THE GIFT

This story is my first attempt to delve into human relationships…and its intricacies as we walk the path of life.  Human nature tends to surprise us unexpectedly and that perhaps makes it worth it!

THE GIFT 

    

The train  slowed to a screeching halt as the platform approached. The wheels clanged on the rails and grudgingly stopped at the non descript platform .The sign post read Chatakpur. The summer sun shone mercilessly as I hurriedly disembarked. The platform wore a mundane look. Not many people come or go else where from here. Sparsely populated, the village where my old grand aunt lived was about an hours drive from the station. I walked towards the bus stand hoping to catch the bus. The summer heat won the battle  in draining my body and the garment absorbed every drop of water. I was hot, sweaty and thirsty.

The bus stand was somewhat crowded. Amidst much pushing and shoving I finally got a seat. Sea of faces stared at me , some of them in askance, some in placid acceptance. The driver of the bus honked and shouted to announce his departure. With a final shake, and throwing people off balance, the engine started and the bus trudged along grumbling , its lethargy evident  at every turn of its wheel.

Chatakpur never quite registered in my memory. My impressionable memories of those days of childhood, were of afternoons, spent beside a stream ,looking for colored stones which felt smooth and so cool to the skin, or of those times when my sister and I would sit in the grove listening to the call of the unknown bird.

 The road stretched itself through patches of cultivation burned yellow by the unrelenting sun. Streams were parched and the stones lay hot and glistening in their path.
 Father had his roots in this small village and he would bring his family where he grew up and spent his childhood. Father used to say that his parents had left him in the care of his aunt, who very fondly had brought him up till he was old enough to be given admission to a boarding school in the hills. My great aunt, who happened to be my grandfather’s cousin sister, used to dote on my father and she was quite heart broken when my father had to leave. Time, in my father’s world flew by and he had gradually moved on with his life. Boyhood to manhood passed in a matter of years. Twenty years had just whizzed past in a blink of an eye. He continued to visit her from time to time. As a family he had taken us to visit her too….though not very frequently; But one day father announced that we will not go back to Chatakpur  again.  Time slowly erased Chatakpur from our minds and with it our great aunt too. She remained a shadowy figure of that past which we fondly call childhood , but sadly remember nothing.

Through the drapes of memories as they lifted their veils I remembered her frame and face. She happened to be of short stature and the white of her apparel vied with the silver of her hair. As a small boy, I used to imagine her as   the disguised fairy godmother of   the fairy tales which so filled my mind. The thatched two  storeyed  house which was her home, was an attraction for me and my sister.  On the balcony of the upper storey stretched the ungainly branch of a jamun tree, and in its shade we would build an imaginary world transforming the hut into our castle. We would spin a thousand situations from the stories which we had read or heard and while away time without a care in the world.

 A jolt and the screech of tyres brought me back to my present. There was commotion and the conductor was shouting for people to get down in the middle of nowhere ….He was shouting

“Get down, get down.”

 People jostled and pushed one another and I was transported, without much effort on my part , to the supposed bus stop in no time. Few villagers had got down with me and I enquired ,

“ Which way to Sudha rani’s house?” 

The old man looked at me and with his eyes indicated the direction to her house. I followed his gaze and found the narrow road leading to a cluster of houses.

“Turn left, from those houses, cross the rice field and then the stream on the edge of the field, to reach her house.” he said.

“Are you going that way? I asked, hoping, I will have company.

“No” he hastily added and went on his  way.

I made my way through the heat of the afternoon sun, alone. Thankfully , I reached the stream soon and  then waded through the cool water to reach the other side. It was the same stream where my sister and I used to sit for hours just letting our feet feel the cool  water ,or collect smooth stones from its depth where the water was not too deep. It was here one day,  we found a very beautiful smooth greenish blue one, which was our treasure. She of course held it in her possession.  My request to own it for a few  hours went ignored. I would sulk but to no avail. I smiled to myself waving away these thoughts .

Sudha  Rani’s house stood there as it stood there so many years back. I walked into the courtyard and she stood there waiting to receive me. Time has aged her undoubtedly but failed to rob the twinkle in her eye. She gave me a hug, as I touched her feet. She held me ,tears of joy streaming her face.

“Wasn’t sure you would come , you know.” she said.

A little boy came along , to stand beside her, with water.

“Give it to uncle”, she said.

“Who is he?” I asked, as he handed the glass to me.

“He is Halu; his father works on the field and he spends the day with me.” Tired, I sat down on the small bed she was sitting on.

I wondered how she managed to be on her own .She refused to leave her village inspite of my father’s earlier insistence.

“How is Debesh? How is he keeping?”

Debesh my father, was not keeping too well. However, I did not divulge this to her.

“He is fine…..” I said hesitantly.

“Debesh never came back after that day…..you know,” She said,looking at a yonder point.

“I know.”

The afternoon sun by then had mellowed a little and I refreshed myself. The jamun tree still stood there, its branches filled with the black berries , its foliage filtering the breeze. Evening was fast approaching and my great aunt sat looking out into nothingness of the space….Her sense of loss and desperation to connect back to my father was palpable. She was questioning with her silent gaze as to what had suddenly brought her to this .…. I could not look into those eyes for long. She sat beside me, mechanically waving the fan made up of palm leaves and tried to collect information about our world which she longed to belong.

Time had  kept her away from this relationship  and thus distance in physical and mental sense crept up slowly. She emanated a brooding air about her….lost in the world she knew and the world she did not know.

“Old age, my son, is a burden.”

“What keeps you here?” I asked.

“My own time is measured my son…..till then I have to be here. Moreover these  people who work for me , Halu and small children like them make my stay here a necessity.”

