In Memoriam... (until death do us apart, till life and beyond) - A Short Story

“Papa! Is it good enough? I don’t have to erase and write it again na?” she asked with her note book and brows raised up. I shifted my attention from the TV screen where wise scholars were debating gender equality in India. Everyone seemed to be in agreement until a lady advocated entry of women in certain religious places. She was cut off by two gentlemen threatening her of ‘consequences’. The moderator announced a shot commercial break.

“Batao na. How is it?” she quizzed impatiently. Just that tiny little hint of impatience inherited from her mother. “Okay, let me see. the k’s are definitely better today. Some t’s uncrossed, which is….umm alright. But, hey! Why is the last page unfinished?” “Time’s up. You said just two hours.” she pointed towards the clock. “I know….but by that I meant you had to complete all five pages in those two hours.” I said with ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ look in my eyes. She took a pause, tilted her head towards the left, eyes gazing at the ceiling, taking time for her comeback, “Now that is something you should have explained two hours ago” Before I could respond, I heard a squeaky voice calling at the door, “Ishuuuuuuu Ishuuuuuuu! Come na!” I just caught a glimpse of Ishu’s skirt disappearing through the door. My “Come back by six-thirty.” was met with a “Seven. Bye!” All of six, she was already the boss!

I turned off the TV and started cleaning up the dining table of eraser dust, pencil shavings and cookie crumbs. Why did I give her cookies though? If Aditi discovered that Ishu was being served anything other than fruits for snacks, I’d be doomed. “But it’s so much effort yaar, buying, washing, peeling and then slicing them up” I used to moan. “Are you serious, Keshav? At least try to make sense. You don’t want to do all that? Fine. I’ll do it for Ishu – but dare you try nicking those mango slices form now on.” And there, she silenced me. Every single time. Both these women somehow always managed to do so. Not that I couldn’t argue further, I kind of liked losing to them. That victorious glint in their eyes with a grin when they turned way, kind of made my day. Coming back to present, I promised myself not to act lazy tomorrow and get some apples and bananas, maybe?

Almost a year has passed since we lost Aditi. Car crash. Three days in coma. Vital organs stopped functioning the fourth day, whole body on the fifth. The accident left me with a metal rod in one leg, Ishu with a scar above her eye and our dining table with an unoccupied chair. It took me weeks to get around the fact. Ishu is still trying to take it in. There are times like when she comes back from school or swimming classes and calls, “Mummy! Mummy! Kahaan ho?” and then, the silence; those few seconds when she realizes that there won’t be any response. I dread those moments. That is the thing with children, they express their love to you so much and so often that it becomes impossible for them to get around the fact that they can’t anymore. I wonder at times, did I express mine to Aditi often enough? But, then I realize no amount of it would’ve been enough.

I sprang back to present by a ring on the phone.

Me: Hello Maa!

Maa: Hello beta! How’re you?

Me: Yeah, good. Was just helping Ishu with her homework.

Maa: Had lunch?

Me: Maa, You know I can’t stay hungry for long. It’s five. I’ve had evening snacks also. Maa: I know. Just an old habit to ask. Won’t ask from now on if it bothers you so much. Me: C’mon Maa……..don’t start this emotional….…I’m sorry, okay? Bolo ab.

Maa: Come for dinner tonight. I’ve made Chana dal and Pulav, your favorite. Me: I can’t. Leg’s been aching all day. Driving for an hour will be excruciating. Maa: Oh, please tell me you went to Dr. Bhatt…

Me: It’s okay, it hurts a bit occasionally. It’ll be good by tomorrow.

Maa: See, Keshav, its high time now. You need to have someone to take ca-

Me: Maa, please don’t start again.

Maa: Fine. So you can’t drive?

Me: Yes. (I mouthed a ‘Thank god’)

Maa: Good. Then we are coming over at around nine. I’m packing a tiffin. Okay? Bye.

I liked losing just to Aditi and Ishu, not to Maa. Consequences were grave here.

I wasn’t one of those wicked, evil sons, as depicted by Indian daily soaps who frown at their parents for encroaching upon my life, there was a reason behind this evasion.

