Fortune's hostage
(s-kpost)
Through the busy street of New Road, two middle-aged ladies tread steadily ahead, in leisurely but meaningful steps. Sheila, the younger of the two, carries a yellow polythene bag with some papers. Nilima has a black handbag flung around her left shoulder.
Nilima looks apprehensive, carrying the visage of an eager, yet wary voyager on an important expedition, the kind she has never ventured on before. She turns her head and throws an expectant glance at Sheila, whose eyes remain riveted on the road.
Sheila slackens her pace. We should be near?any minute now, thinks Nilima. After five agonizing months, finally, everything will be settled today. No second-guessing now on.
They round a busy street bend, enter the premise of a bungalow newly painted in yellow, and disappear into a spacey, well-furnished room at the near end.
As they sit alongside, waiting, Nilima looks perturbed, now fidgeting with the latch of her handbag, now twiddling her fingers. Suddenly, her right hand reaches out and lay upon Sheila's left. Sheila stiffens, abruptly shuts her ruddy eyes, upon which streaks of tear trickle down her lifeless cheeks.
Before long, the man at the counter motions them into a well-lit hallway, which ends abruptly at the threshold of an unadorned door. "No Admission Without Permission," it reads.
On a light rap, a woman, with a modest mole dotting her chin, shows up. She beckons Sheila in. The two visitors' eyes meet one last time before the door swings back into place.
Nilima takes a seat by the door, and scans her surrounding: an elderly couple, a man with a rather pronounced stubble, and a young lady in Red dhoti, all planted firmly on the opposite bench. What tenuous bond do all the people waiting outside the fated door share, she cannot quite
fathom yet.
To Nilima, the Dashain when the whole family was together now seems ages ago. And yet, it has only been three years. Three years! When the cheeks of Sheila were red, when her dark-black eyes, flanked with equally colorful lids, inspired mirth. How she loved sitting in front of the mirror and painting herself red?red lipsticks, red saris, red tika, red threads crisscrossing her plaits. Time?Oh, time?
How long has it been? Five minutes? Ten? What must be happening in there right now?and now? Have they had their eureka moment, yet?
The dreary trip on the night bus followed by the pell-mell to fix an appointment, then Sheila wanting to walk (after all that!)?at least a kilometer it must have been; yes, she realizes now, that the rush has come to an end, she is dog-tired. What about Sheila? But surely, she is not?you only have to look into her eyes! No, she is not tired! Not yet.
But had she, Nilima, felt any better at the start of their journey yesterday? The parting at the bus park had been very somber. And Raj, shouldering all the responsibilities?the kids, the daily chores he so hated; his extended leave?Nilima's eyes well up.
And Sandesh, he had always been nice to her. More important, he had been a loving husband. Sheila, the black sheep of the family, had father going bananas when she eloped with Sandesh. It was a long time before the family came to talking terms with her again. But the gulf she had created between herself and father was never bridged. Only when Sheila absconded did Nilima come across the uncompromising nature of her father; the unforgiving
human soul?
The creaking of the door starts her. As Sheila ambles out, Nilima straightens her hunched back, turns her head towards Sheila, and is taken back by the puzzling look in those bloodshot eyes. Without a word, Shelia starts walking down the corridor; Nilima follows. Out on the veranda, Shelia sits on a bench, and with her eyes cast down at the ground, assumes a statue-like posture. After a few uneasy moments, Nilima, now sitting beside and embracing Sheila, asks in a reassuring voice:
"Sheila, please tell me. What did they say?"
Sheila shrugs her shoulders, and says nonchalantly:
"Nothing I didn't know? I am hungry, didi. Let's eat something"
In the canteen, they sit beside a window up front. Sheila is now looking out. Nilima decides to wait.
Sheila cups her hands around the tea glass, gives a shudder, takes a sip, and says:
"When Sandesh passed away, I felt as if someone was gouging into my soul. I knew didi?I knew then," a faint smile escapes her moistened lips. " My heart was rent apart, aching for him for the first time. And now didi?now, after all these years?these no-good quacks tell me there is a hole in it."
