THE LONG WAIT HOME…

It was a sultry day and the scorching summer peeped through the trees trying to witness the event that was about to take place. The air was humid with the weight of each moment that passed. The trees rustled in the soft breeze whispering the anticipation in the air. In the shadow of their whispers on a wooden bench sat an old lady with her head held stubbornly high. Time had taught her undeniably that surrender to destiny was as honorable as resistance, especially if one had no choice. Time would put her through perhaps the most painful test a mother would have to face. Her calm demeanor cached the multeity of emotions within. She sat there, the tender grass at her feet, staring at the entrance of a grey imposing structure.. Waiting..

Behind the walls of the grey structure that marked a different world, behind the dark corridors that were stale with the stench of forgotten dreams, behind the iron bars that caged the despair of broken wings, he lay on the cold ground staring at the ceiling above him. Time had taught him to fight with the world for one’s existence no matter what the end. Time had made him immune to fear - even fear of death. He lay there feeling the cold seep into his bones, his heart beating in synchrony with each passing moment…. Waiting…

The sound of clink of metal broke him away from his reverie, as the supervisor of the prison opened the cell with food in his hands. He gulped the food and it went down his throat like little rocks. Later a doctor came to examine him. To check if he was healthy enough to die? He grinned at that thought.

…The breeze lifted the fallen leaves from near her feet. She took a silent walk through time, lost in the haze of memories. The images behind her closed eyes were entwined in darkness. The voices echoing in her ears were weaved in silence. The whispers knocked at the doorstep of her heart. She walked up the empty inner rooms of her memories calling out for the child that had been hers… The child that had clung onto her finger as he learned to walk… The child that slept against her bosom in blissful slumber… She had only herself to blame for the man he turned into. She may have loved him too much. She should have read the signs… The friends he hung out with… The long recurring trips until finally he vanished leaving her behind with a hole in her heart. She hadn’t heard from him until the arrest. “Aggravated murder and sentenced to death” the court had declared, not knowing how many lives would die with one. The leaves settled in some corner of the world.

In the other world, he waited till his time came. He had no remorse in life. He loathed the so called ‘law’ that thought it knew what is right for people. What does the ‘law’ know about the life in the streets? The law cannot feed people. The law cannot set one free. Initially he had felt trapped in the path he had chosen for himself. But later he was intoxicated by the money and the power it gave him. He felt as if he was empowered to rule the lives of people around him.

When the metal bars opened for the second time that day, he knew he was not coming back. The Superintendent, Deputy Superintendent and three guards stepped into his cell. One of the guards applied the restraints on him while the other two held him. Then the two guards held either of his arms and urged him out of the cell. He swung his arms away from their grip and said “I walked on my own in life. I can walk on my own to death.” So with one guard on either side, the other guard and officials behind him, he marched toward death.

At the execution room, the executioner was waiting for the convict to arrive. This was his first execution, not that he was looking forward for it. As the convict entered he felt a chill run through his spine. When the convict was taken past him to the scaffold, he looked straight into the executioner’s eyes, as if knowing he was the one destined to put his life to an end. The executioner saw the cruelty lurking in the corners of his eyes.

After the prisoner was made to stand near the scaffold, the death warrant was read aloud. The warders held the arm of the convict and mounted him over the scaffold, placing him directly under the beam to which rope was attached. The executioner, with professional indifference that he was trained at, strapped his legs tightly together, placed the black cap over his head and adjusted the rope tightly around his neck. To the executioner, the faceless figure standing at the scaffold seemed like any other man. He stepped down from the platform and everyone waited…

The arrow of time pierced the thin air. The pendulum swung solemnly, steadily. Time ticked by in the convict’s pulse, in his heart. His heartbeats raced with each tick of the clock. Everything around held its breath in anticipation of the next second. A sullen silence remained. For the first time he felt fear grip him slowly like a snake tightening around its prey. He felt his inner self writhing as if on a red-hot metal sheet. Just as the clock signaled it was time, as the executioner signaled the guards to withdraw from the scaffold, as he drew the bolt, as the rope tightened against the convict’s throat beneath the black cloth, as the ground he stood on gave away under him, just before he choked at his own weight, a loud cry escaped his lips that echoed within the walls of room, ringing hollowly in the minds of the people in it. That scream would haunt the executioner’s dreams for years to come.

At that moment time had stood still. Not a leaf rustled, not a soul stirred. Everything seemed to be frozen, captured in the ice of timelessness. Nature reflected the emptiness within a mother’s soul.

Later at the funeral house she waited to take her son back home with her. When his body was brought to her, she stood beside him and removed the white cloth that covered his face. Not a tear was shed… Not a sob escaped her lips… She stared at his face searching for her child, only to realize he wasn’t there.

She started her journey towards home with the corpse of her son; only she knew that she had reached the end of her long journey.

A Walk in the Rain...

As she sipped her coffee, she couldn’t help but think how magical the night was. It was raining softly outside. She listened to the rhythm of the rain lashing over the roof as if whispering unheard tales inducing the night into sweet slumber. She finished her coffee and went about her routine activities. She kept a jug of water next to her father’s bed; her father who had been paralyzed by fate for years now. For the last time she made sure her little brother was asleep. Then, she stepped out into the rain, in her crimson red sari, when the world was fast asleep.

She didn’t bother to carry an umbrella. The rain was no alien to her, nor was the rain to the expressions of her heart. She felt the cold shimmering pearls of rain that fell from the heavens above, drench her warm body slowly. It was not the kind of rain that poured with vehemence that cut through the sacred earth and echoed the storm within you. It was the rain that caressed you with each of its drops trying to wash away the pain engraved in the heart of your soul. She took a deep breathe of the sweet fragrance in the air. Yes… this is the closest one can get to magic. Each drop fell gracefully on the unforgiving ground in steady rhythm; music as if to guide a lost child to find its way.

