MEETING
- Sajid Ahmed 17 April 2019
He was late. It usually took him about half an hour to walk till Chowrasta to find a place to sit and wait for her. Today, the onset of the cold weather had reminded the old man of his bad knee and he slowly limped up the hill for his weekly rendezvous.
It was Saturday. Today everyone would be at home and he would be free to take a leisurely walk to the Mall. He looked forward to meeting her every Saturday. It was their secret. No one at home knew about it. As far as they were concerned, he went to meet his old cronies from the office and share the stories of their lives after retirement.
Winter was coming. He could feel his bones start to ache. The days were getting shorter. Darkness came quickly and soon the streetlights were on. He looked around and spotted her. She was sitting quietly on the far end of the Mall. Her face lit up in a smile as soon as she saw him. He quickened his pace as he wanted to spend his precious evening with her.
They had been childhood friends. Grown up in the same neighbourhood. Childhood had been poor but full of fun. But sadly, she had moved away to a different town because her father had got a better job. They tried to keep him touch through letters but the distance strained their correspondence. He had met her once in college during a conference but she had given him an unwelcome bit of news. Her marriage had been fixed by her parents and the boy was working in Dubai. He hadn’t said goodbye – just “Congratulations, my best wishes to you both”. He had never felt so empty.
Now, in the twilight of his years, he had bumped into her one Saturday about a few months back. She had silver hair but the twinkle in her eyes made him feel young again.
“Yes. I am back for good. My son is working here so I have moved in with him after I lost my husband.”
He was delighted to see her – “Oh, I’ve also retired and now live with my daughter and her family after my wife passed way.”
Both of them were silent for quite a while, in the memory of their beloveds who had left them. The awkwardness soon gave in to friendly banter.
“So, do you remember Reena, the one who used to have snot running down her nose? She is my samdhini now! My daughter’s mother-in-law.” This made her laugh. It was lost music to his ears.
Their meetings became a regular affair. No one paid attention to an old couple sitting and talking on the benches that filled Chowrasta. The Mall was full of old people whose homes had become an emotional prison for them. The open air, the shrieks of happy children soothed them and they would spend hours just sitting happily on those green benches.
“You know, I had come to the conference just to meet you” – he confessed.
“Any particular reason?”, she teased him.
“Well, I didn’t want to lose you but at the same time I didn’t have a job, so I just wanted to ask you to wait for me till I got a steady job.”
“So why didn’t you ask?”
“You told me that your marriage was fixed. A husband with a steady job in a foreign country! Forty years ago, that was like a fairytale”, he haltingly explained. After all these years, he had nothing to hide or fear. She was with him now, sitting, breathing and listening to his every word.
She didn’t say anything but took his gnarled hand and held it with hers. There was comfort in the touch, a deep understanding of his weary heart.
It was time to go home. The tea-sellers were packing shop and he paid for the many glasses of the sweet nectar he had. She never drank tea she said. He didn’t want to let go. Something tugged at his heart as he saw her walk slowly down towards home.
When he reached home, everyone was watching a very loud program on television. His grandchildren rushed at him as he always bought some sweets for them. Soon he went to his room and lay down on the bed.
It was very cold outside. He could hear the wind trying to creep in through the cracks of the old house. He closed his eyes and whispered her name. She had been his perfect friend. A person who could complete his every sentence. All their friends teased them endlessly. He could picture her – a pretty girl with ponytail, full of joy and energy.
Sadly, their hard childhood didn’t have the luxury of photographs. All that remained was one grainy grey image taken by one of their rich neighbours during Dasain. A picture of a rag-tag motley group of kids, dressed in their festive best and a million dollar smile on their lips. Her smile lit up the photo like a sunbeam through the clouds.
He had shown the photo to her and she had named everyone in it- even the scruffy dog lying in the corner of the frame. Tommy – the collective village mongrel. How they had laughed at that name.
“Where are they now?”, she asked.
“Gone. Most of them. A few that are around don’t stay in Darjeeling anymore”, he replied.
“Why?”
“Because it’s hard for them. The cold doesn’t suit their health so they have all migrated to warmer climes.”
“One day we will also be called to warmer climes”, she looked at him sadly.
He had a beautiful dream that night. They were all together again. The grey photograph became alive with colours. Everyone was singing and dancing. Tommy was running in wild circles around them. She was holding his hands and dancing merrily to the music. He could hear the shouts and giggles.
Next Saturday brought rain to the town. A bitter chill descended in the hills. He put on his warmest woollens and reached his meeting point but she didn’t come. Maybe she wasn’t well. She had mentioned that she was taking medicines for her heart. He too had his pills- too many if anyone asked him. So he sat for an hour and watched the city lights turn into dying embers.
The chill did not relent and neither did he. After she didn’t turn up the next week, he went looking for her. It wasn’t easy. Not many people remembered her. He had to use her son’s name to locate her. After some days of frantic searching, he got an address. It was on the outskirts of town, near the army cantonment at Lebong. Her son apparently worked as a clerk in the cantonment and lived in that area.
He told his family that his old friend had invited him to Lebong. When he reached the locality, he saw that it was a neat row of army quarters. Number eleven it said on the address. He knocked on the door. A pretty young girl, with a ponytail and a smile like a sunbeam opened the door. He stared in shocked silence.
“Namastey. Are you here to meet my father?”,she asked.
He quickly recovered and managed to say “Yes.”
“Please do come in”.
He noticed that the house was very neat. A vase of pink flowers was on the table. Small photo frames were arranged on the walls.
A young man entered the living room and did namaste.
“I was a childhood friend of your mother. We grew up together and recently we had met in Chowrasta and since I was passing by I thought I’d drop in and say hello.”
They stared at him in stunned silence. Finally, the father asked the young girl to go inside and bring tea.
“I’m sorry. You must be mistaken.” He said. “My mother passed away two weeks ago. She had a heart condition and the cold spell proved fatal. She passed away peacefully in her sleep.” His eyes turned towards a photo frame in the corner.
It was her. Silver hair and the same smile.
“Perhaps you met someone else because she has been bed-ridden ever since we came here. It was her wish to be in Darjeeling for one last time so I requested a posting to Lebong”, the son explained. “We have been here for about four months now. I told Ama that the cold wasn’t good for her. But she was adamant. She said it was her last wish.”
“Now that she is no more, I’ve requested for a new posting. At least her soul is in peace.”
The old man felt his heart slow down and his breathing became difficult. The young man saw this and quickly ran to get a glass of water. By the time everyone in the house gathered, the old man had recovered.
“I’m extremely sorry to trouble you like this but please hear me out”, he started to explain.
They say truth is stranger than fiction. The old man lied to them and told them that he had found out his friend’s address and had come to surprise her. The family believed him and felt sorry that he had received very sad news. He apologised and bid his goodbye. The daughter came to leave him till the taxi stand. She quietly held his hand and walked up with him.
“Bajey, you met her, didn’t you?”, she asked. “Boju used to tell me about you after she woke up from her long slumbers.”
He looked at her, “Yes, I did. I think she came to Darjeeling to say goodbye to me. To finish all our conversations before she went to warmer climes.” He paused. “You remind me of her. I will say a prayer for her soul.”
As the taxi wound its way to town, the setting sun cast weak shadows and the old man found himself smiling thinking about warmer climes.
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