The doorbell rang a few minutes after nine-thirty. Ishu rushed to open the door cheering, “Amma! Baba!” Her Baba picked her and held her up like and airplane – their favorite sport. Maa quickly sprinted towards the kitchen, “Sorry beta, your papa got us late. Always forgets locking the door, we had to return back home.” “And what about you? Who changes three sarees before going to his son’s home?” Papa smirked from the hall. “Don’t listen to him. After his retirement it has made his sole purpose to irritate me.” said Maa hurriedly placing plates on the table. Sticking his tongue out, Papa rolled his eyes and Ishu giggled.

We started dinner soon amid Ishu and Papa’s top-secret hush talks and Maa’s constant gaze on me – which I was striving to ignore. I knew something was coming up in a while.

Maa: Why didn’t you come to Ramolia Ji’s retirement party last week? Me: Was busy. Work.

Maa: You should have come. Ritika was also there. You know her na? She was in your college. Lovely girl, still unmarried you know. Went to Australia for 3 years for some course. Nice, na? I’m thinking about inviting Ramolia Ji and his family for dinner net week. You have to come. Ritika keeps asking about you.

Me: Hmm

Maa: Oh waah! I’m so excited abhi se! It will be great. You’ll like her. Ishu will like her too.

Me: I didn’t say yes. Can we please just eat?

Maa at last said in a firm tone, “Okay Keshav. I think - I mean me and your Papa, both think it is time you should start thinking about marrying someone.” An uneasy silence swept over the table. Papa looked at Maa with a “don’t-start-it-now” gaze. Ishu was not that puerile not to understand. She fixed her eyes on me. Maa persisted, “Look Keshav, it’s been a year”-“It’s just been a year, Maa.” I said rather loudly. Maa replied, “Fine then. On one hand I am thinking of your well-being, on other you yourself want to ruin the golden days of your life. Fine. I’ll not say anything from now on.” Papa gave me a reassuring look, but didn’t utter a single word. After all, he still had to live with his wife, unlike me.

We wrapped up around eleven and Maa and Papa walked towards the door. Maa had washed all dishes and changed the bed sheets, sans a single word. Papa said, “You know her. Too excited one moment and too dismal the next. Don’t worry about her. You take care.” Before leaving, he planted a peck on Ishu’s cheek and gave me a reassuring smile.

It was difficult for me. I was torn between my inability and Maa’s care for me. Then there was Ishu too. A child always needs a mother, they said. How could I deprive Ishu of a mother’s love? But I didn’t know if I could be a good husband to that mother, and to be honest, neither could I be sure if she could be a suitable mother to Ishu. I had no idea what did Ishu want and couldn’t muster the courage to ask her.

Soon enough, I started feeling drowsy but there wasn’t a hint of sleep in Ishu’s eyes. The best way to make her walk in that direction were bedtime stories. Today’s pick was ‘Tales of Beedle the Bard’ by Rowling. A personal favorite. Me and Ishu tucked ourselves under a duvet, switched the bed lamp on and started off with ‘The Wizard and the Hopping Pot’. I nattered in a deep, lulling voice; pausing and gasping at the right instants and reveling at Ishu’s reactions. She had listened to these stories countless times, yet each reading was met by a sense of unprecedented excitement and awe. By the time we reached ‘The Warlock's Hairy Heart’, Ishu had dozed off. I gently placed her head on the pillow and kissed her goodnight. Before turning off the lamp, I cast one last glance over her.

She slept just like Aditi. Turning left, right knee bent and knuckles close to the lips like she was holding a mic. I listened to the soft sound of her breathing, looked at her petite chest moving and eyes shifting beneath those tiny eyelids. Yes, she was dreaming!

Nothing and no one could replace this joy. Of watching her sleep, talking to her, losing to her, see her eyes sparkle when she spoke and witness the smile when she woke. Nothing. I now knew my stand on Maa’s proposal. I wasn’t ready to share this with anyone or let anyone take this away from me. This, god knew, is where my contentment lied now. This was my peace.

I kind of missed Aditi a bit for she would have given anything to cherish moments like these, but a part of me knew, that a part of her was living them. I decided to sleep beside Ishu that night. There was no better way to sleep and no better way to miss.