As she approached a turning in the road she could hear the laughter of children. Just around the corner there were a group of children playing in the little lakes that the rain had made and were ridiculously giggling away to glory. At that moment she wished she were a child cached in the bubble of its laughter… A child with only childish fantasies so improbable within the realms of reality, yet seeming attainable within the vagaries of a child’s mind.

She walked further down the road to the bus stop and stood a little away from it, waiting. After a couple of minutes a man came walking down the road towards the bus stop. As he neared the bus stop he looked at her. Time seemed to stand still as their eyes locked. A flash of lightening momentarily illuminated the dark night making her face shine with an unearthly glow, which was followed by the sound of thunder that rolled across the sky. Everything seemed to be frozen around them as their eyes penetrated each other, assessing each other, anticipating each move. She caught her breathe as a cold chill spread across her bones. Was it the rain or was it fear that gripped her every time for just a millisecond?

She walked towards him and stood beside him. He looked the other way and asked her, ‘How much?’

She replied, ‘500’.

‘Hey, that’s too high. I’ll give 200.’

‘Look, I am not settling for anything less than 400.’

‘Go away. I’ll look for someone else’, came the reply.

When he moved as if to go away, she instinctively took a step forward before stopping herself. She swallowed hard hoping to erase the desperation in her voice and said, ‘Ok. I’ll take 300 for one hour and that’s final. Take it or leave it, old man.’ She said it as vehemently as she could. She didn’t realize her eyes portrayed a strange blend of conflicting emotions.

He seemed reluctant for a minute, which seemed like an eternity to her. But finally he said, ‘Fine. Follow me.’

She let out a sigh of relief and followed him along the road to a dingy hotel. There were other women standing outside the hotel. The men in the hotel gawked at her. Her gaze didn’t waver even for a moment as she glared back at them. The hotel was dimly lit and smelt of stale air. She waited near the window as the man spoke to the guy at the reception.

She watched the sporadic drizzle through the dirty window. She was struck by how different the rain looked from this side of the world, as it fell on the puddles creating ripples that spread far beyond only to see its own end as the ripples of each droplet merged with each other. From that dingy, stale hotel lobby she felt the rain looked like heaven’s way of washing away all the filth in the world.

Her trail of thoughts were broken when the man called out to her, ‘Hey you. What is your name?’ He was standing inside the room that he had rented on the ground floor holding the door open for her to enter. She walked towards the room and said, ‘Does it matter?’ She shut the door behind her. For about an hour she shut herself away from the rhythmic tales of the rain… shut herself away from her childish dreams…

Later, she sat on a half-broken chair staring at the money the man had kept on the bed. He was sound asleep. Opposite to where she sat there was a mirror that held captive her image, reflecting silence. It seemed like a stranger was staring back at her from inside the mirror. But if she looked closely she may see the distorted image of a person she once knew. Someone had once told her that your world eventually becomes a reflection of yourself. She instantly looked away, picked up the money and quickly left the room. It was still raining gently outside, as if it was waiting for her… knowing the need of its comfort.

Once again, when the world was fast asleep, she stepped out into the rain. The rain swept her face as she walked along the lonely road following the rhythm of the rain… like a lost child… trying to find its way…

CACHE OF MEMORIES

She had woken up from her sleep long before dawn. She lay on her bed enable to go back to sleep again. She got up, sat on the bed and let out a long sigh. She reached for her walking stick and stood up with difficulty. Age had multiplied the effort required for simple things as this.

It was a cold winter morning and she felt the chill hit her bones. She lit a fire and slumped into the comfort of her favorite rocking chair beside the window. It had snowed the previous night. The white ground that seemed to stretch into eternity looked as if it were painted… as if the sky was floating gently on earth.

She could hear the sound of the wood cracking in the fire. She watched the flames dancing in the air and the shadows of light dancing to its tune. It is fascinating how darkness could evolve from something so brilliant. She could feel herself crawl into the warmth that filled the room. That room was full of memories. She looked around the room that was witness to her kaleidoscopic world. She glanced past her children’s medals and trophies, past the drawings they had made a long time ago, to where the collection of photographs was kept. She picked up one framed photograph out of them.

A man… a smile… a solace for almost a lifetime… Now just an image in a faded photograph. She ran her wrinkled hand over his face. It had been years since he had gone… years since his hand had held hers in the paths trodden.

The first sun beam that was to break the darkness that dawn, would mark her 80th birthday. It was hard for her to believe that eighty years of her life had passed by in an eye blink. The few days ahead seemed like a struggle, with the present hanging onto a bunch of forlorn dreams.

She closed her eyes and drowned into a panoramic rummage of her mind’s cache of memories. Images flashed before her eyes… images of her wedding day… her first child… her children’s first steps… their laughter in that very garden… her grandchildren… The thoughts brought a smile to her face. All that she had been through in life was worth holding her grandchildren in her arms. But they were all away in different corners of the world. Maybe they would send her a card wishing her happy birthday or maybe she would receive a phone call.

She looked at the other photographs of her family. They were moments of life captured for eternity that never grows old and never ceases to look back at you. You never see the bad days in a photo album; life simply seems to travel from one happy snapshot to another. Time in all those years had revealed the beauty in the multiplicity of patches. The time ahead was marked by the wait to ultimately become an image in a faded photograph.

She leaned back in her rocking chair and closed her eyes. Slowly everything around her vanished into nothingness. When the sun rose in the horizon of the slate blue sky, its sunrays kissing the sleeping night awake, she was asleep clinging onto the faded photograph of her beloved.