IMAGO

The melted snow formed isles on the window sills and slowly tickled away. The water made the ground slushy and muddy. The snow had covered the once dirty road and the now melted water had exposed it. Children flocked to school carrying their heavy satchel , shouting and teasing each other at regular intervals. Their voices echoed in the alley. I peered through the windows overlooking the lanes ,sneaking through the rows of houses and, was a bit surprised, to see Fredrick, hasten through the icy cold water pooled on the streets. I watched him vanish into the fog at the fag end of the lane. I was curious to know what he was doing so early in the morning as he was a habitual drunkard and was a late riser. He rarely left home and lived off his wife’s money.

My thoughts were disturbed by the clang of tea cups as Samuel placed them over the table along with the newspaper. I sat on the terrace every morning and found the tranquillity serene. I reflected back on my life and was lost in self congratulation. The pictorials beauty of the house that once surrounded my ancestral home was intact. I had returned to it after taking a voluntary retirement. I refurnished the dilapidated house I inherited from my grand parents, fitted it with modern equipment and gave it a fresh lease. The courtyard surrounding the house was never immaculate and I had left it to ferment with time. Array of creepers, asymmetry of wild flowers grew in abundance .Birds of various colours built their nests and it was a mystery to watch the forest unravel it’s belly to different sounds of birds and smells of different flowers. I loved the asymmetry in forests and the canopy of tall trees gave my frayed nerves a calming effect.It was a ritual to harness wild flowers everyday and decorate them in my house.This was a true reflection of a man who was in peace with himself.

The sight of Fredrick still lingered in my mind and I asked Samuel if he knew what sort of man Fredrick was.”He is a good for nothing fellow . A wayward vagabond who lived off at others money. I don’t know how Elena bears him.” Said Samuel.

The name of Elena caught me offguard and I immediately picked up the newspaper pretending to read ,in order to hide my silly tears welling up my eyes.

Elena was an artist. She  had a flair for playing the piano and the guitar and gave performances in private functions, Hotels and concerts. She earned her livelihood through this talent she was born with. Business was good when youth was at her side but now with the competition from the younger lot she could hardly perform..Elena was finding it hard to manage her home . She was barely able to make the two ends meet. At the junction was a lazy husband who depended on her for everything . She looked exhausted and worn out at the end of each day. She dreaded, she couldn’t take it any more and was waiting for her patience to snap.

I first saw Elena in a concert on a visit to my grandparents in Sikkim. I was sixteen just out of school and she was around twenty . She was like a dream meant for a waking life. Her porcelain skin and delicate figure won her many admirers. I could not forget her soft voice and the occasional laughter when she was speaking to her friends after the concert. No man could resist her. She would have been the reason of many married men going astray. She was meant to be pampered and spoilt with riches and praise. She had many suitors but her pride and arrogance seldom bewitched her. She was fit for a  king.

I was enchanted by her but she never mingled with the local boys . After I finished my engineering degree I moved to America for further studies . Elena occupied a large portion of my romantic escapades although I dated quite a few female mates. She was sacred. I felt and dreamt to be one with her some day.I was faithful to her despite the fact   that we had  never spoken to each other.

Time  flew by and I met the charming Marisa .Together we built a beautiful home. She was an energetic woman who loved her work in the bank and kept her free time devoted to her home. We enjoyed every aspect of marital bliss except that we could not become parents. Marisa disapproved of adoption as well as surrogacy. The absence of a child in Marisa’s life made her very selfish. Although she had a forensic eye she lacked a sensitive side. She would go about her daily duties in a nonchalant way and that at times took me by surprise.

”Emotions has no shelf life ,”she said . Nevertheless I missed the presence of a child immensely.No amount of persuasion could make Marisa go for a child other than her own which was not possible in her damaged Fallopian tubes. I could n’t become a father and I was forever looking for closure on this issue but was in vain.

