FLY
“If I could only work
here. “
Puran said it the moment they passed the quaint primary
school. Unlike other school, this one didn’t have high walls. Instead it had
tall trees for it's boundary, and one could hardly see the school building through
those. Such was the atmosphere of the school that from the street, all one
could hear was distant murmurs of children, which sounded much like the chanting of Buddhist
monks.
Vidhi knew it was coming, and she knew what she is going to
say next. They had this conversation every day. It was like Puran and Vidhi
were programmed to have this bit of conversation every day they drove past this
landmark, on their way to her school. No matter how lost they were in their
conversation, Puran would pause and say the same thing, with the same sense of
loss. If sense of loss could be measured, then that sentence was its unit of measurement.
“Baba, you should work
in this school!”
“Aah, some day,
Ma...some day.”
Puran never called his daughter by her name. Instead, he
called her Ma. But his indulgence for her as a child ended there. He talked and
behaved with her as an adult. He loved his conversations with her. They could
talk for hours at end, oblivious to the world.
“Yeah, someday your
baba will fly too” Sujala, Puran’s wife, chuckled, sitting at the back
seat.
Puran, and to his relief, even Vidhi, ignored her comment.
After a while Vidhi asked in all seriousness “you think you
can you fly, baba?”
Vidhi liked asking him questions. And Puran loved answering
them.
“I don’t know about flying,
but our maharishis and monks insist human body can float in air. They say, that
it’s worries and worldly business, which weighs the body down and once you are
above and beyond it all, one can float. The scientists, of course, don’t
believe in it. But then, it is a proven fact that human body becomes lighter at
night. I guess, it is because in sleep, you let go of all your worries. So if
at all, night is the best time to try to fly.”
“Baba, I think you
should try flying!”
“Some night, Ma...some
night.” Puran chuckled.
Puran and Sujala were married for 12 years. Theirs was a
love marriage. They were best
friends since their school days in Kalimpong. 21 years ago, they came to the
‘city’, New Delhi, to get a college degree and eventually a career. They lived in
a barsaati floor in Ber Sarai, with 3 other fellow students from their town.
And when they both landed internships, the two of them,
Sujala and Puran, moved out to another, a better barsaati in R.K. Puram. 3
years later, they got married. Vidhi was born 4 years later. But exactly when
their love started to slip out of their life, either of them couldn’t put a
date or time to it. They both realised it’s not there anymore, but either
didn’t dare talk about it. Instead, they ended up being courteous with each other. Either of them hardly ever raised their voice. And then Vidhi came, and they both got
engrossed in bringing her up. Sujala, a perfect mother. Puran, a perfect
friend. And it was time before Vidhi started being more and more friends with
Puran. It’s not like Puran planned it. But he didn’t know any other way. He
didn’t want to teach his daughter
anything, but he liked being her hero.
Vidhi was the best friend he ever had. He loved talking to
her, and got irriatated when anybody tried to butt into their conversations,
even Sujala. Though he cloaked his irritation subtly and acted as if he’s
listening to her. He waited for Vidhi’s attention to waiver from her mother and
he would again hijack the conversation. And then the father and daughter would go
back at it. Sujala, defeated would slink back in back seat and
start texting her lover. Puran knew that Sujala was seeing someone but he
didn’t care. He had Vidhi, and she’s all he ever needed.
And it was moments like these, that Puran, could not cloak
the look of victory flushed over his face. He didn’t even try.
He turned his head to look ahead and caught Sujala on his rear view
mirror, her face contorting into a scream. So engrossed was Puran
talking to Vidhi that he didn’t realise he was approaching a red light. He
slammed into his brakes but it was a bit late. His car screeched to a halt but
still grazed into a stationary car.
Puran gathered himself and ensured Vidhi was unhurt.
Thankfully she was. And to his own surprise, Puran was equally concerned if
Sujala was alright.
And then he heard the screaming and beating on the glass
window. He got out of the car to apologise but before he could say anything,
the screaming man slapped Puran twice. Puran was too stunned to react. All he
could hear was incoherent screaming of the man who was walking back to his car.
Puran came back and sat in the car. Sujala showed no
emotion. Vidhi sat there quietly. Puran could not tell if she was horrified or disappointed. But he dare not ask. They drove quietly to
her school. Puran always parked his car a little ahead of school gate as it was
always crowded. Everyday, before getting off, they would shake hands vigorously, rocking them up
and down. That day when Vidhi got down, Puran couldn’t offer his hand to shake. He wanted to, but he hesitated. Vidhi showed no hesitation, she got off
and walked towards the gate. Puran kept following her with his eyes,
till Vidhi’s bobbing head disappeared in the milieu of kids rushing into the
school gates. He could feel something burning inside him. For a long time he
kept looking at the steering wheel and then when he finally looked up, he
caught Sujala on rear view mirror, with a smirk dancing on her lips.
That evening, Unlike any other evening, Puran and Vidhi
hardly spoke at dinner table. They did not watch t.v afterwards like they always
did.
Sometime that night vidhi woke up to find baba floating
over her room. Or was she dreaming.
The next morning, when the maid came to clean, she found
Puran hanging from the ceiling fan in Vidhi’s room.
