! ” I looked at my little girl. Lily had caught a butterfly. I could feel the wonder in her voice; see the excitement in her eyes. She called me ‘Ma’ only when she was out-of-the-worldly happy.

People said Lily looked just like me. Only I knew how much she looked…and talked like her father.

Life, for me, had unfolded in ways I had never imagined. Ruthless, unnerving at times. But it has given me enough reasons to be grateful. The biggest reason standing not one foot away from me right now, I thought.

Lily was almost five. Funny thing is, I never planned on having her. And she came to me, uninvited, at a time when things were majorly falling apart for me. But then, I think, that is how miracles happen. You cannot plan it and you don’t believe in any such thing either until it is right there in front of you.

Her father never heard of her coming. He passed before that. He passed way before we could get enough of each other, before we could exchange rings or vows. It was on this very day, six years ago. I could only imagine how happy and proud he would have been to see what we made together. All the moments after him, leading up to the birth of Lily were mine and mine alone. All the pain and joy and anxiety and angst, the really special moments to the really unsure times, all that we dreamt of having together had been only mine. From passing college to setting up my business to the birth of Lily, all the failures and successes, I did it all alone.

“Ma I want wings. I want to be a butterfly!” Lily said as she watched the butterfly fly away.

…..Mom was in a tizzy. I had finally broken the news of my pregnancy. “What on earth is wrong with you? You cannot keep the baby! You are so young! It has no father!” My mother stood over me.

I sat quietly working on my presentation. I had been at it for months, preparing it the best I could. It had been a month since Dhruv passed in a bike accident. I was in trauma for days. I cried myself to sleep every night. A week after that I found out I was three weeks into my conception. Everything changed for me from that moment on.

I had been working a lot ever since. It was the only way I could keep myself sane with all the grief and shock and anxiety of the pregnancy catching up. I had been trying for a long time to get Angel investment firms or individuals give me an opportunity to present my business idea. Finally, things seemed to be working out a little for me on the professional front. A few professional connections helped me get an appointment with a firm. It was a make or break opportunity for me.

My mother, getting no reaction from me whatsoever, left my room leaving the door ajar. I knew what she was trying to do. As expected, she went straight to my father. “I told you she would ruin everything one day. You let her believe she could fly. I should have clipped her wings long before. See what she has done. See the madness! She will go down and take us with her! I told you so...I told you” and she broke into a sob. My father did not say a word. He and I had always shared this bond. He could see through me as I could see through him. We never spoke anything beyond the bare minimum and yet he understood me more than anyone ever did.

….“Baby girl you are a butterfly. You have wings too. Only you cannot see it. ”, I said, as I went on to hold her little hand. “Can you see it Mommy?” Lily asked. “No darling. I can’t. No one can. ” I said, revelling in the warmth and feel of her little hands on mine.

….I woke up with the feeling of warmth on my forehead to find my father sitting next to me on the bed. I rubbed my eyes and started to sit up. I looked at the table clock. It was 8 o’clock in the evening. “Are you feeling fine? “Dad asked, touching my forehead again to see if I had a fever. “I was just tired. How long have you been sitting here? When did you get home?” I asked, trying to get my laptop from atop the table beside the bed. “A while. I wanted to talk to you if you weren’t too busy.” I looked him in the eye and sat still leaving the laptop alone. He started “Firstly, about your Mum, I’m sorry. She has your best interests at heart. She is just…” “Scared, I get it.” I said. “Yes. She does not understand you.You are different. Not like her. Not like anyone”, he went on. “What is so different about me? That I want my child born with no man in my life? ” I asked. Dad shook his head. “You are not scared like she is. Let me put it this way…You don’t fear the unknown but you welcome it. She is scared of your free spirit.” I could not help but smile. He kept going “What I came here to ask you is that…” his hesitation was evident in his body. He came closer and took my hands in his and held them firmly. It was unlike him. “Dad, I want this. I can do this. I know this seems very hard. And maybe it is. But I am strong enough. I do not need a man. I have had my fill and I will never need another man in my life. I can do it on my own” I spoke up before he even asked me. He looked harder into my eyes. He looked pained. I moved closer and hugged him tight, like I used to as a little girl. He hugged me back. “I am not in pain Dad. I just miss him…a lot. But I am not in mourning” I said. “I am just trying to understand your decision..” and before he could go on, I cut him off midway and started talking. “I know I did not want all this, kids and a huge wedding like most girls do. But something has changed. I did not plan things this way. But what I’m doing feels right Dad. This baby is all I have left of him and I want it in my life.” He let me go and stood up. “What about your career? Your dreams?” he asked at last. “I had a meeting today. I presented my business idea. ” I looked up at him. He sat down again, facing me “So?” “They will invest. Help me with everything else. All the resource I need. I’m getting started soon. And…I told them all about my situation. It will not be a hindrance they assured me. ” Dad kissed me on my forehead and started to leave. “Dad I want to move out. Get a place of my own. That way it will be better. Even for mom…” he cut me off with one cold glance. “Later.” and left the room without another word.

…. “Mommy!” Lily was shaking my hand as hard as she could to snap me out of my thoughts.”Tell me!”she demanded to know “Then how will people know I can fly?”with a disappointed look on her face.

…”Tell me! What is she up to? Such a thing has never happened in our family, ever. “I could hear my uncle shout in the hall. “And we all have children too. What she is doing is going to affect them. How could she be so reckless! She is a girl after all” said my Aunt. Past few months had been rough with the constant phone calls and pouring in of ‘concerned’ relatives. Some would come, quietly talk to Mom and leave. Some would taunt me, directly or indirectly. I never really paid any attention. I let my work consume me completely. Also, I had been busy meeting Real Estate brokers to find myself a new place, which kept me extra busy. But it was going to be hard finding a good place and a good locality given the budget. Among the few places I saw, most were not up to mark. The rest had conservative people as owners or neighbors and the moment they heard I was not married, they would almost broom me off the property. By then I was already six months in and my bump had started to show.

My uncle kept shouting. I couldn’t stay put any longer. I came into the hall. Both my uncle and aunt were shouting and my mom was sitting there on the sofa like some criminal, her head hanging in shame. I could not bear the sight. Before I could say anything, I saw my father emerge from the other room. All that shouting got to him too.

Everybody shut up at the sight of him. “If you think my daughter is bad influence on you and your kids you are welcome to disown us” my dad was standing eye to eye with my uncle. My uncle was looking at his feet. My father often had that effect on people. “My daughter is my favorite person in the world. I will not have anyone stand under my roof and talk less of her” he said in a firm and low voice. My aunt sat down by my mother. Uncle started to speak, barely looking up “We were only concerned…” My father silenced him. “A butterfly wouldn’t be one if it did not have the heart to bear all the pain it has to for it to become one. It has to suffer and change to be something so beautiful and free. That is what my daughter is” he said. “She can never fly! Not after this!” My mother said, her voice filled with concern. My Dad looked at me from across the room and answered “She will show usall that she can”.

…”How, Mommy, how??” Lily was looking up at me with her big hazel eyes. I stopped for a moment. Lifted her and hurled her into the air. She shrieked out and let out a hysterical laughter. I caught her and said “You just have to show them that you can.”

A piece I wrote almost two years ago. Took my time sharing it.

#my writing #morepowertowomeneverywhere

0 notes