It was a call from destiny that I had a chance to visit Sikkim to solve a financial dispute involving my ancestral home that I met Elena, after an interval of ten long years.  She was still magical to me. She awakened the dormant feelings in me . Seeing her was surreal and she looked ethereal.I felt the gush of passion rush up my veins. She appeared delicate and age had creased her skin but she was still a reflection of her past serene regal self.She was a timeless beauty.I did not let go this time to talk to her.I think loneliness ,had drove us together and we spoke like old friends.She still carried the aura of arrogance and found it difficult to agree on various issues but she was a magnetic charmer and I enjoyed the moments I spent talking to her.

My frequent visits to Sikkim bought us closer and slowly she disrobed her secrets to me .She had been a secretive woman and refused to trust others.My assumptions about her revealed that she was indeed priceless.She liked my ancestral house but disliked the garden for she preferred an immaculate one with orchids and other blooms one nutured.I was fascinated by her warmth behind her steel encased exterior.She attributed this to a tough bringing up in her early childhood.

Having  lost her parents at as an infant, she was raised by her foster parents who could not give her the love she sought.At an early age she learnt to fend for her self and got acclimatised to the rugged world .The dubious people she met day and night made her a cautious woman who used her mind over her heart.

Our nocturnal rendezvous led us to fall in love with each other when we clearly knew that the debacle was in vain and doomed .My escapades in Sikkim extended into frequent visits with my wife’s unsuspecting faith.I was pulled into the vortex of Elena .I felt light .I was off gravity.I was at the pinnacle of romance but I was relaxed in the threshold of doom.I was living my self- my other self.I was so hungry of insight into the world of something so magical that I manufactured it.This happened for an year and one fine day Elena vanished ,never to meet me again.I tried hard to trace her but all my messages and calls returned unanswered.I could not fathom the trench she got lost.I was devastated.Nobody was there to share my grief .I was mourning alone .

I was in no position to  share my woes with anyone lest it would be a travesty of trust.I had lost the woman I loved as well as belied the trust of my wife.I was riddled with guilt and grief and it was difficult to survive .I had to survive that ordeal  and nobody except myself could be my motivator.Slowly I accepted the fact that the stolen moments were to end and that was for the best .I was a changed man .I rarely socialised and went about my work as an obligation.I  had lost the charm of life and I blamed it to my midlife meltdown.

Gradually I made peace with myself and soon began to trespass moments of happiness.Exploring the world had always excited me.I took my wife to various places around the world .She too was fascinated by new people new places.We had done it all.The cruise ,the safaris,the festivals,the monuments,the food tasting.We always planned the next destination at our present vacation.Each geography has it’s history and each history has it’s biology ,economics ,art and culture.It was irony to know that the zealots who gave us wars,poverty and illiteracy also inherited the same places.

Inspite of travelling so much, the only place I found peace and oneness was Sikkim.The changu lake was frozen in winter and formed a playground for tourists atop yaks.The fierce Testa river ran its course through Sikkim.The visit to the orchids festivals was a treat to the eyes.My wife loved the skeletal plant and the asymmetry of the petals of the flowers.The plant had no match when it bloomed in spring in the crevices of the mountains .The mouth  watering momos were now available throughout the world.The pine ,the spurce trees added grandeur to the lust green environment of SikkimI. I had made up my mind that I would settle down in Sikkim at Gangtok on retirement.I wanted to breathe my last there.

I was busy weaving the tapestry of life when my wife was diagonised with cancer of the colon.It was in the terminal stage.She immediately went for surgery to remove the damaged portion and was advised chemotherapy.She could see death at her door and refused chemotherapy.My respects for her multiplied when I saw her fight the dreaded disease with stoic courage.She remained calm in the face of adversity and ready for all the pain.She went about her life normally until she could not take the  crippling pain of one organ failing after another.She fought hard but I could see her losing strength.I was by her side giving her false hopes to put up a brave front but as always the disease won over her willingness to live and Marisa breathed her last in her sleep after her night prayers.She was calm and left me with a composure on her face.I lost a companion and was infected with loneliness.Finally I decided to spend my old age in peace and so settled in Sikkim- my abode .

