Short Story Friends – Mriga- The Deer Eyed
Mriga- The Deer Eyed
Photo credit: xenia from morguefile.com
I was wandering if it was dusk or dawn as laziness had enveloped me from all around. I had decided to take a power nap but as always it turned out to be a slumber of three hours. Infuriated on my own carelessness, i started thinking about my professional life. Not that i was not happy about it , but i always had dreamt much more splendid and gigantic than this. Then I thought about my day. How hectic it was! but it was not just the story of today but everyday was the same. HECTIC, BORING, ALIKE and Everything i hate. I was getting nostalgic about the innocent dreams i had when i was a child. Life was different then. i was so full of energy , dreams , hopes and wishes. Its not that i do not have wishes any more, its just that i have confined their horizons. I remember i wanted to be an author whenever i read any of those books of Charles dickens. but now, it’s been decades since i have given a thought to writing. Yes, i still have dreams and i have labelled them PRACTICAL.
Lost in my world of thoughts, sailing through my river of memories on a boat of dreams, i was smiling. A self-criticizing smile. It was only the voice of Anu aunt that brought me back to reality. Anu aunty ( as we call her) , is one among the common faces you can see everyday and almost everywhere. She is the gossip-monger of the locality. A familiar name for every one , irrespective of age. As expected, she had something new to tell with her vivid expressions. My mother was specially very fond of her.
I tried overhearing their conversation , but all efforts seemed futile. A few minutes latter, i quit trying simply impressing on my mind that it was of no concern to me. How easily we give up . At times out of apathy, at times out of fear of failure. How easily! The way i had dropped my dreams on the name of being practical. before i could call for tea, a something familiar struck my ears and thence my mind. It was a name. ”MRIGA” as she said. What could be the gossip about her? isn’t that enough that people had already attributed so many names to her?
PECULIAR , LUNATIC, STRANGE , MYSTIC ,MAD . How many re-baptism will it take for people to let the poor girl live her life peacefully? They never let their children play with her when she was young. no-one was friendly with her when she grew up a little. If some mother sees her daughter/son talking to her, they would immediately call her/him back and latter rebuke them. As for me, she was not mad or strange . she was DIFFERENT.
Many times she asked me, ” Vidhi, why do people run away from me”?
I tried a lot fending off the question. i was too afraid to tell her what others were saying about her and the fact is that, even my mother used to get annoyed whenever she saw me talking to her. Gradually , i got involved in my life and we attained the age of adolescence. Mriga visited my home a couple of times to talk to me, but my mother always said that i wasn’t home. I remember the last time she came to my home and mom told her that i wasn’t home after warning me not to come out untill she goes . She stood at the gate for a while and i could see the grimace in her eyes . Probably she wanted to tell me something, probably she wanted to share something, probably a lot , probably it was important for her.
I felt a bit restless and my conscience was asking me to go out and let her in but by that time, i had learnt to avoid my instincts ant to close my ears against the voice of my conscience. i told myself that i was busy in more important things and perhaps mom was right . I should rather concentrate on my upcoming AIEEE exams. But something unusual happened. She turned towards the curtain where i was hiding myself near the window , and expressions on her face changed. Those were not of grimace anymore but of an acceptance. She had seen me . She had understood that every time she visited , i was home but i did not come to ask her to come in. This acceptance on her face hit me hard on heart. it was an expression that a child has on face when his parents leave him somewhere and passerbys say sympathetic words. Helplessness and an injured heart!! yes, her face expressed it accurately.So did her eyes which were moist as i remember. I did not have the courage to come out and look into them . I had myself believed that she had not seen me. But she left and never came again.
This incident disturbed me because i always used to say ,”Mriga, people are like this only. they never accept anyone completely. U are very nice. Everyone will accept you one day. The things they find unusual about you today, they will recognize you for the same some day. don’t worry ”.
i remember how her eyes shone on hearing this. But that day i proved how shallow i was like my words. I could neither believe my own words nor could help her believe them. I felt ashamed and guilty. However, time being the best healer let me forget about her for a while. i got involved in my life and got a job in a reputed MNC as a business analyst. Years passed and I never got time to think about Mriga.
Today after so many years , i am hearing her name again. ”There must be something important. i must go and find out ” , i said to myself .
As i got up, mom entered my room with a cup of tea and snacks. I immediately asked her,”Mom, what was anu aunty saying about Mriga??”
”Nothing much. Were you awake then? Why did not you come and meet her vidhu” Mom said reluctantly and evasively.
” I should have asked you same when Mriga used to come mom” a rejoinder came spontaneously.
Even i was amazed how it came . May be in so many years, i had forgotten to listen to myself. Today, it came out . Just her name was sufficient to bring out this courage which was hidden somewhere in me.
” Vidhi, we dont listen to our dreams and God’s orders . we find people around us more authoritative than God. we must carry his orders vidhu. we must do what we have been designed for” , Mriga said once.
”Are you answering me back Vidhi”?, mom asked.
she rarely calls me vidhi instead of vidhu. It only happens when she is really annoyed. I gauged the situation .
”come on muma. just tell me what anu aunty was saying about Mriga??” , i said before she frowns.
” I don’t know. everyone is saying that the girl is missing. Some people are even saying that they saw her boarding the bus which met an accident day before yesterday . God knows why this girl travelled so much. i never liked her. No body ever did.” , mom said in a careless irritated voice.
My ears went numb. I could not hear what she said after that. She left once i shouted at her to leave me alone. yes, i shouted.
Why did she travel? Of course she will. what was here for her except that parental home without parents , old furniture, loneliness and resentment. What was here for her other than the memories of her mother and her father’s rare visits. what was here for her other than that swing which the watchman had helped her fix? I wanted to cry loudly but something was struck in my throat. My eyes could not shed tears but my heart was wailing in an ear deafening voice. i gasped for breath. My mind will soon explode with questions and guilt . I sensed my legs trembling and my forehead sweating. how would i live with this guilt? How would i forget her last look? i would i live with that helplessness on her face? How would i tell everyone what i knew. only i did.
Yes, she was strange. Her father did not use to work overseas but was in the same city . He had another family. Her mom married her father secretly , calling it love marriage but could never make a place in his family. They had him married to another woman and with that , mriga’s mom was shattered. Young mriga had started growing up. She was exceptionally quiet , exceptionally innocent and exceptionally beautiful.
”Mom beats me up. Calls me names” , she once told me with teary eyes.
Her mom was not to be blamed for this and Mriga knew it. Any woman will lose her mind after what happened to her. But what was Mriga’s fault? Aunties in our locality never said good about mriga’s mom . Latter on same thing happened to mriga as well. She too could not remain in good books of people around us. How would she? People had their preconceived notions about both of them which determined their behaviour towards them. That’s what made her cut off from world and ask me those questions which i never wanted to reply.
One day as i came back from my coaching, mom was not home.
Maid said ” baby ji, Mriga’s mom has committed suicide. Madam ji has gone there only”.
I was shocked. I thought of mriga. But never went to her as my mom had forbidden me. Meanwhile , i got involved in exams , infatuations and fashion updates . I forgot about mriga untill one day she came . Yes, that was the day i hid myself behind that curtain. I regretted it then but i regret it more now. once again her beautiful face , her white dress, her her hair -band cladded hair float in front of my eyes. I felt my eyes getting moist again and the expressions on my face are same as she had that day. I will never forget her .
MRIG-NAYANI was her name. THE ONE WITH DEER’S EYES …..
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