“So, you do keep yourself busy inspite of yourself. Why do you say then old age is a burden?”

“You won’t understand.” She sighed …

She was reasonably in good health conditions as far as age would permit.

Then what burden was she carrying? I asked myself.

 I recalled that day of our visit to our great aunt’s house twenty years back. Time plays tricks with people’s lives. Ours  too,  was no exception. I was about ten, but till today the memory remains vivid. It was my parent’s anniversary and my great aunt had invited all to spend a few days with her, in the quiet village surrounding. Evening saw us at the old village temple for the Almighty’s blessing on our family. She prayed for us specially that day at the temple, I remembered .We were her only family she had said.

That night , me and my sister had slept on her bed and we begged her to tell a story. She had instead shown us a gem stone ….so blue in its colour and surrounded by white stones it almost make us cry out in wonder. She hushed us up and had said it was for my mother. It was a gift. We were happy particularly when she promised to give us both, one when we would grow up. The sense of well being is often short lived…..Happiness is often overcast by its own shadow.

The next day morning brought the dark clouds of danger looming. The sky was overcast and the constant call of the chatak bird was ominous of the rain. There was commotion and argument about something missing and frantically my great Aunt was trying to pacify my Mother.

“We will find it ,must be here only.” My great aunt was saying.

“The possibility is remote….with so many outsiders who you encourage in the house, I will never find it.” I heard my mother

saying, in my sleep. The romance of the beautiful morning with the chatak’s melodious song  calling for the rain to come ,was lost in my mothers harsh  high pitched voice.

Mother was angry and in a bad mood ….her anniversary gift from father was missing.

“I would have send you the money in a day or two. Why couldn’t you wait?” He had said to my great Aunt.

The words left her shell shocked. Aunt had just stood staring at my father…..

“Are  you suggesting…..” her voice had trailed.

Father was in a hurry to leave least we all get stranded by rains and the slushy roads it could bring. We left in a hurry….There was no time for the customary hug and kiss from her either.

 “Do you know why have I finally called you here?”

I answered in negative. She had communicated, after so long that we had almost forgotten her existence. She had send a letter addressed to me, asking me to come once, to visit her.

She got up slowly and lit the lamp in her room and called me in. The sun had called it a day and the breezy evening had set in to herald the night. The men were returning from the field one by one. One of them was Halu’s father. Halu was with him and the next instant he ran into the room where I was, put a small packet on the small table and ran away….

“The food,  granny for you and uncle.”

I realized that my great aunt was dependent on them and their likes for her daily sustenance….I was feeling uneasy.

She nodded with a smile.

After they left , she called me to her side and made me sit on her bed. It reminded me of the old times….

She was by now opening the folds of cloth on a small packet ;I eagerly waited as to what she was about to show.

“Bring the light closer,” she said.

I did as she said.

“This is for you and your sister. …Remember I had promised you both.”

There in front of my eyes lay the two stones….one the deep blue surrounded by white stones, the one she had said she will give to mother. The other was equally pretty …an oblong red coloured gem, encased in gold filigree work….fit to be a pendant.

I sat there looking at her speechless for a while and then said under my breath …..

“So it was you who took my mother’s jewel after all.”

She looked at me in disbelief and then said “you are no exception, my son.”

“How did this come to you?” I enquired accusingly.

She got up and brought out a small wooden box from under her bed. It was locked. She handed it over to me and said ,

“Remind me to give you the keys tomorrow.” She said, and silently retired to her room, leaving me the bed to sleep in and the question unanswered.

Indignance filled my being and I left the room to sit in the courtyard staring at the darkness as the fireflies performed their dance show. She had called me all the way to hand me a stolen jewel….a jewel which actually belonged to my mother.
Next   morning, I was to leave…The thought consoled me.

The dawn came early…..most likely because I had not slept well .The house was quiet and I walked around the courtyard savouring the fresh morning air. I hurriedly packed my belongings and was about to leave when the box caught my attention. The keys were lying beside it. I picked up both. Halu was at the door of the room observing …

“Where is your granny?” I asked.

“She has gone to the rice field with my father and has told me to walk you to the bus stop.” he said.

She has lost face on being caught …I thought to myself. I walked out of the house towards the bus stop ,Halu silently following.

The train was on time and sitting comfortably I decided to open the box. It was a pretty wooden box with intricate carvings adorning the corners. The box opened with ease and inside neatly wrapped were some unopened letters, addressed to Debesh Chatterjee from Sudha Rani. However all of them was redirected back to Sudha Rani.Out of sheer curiosity to solve the mystery of the unopened letters I slit one open….It read as follows….

Debesh,

The day you left after spending your anniversary here I searched  every corner of the house to look for the lost pendant. As luck would have it I found the pendant the very same evening you left….in the folds of the pillow case in your room. Please come over once to collect it and also my gift to you both which I had forgotten to hand over in the melee. You, Ranu  and the children  are my only family, please do not misunderstand. I may have asked for a sum of money from you for my upkeep but will not steal from you to fulfill my purpose. Have faith in me.

My Blessings to you both,

Aunt Sudha.

 I opened the next letter with the same contents, the third and the fourth all spoke the same.

Why were the letters returned to her? Who did it? I did not want to know…..Some one never wanted her to be a part of the family to which she wanted to belong.

The realization of my own mistake made me feel small. How could I accuse her of stealing? I had committed  the same mistake my father did years back. I sat in the midst of all those papers grasping the simplicity of truth. She did not correct me …In her own way she just helped me to change the lurking suspicion somewhere in the crevices of my mind which is the source of doubt.

 She truly had given me the greatest gift …… a different perspective to look at life.

The train was leaving Chatakpur behind, on its onward journey.