Social Short Story – Swan Song to Weeping Monsoon…
Social Short Story – Swan Song to Weeping Monsoon…
Again a monsoon! As usual, it is raining like hell. And there she sits, in her reclining chair in the balcony. Her taste buds get irked by something saline. She realizes that the threshold of her eyes to withstand the brimming over of her feelings was surpassed, that too as usual. Silent raindrops from her sky (eyes), find their way down her solemn cheeks.
Sometimes she feels she is not herself any more, but memories remind her she is very much herself, they help her to remain herself. She cries when it rains during the monsoons, since sixteen years. Nothing psychological, better name it emotional. The vibrant young beauty, who always meditated on her peachy dreams with her beloved, turned to a silent, dull woman, in her early forties today, who gives the impression of a woman in her fifties. Call the culprit fate, nothing else. She lost her fiancé in a terrible plane crash during a monsoon sixteen years back.
It may not be that much tear-jerking story for others, when compared to the other melting stories taking place around us on a daily basis. But it was her story that really justifies the observation,
“There’s a story behind every person. There’s a reason why they’re the way they are. They aren’t just like that because they want to. Something in the past created them, and sometimes it’s impossible to fix them.”
“She became someone else after that”, said her near and dear ones. She became silent, lonely, short tempered and sometimes indifferent. But to whom? Her life? Her fate?
Her memories of her beloved, their dreams and the castles they had built together in the air were the only wave makers in her so still, dead life. She had everything else. She and her fiancé were in real love, say platonic love, which is uncommon these days. Without dates, without bragging, they loved, pure affection and sincerity bonded them. They dreamt a life of peace, of happiness, not only to them but all around them by doing something meaningful. Simple living and high thinking attracted them. They longed to be a family, have a kid, a house that is home (all houses are not homes!) and help the flat ones in the ways they can. But dreams remained dreams and she remained a lifeless soul in a living body.
“Meow…” She sat up, wiped the tears off and looked at her feet. Friday is sleeping peacefully between her feet. Friday is her only mate in the house, a cute and furry cat. It’s cold and Friday wants to feel warm. It follows her everywhere in the house like a kid and she keeps Friday just for that feeling, the feeling that some one needs you always around. She passed her fingers through his head to back, and with a rearranged position, Friday again sank to the depths of the shallow sleep of a cat.
Before leaning to the chair again, the calling bell rings in her ears. She startles, but gets up.
“Who comes here now, in this rain?”
Friday’s irritation for the broken sleep echoes another “meow”. But as she gets up, Friday follows her to the door.
She opens the door and finds Leela, social worker of the place, folding her wet umbrella. Behind her stand a young woman and a boy, under another wet umbrella, leaving both of them almost drenched. The woman is weeping; the boy is looking innocently at Friday.
“Madam, this is Savitri and his son. They used to live in that small house near our river. In the thunder and heavy rains, the coconut tree near their house fell on the house this morning, leaving nothing but a mound of mud. She is working in some houses here as a housemaid. When this happened she was at Mr. Nair’s house for her work. She had taken the boy with her…thank god for saving these two…’ Leela pauses.
Leela looks at the woman, she stares at the floor and closes her mouth as she weeps. The boy is just fascinated by the cute, lovely Friday and he is smiling at the cat. Did the boy expect the cat to smile back?
Leela continues, ‘I am here to request a help. Till they find another safe place, if you don’t mind, can you accommodate them here? They were reluctant to come here thinking that you will refuse, I gave them hope. And you know, her husband is no more and no relatives too…’
She thinks, ‘I was weeping minutes before about a past, which can’t be made any better. Here stands, in front of me, another weeping woman with her kid asking for a shelter, if I say yes, it will make their future better, so why can’t I let them?’
‘Of course Leela. They can stay here…(She meant ‘as long as they want, even if it means a life time’…but it didn’t come out at that moment). I can understand their agony, let she come in….’.
Certain moments make certain decisions quick, because at that hour our heart longs exactly for that!
‘Savitri, come in with your boy, don’t hesitate…I am only a human being and I live here alone!’
Savitri folds her palms and fells at her feet. No words coming from her mouth. Certain genuine feelings don’t need words, or may be words are powerless, sometimes.
She gets into the house looking thankfully at Leela. Leela pats her and gestures to go in. Savitri holds the boy’s little hand, it is understood from the boy’s face that he doesn’t know what is going on, because his eyes and mind are too fixed on Friday. Friday goes in, and the boy follows. Leela leaves thanking the woman of the house for the great help.
Savitri stands in that room, as if she has entered an unknown world. She is not looking around, but looking down, tears haven’t stopped. But she speaks now.
‘I don’t know when can I build another shelter. I have been working as a housemaid for the past four months only. I don’t have enough money to build even a hut very quickly. I had saved a small amount to send the boy to the government school nearby this time. But I don’t think that will happen with all these losses. May be he is not lucky enough to study…’ She looks at the boy. The boy is now looking at his mother’s face in doubt.
‘So what were you doing before starting work as a housemaid?’
‘I used to stitch and make a living by that….but five months ago, the boy got a bad fever …I couldn’t gather enough money for his medicines and treatment, so had to sell the machine. To live without machine I had to take up some job, what job can I get other than a housemaid’s so quickly? At least I need to feed him, he is the only thing left for me on this earth, he is the only reason for I am alive…we don’t have any relatives…his father left us all two years back, it was jaundice they say…’
Her beloved’s smiling face, his last smile before parting comes to her mind, it is upsetting, at the same time refreshing (though the adjectives don’t match, it is a truth! The pain of loss and the joy of a graceful love, everyone doesn’t know that!)
‘Savitri, as I already told you I live here alone, you and your boy can stay here as long as you want. I will say you should do the work in which you are good, stitching, rather than going to some houses and toiling there….I can buy you a sewing machine…..And I can send the boy to school too…what you say?’
Savitri doesn’t say anything. Again, gratitude doesn’t always speak.
She gives her saree and asks her to change her wet clothes. She doesn’t know what to give the boy, may be she will have to buy some new clothes for him. The thought itself excites her.
She sees the new friends running in the house, the boy and Friday. Some times Friday leads and the boys follows, some times the boy leads and Friday follows. It seems the cat too is happy about the guests.
Calmly and easily, the house alters to a home. We lose something in this life, agree, but don’t we gain something too, in the long run?
May be it is time for her to stop crying during monsoon rains!
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