Ashok peered down from his balcony into the narrow lane that lay beneath his house. It was almost 4 pm and he knew it was time for Keka’s weekly visit. It was a Saturday and Keka would be coming over to spend some time with them. Ever since his illness, Ashok would have either of his daughters spend time with them. Jui, his eldest, had just left for her evening classes having spent the day with them. Now it was Keka’s turn to spend the evening.
Ashok checked his watch and his brow creased with impatience. She should have been here by now.
Tunes of a well-known Rabindra Sangeet floated into his ears from his wife’s room. Ashok peeked into her room to find Chitra lying on her bed staring vacantly at the ceiling. Ever since her hip injury owing to a fall in the bathroom, doctors had suggested minimum movement.
Since then, a sudden stillness had reigned over Ashok’s world. Chitra was always an active woman. She had always been moving around the house cleaning, cooking, washing, and talking. Even while she was working as a schoolteacher, there was hardly a day when she would lie down to take some rest.
All of that had suddenly been silenced. Now she would lay in her room, silent, motionless and stoic responding only when spoken to.
Her silence made the house unbearable for Ashok. Their small two-bedroom house had always been filled with boisterous banter. Guests were welcome at any hour of the day. Animated conversations fueled by endless cups of tea kept the air lively and filled the walls of his little haven with warmth. Saturdays would bring in the biggest crowds. “Saturday club” they would call it jokingly.
Over the years, sickness and age changed things. His peers advanced in age and their children grew up and moved on with their lives. Their “Saturday club” meetups slowly dwindled. With no laughter echoing back from these walls, a strange inertness began to grow on them as molds on an old tree. It was as if the walls were rebuking him for making them feel unloved and deserted.
Ashok hated this feeling of alienation. This house was close to his heart. It was here that he had moved in after having lost his home and hearth in Manikganj, East Pakistan, during the riots. It was here that he started to build his life once again. Every nook was filled with memories of the various phases of his life. It was a witness to the many firsts of his life.
Before Chitra fell ill, she filled up a lot of the vacuum with her constant prattle. But now even that was missing.
There were moments when Ashok could feel that old sense of loneliness creep over him. He had this feeling while boarding the train from Manikganj for Kolkata.
As the train pulled away from the station, Ashok remembered a strange void in his heart as all that he had grown up loving moved further and further away from his line of vision till it all became a blur in the distance.
That was the last time he had seen his beloved Manikganj.
The emptiness that settled in his heart was scary. It never really left him. He simply learnt to live with it like an old scab that though dry and healed remains on the skin as an ugly reminder of the pain that had once caused it.
Now, as he stared back at these empty walls, the scab threatened to bleed again. He could feel the wound fester. He did not want to go through that feeling of loss all over again. Hence, he insisted that his daughters visit them.
Ashok’s heart jumped as he spotted the long nose of the red Honda Amaze at the corner of the lane. He moved back quickly not wanting Keka to see him waiting. He went in to lie down, silently grateful as the long hours of standing did take a toll on him.
Keka came up the stairs to find Ashok on the couch his forearms folded across his forehead. His tall frame covering the length of the couch in their living room.
“You have been waiting for me again?” she asked crisply.
“Who told you?” asked Ashok without removing his hand.
“Baba!” Keka looked at her father with exasperation. She adored him more than she knew herself. Her demanding job hardly allowed her time with him throughout her week. Hence, she made it a point never to miss her weekends with him when her sister was tied up with work. They had divided their time between themselves. Her sister who had a more relaxed schedule being the professor of a government college could spend more time with them. However, Keka’s corporate job hardly allowed her that flexibility.
Ashok sat up clearing his voice and looked at his daughter meekly.
“Your organization is doing quite well it seems.” he said, quickly picking up the newspaper lying beside him to change the subject.
“Yes, it is” said Keka with a sigh as she dropped her bag on the chair in front and went over to check on her mother.
Ashok sat restlessly, waiting for her to be back. He often wondered what Chitra spoke to them about when she never had anything to talk to him.
Keka came back with two cups of tea from the kitchen.
“Tell me about it?” said Ashok in an apparent mood to continue the conversation.