I rarely left home only to shop and for my evening walks.I hardly mingled and led a solitary life.After about a month I received a letter from the Kalingpong hospital for the criminally insane , asking me to meet them at an urgent date.I was completely distressed to know, it was regarding Elena Williams.She was convicted for the murder of her son Jack ,a month ago and had sought permission to see me .My beautiful Elena was serving time, was a rude shock to me and I was oblivious of it till then.It was a shame.Elena had never spoken about a son, she had in all our past meetings.I left for Kalingpong the same night .I had not indulged in any camaraderie where someone could reveal about Elena.I reached Kalingpong by bus and decided to walk the distance to the hospital by myself.I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not feel the snow falling.The light falling snow felt like pearls from  heavens. A small sparrow swirled around my head and flew back into the nest in the chestwood tree.They were all covered in snow and looked like ghosts. The whole town bore a dead look and in it’s silence I could hear my heavy breathing .The pictorious town  seemed mourning.

On reaching the hospital I had to complete certain security checks and after an hour I was permitted to see the convict.Elena had given up food and the jail authorities had allowed her request to meet me on humanitarian ground.I was going to meet Elena after twenty years .She must be around sixty five by now.I was led to a dark alley which ended in a cell.Elena was kept in  solitary  confinement.  Life is made up of moments.We were both alone .Alone without each other.Nothing makes us more vulnerable than loneliness.I was shocked to see Elena.She looked frail and defeated.Her eyes were blood shot and and filled with guilt.She had taken a life and it drained her’s too.We were hesitant to start a conversation for a long time.We never imagined our life ,could lead us to this day.She had aged a lot in few days and lost a lot of weight.Her crime had left it’s lasting image on her retina.She was nothing other than a murderer.

”I killed our child “. she said.I could not gather what she said but the shock of the statement raced my heart beats .I felt nausea and vomit raising through my throat.I somehow composed myself .She felt insidious to me  then.She continued,” I was pregnant with your child .He was born a spastic.I raised him but found it difficult to meet his constant needs.With no help and a drunkard husband ,I couldn’t take it  any more.I poisoned him.He died peacefully.I ended his agony.I have made peace with my self.I  am dying and is between two deaths .One when I killed my son and one when my body will decompose.Please forgive me .Forgive me”.

A flood of questions arose in my mind .She said,” Your wife knew about us.She did not adopt the child for me too.I eclipsed from your life and bore our child”.Before I could ask any further questions the jail authorities took me away.I could not say  goodbye to her.I tried requesting them for some more time but the jail authority did not relent.Finally I left the premises.I was running fever.I rushed to a near by hospital as I knew I would collapse.I was hallucinating .I was running amok naked in the snow wailing and nobody was present .I was alone.After I garnered some strength I came back to Gangtok.

Samuel took good care of me and nursed me back to health but I had lost the strength.I tried to hold the molecules of conversation between Elena and myself but only a deadly revelation came to the fore.Why did she not have the courage to come to me for help?Why did Marisa  not tell me her woes?My whole life which looked like poetry to me was now an orchestra of falsehood.I tried to dismantle brick by brick my relationship between my wife and myself and also between Elena and myself but I found that they had changed the punctuation of my life.They together had changed the meaning of my life.

We live by an Imago- which is a concept ,an ideal, we have of our loved one.We never believe that the roof  of our mind has crevices where darkness lurks and Devil spreads it’s fangs, tightening its tentacles over our vulnerability. .I had forgiven both of them.To Forgive is both conscious and unconscious state of mind.It happens with time.We don’t choose.Elena quietly waded into a stream one night and found solace in death.

I have a beautiful photograph of my son Jack on the mantle piece above the fireplace.Every night I watch him sitting besides me as I drift away to sleep.I regularly visit Elena and Marisa and lay wild flowers over their graves.Jack is still not born to me and I have also not buried him .I wait for him as I watch the children  laugh their way to school.I try hard to quieten the voices in my mind but I fail.I need closure.I did not get one .

–END–