“About what?” asked Keka sipping her tea casually.
“About your organization making good profits, what else?” asked Ashok impatiently.
“Oh please Baba, I will give you the report you can read it up. All of last week all I have done is write about that. Can we talk about something else now?” Keka sounded tired.
“Oh I was hoping to hear it from you though” said Ashok sounding hurt.
Keka looked at her father and sighed, smiling softly. The man’s enthusiasm and curiosity remained unabated even during his disease. She realised her father would not let her go without hearing the full story.
So, she began.
It was almost two hours later that Keka looked at her watch realising it was time for her to leave. She felt strangely refreshed owing to the lengthy conversation. It was not only enriching but also invigorating. It was moments like these with him that she always cherished. Her father was not only knowledgeable but could put forward his opinions in a rational manner, something which she thoroughly enjoyed. In fact, she had also inherited this trait from him.
She looked lovingly at the person sitting before her. It was obvious that the disease was eating into his physical health. He had shrunk from the tall strapping man in his youth. His face with its broad forehead, sharp aquiline nose and those smiling eyes had dulled and somehow shriveled up.
However, the smug smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes from behind those dark framed glasses when he won an argument with her made her feel that it would be some time till it could impair his spirit.
It was in the middle of a workday when Keka received the call.
“Rushing Baba to the hospital, come quick” it was Jui calling from the ambulance.
Ashok had not been keeping too well for the past few days. Jui had moved both Ashok and Chitra to her place so that she could keep an eye on them 24/7.
Keka felt her heart turn to stone.
Was it time then?
The Doctors had been asking them to be prepared. There was little they could do anymore.
The disease had spread its fangs too deeply and too widely throughout his body. Medical science had no cure that could stop it from doing so.
By the time Keka reached the hospital, Ashok was already on the ventilator.
“People have come out of it” Arun her husband reassured her. But Keka knew Ashok would not. In fact, she did not want him to come out of it. She had seen him suffer. He was no longer that strong man she had revered all her life. It somehow felt wrong to see him like that. The disease had killed him inch by inch. It was a slow and humiliating end to a life lived so well and she wanted the turmoil to end as soon as possible.
Jui met her outside the ICU. She looked tired and drained. The past few days had taken a toll on her as well.
“You can go and meet him now” she said her voice sounded cracked and dry “He cannot talk but you can…see him….atleast.” She pressed Keka’s hands briefly as they passed.
The ICU was dark and smelt of antiseptics. The stench was strong and nauseating. The beep of cardiac and pressure monitors broke through the silence as the only ray of hope that life still fluttered behind the translucent curtains.
It took Keka some time to find Ashok’s bed.
She pulled aside the curtains and stepped in. Her father lay still and motionless on the bed. His eyes closed. His lips cracked and brown were drawn down in a frown. A look Keka hardly remembered ever associating with him. Ashok was known for his broad smile that always managed to light up his eyes and brighten his whole visage. His black framed spectacles could hardly ever hide the shine in his eyes when he spoke. It was a face that one would hardly ever forget. She did not want people to remember him by this worn and shrivelled face that lay before her.
Keka walked up to her father and laid her hand gently on his arm. It felt stiff and reedy.
Ashok moved slightly. In his mind he could feel the arms of his friend Bidyut wrapped around his shoulders as they sat on the parapet of Ashok’s house the night before he left for Kolkata.
Bidyut the short stocky lad who was Ashok’s best friend in school in Manikganj.
“When will you be back again?” Bidyut had asked him.
Ashok had shrugged with a confused look.
Bidyut nodded sadly knowing the answer well.
After all these years Ashok heard Bidyut’s voice asking him the question again.
“Ashok! Will you come home now?” rang out the voice in the darkness.
Ashok moved his lips to answer.
Keka leaned closer quickly.
“Baba!” she called softly “Do you want something?”
Ashok could only hear a muffled sound.
He forced his eyes to open to look at the face behind the voice. All he could see was a blur of light that lay stretched before him lighting up an endless path.
Ashok sighed with relief.
Was it finally the time to go home then?
Photo by Nishant Vyas
.This is a nice story. I have enjoyed it very much