Posts Tagged ‘LOVE That Has No End’

LOVE That Has No End 3

Posted: November 7, 2015 in STORY

It was the week the priest talked about, youth meeting and having fun. I was on sofa watching TV when my friend Kevin walked in fully dressed. He forced me to come for youth meeting as it was a national level meet up and girls would be around from all over country. For sake of Kevin I dressed and walked the steps of the church hall.

When I saw the crowd I felt like running back. With Kevin’s firm hand on my arm I was forced to take steps forward. After registering ourselves, we stood there searching for a place to sit holding registration badge in our hand. With Kevin busy standing and watching girls I stood there searching for empty chairs. After noticing some vacant chairs near the stage I just wondered how the meet up would go.

Time rolled and I lost the track. With fun filled activity throughout the day I made several friends from Manipur, Nagaland, Assam, Ranchi and Delhi. I enjoyed every bit of it. When finally day came to an end I enrolled my name to become an active member of the youth group.

With my sister looking for job after graduation, and I joining college for degree, the excitement of life’s new phase kept both of us busy.

It was a blessed day because I saw her for the first time in church. Priest was preaching the sermon and I was dozing off when Kevin pinched me and told me to open my eyes. He signaled me in direction of this girl who was seated in next row. I just wondered how Kevin spotted her siting in same row on other side of aisle. She was listening to the priest attentively. With her occasionally blinking eyes she managed to focus on the source of her hearing. With her left hand slowly pulling her hair behind her ears, she covered her yawning mouth with right hand. She closed her eyes for what it looked like glorious one minute, took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again there was no trace of slumber. I and Kevin both were staring at her from our side bench. When we got some stares from people to focus on altar, we looked at the crucifix wondering how one can look so beautiful just sitting and listening to the lecture. All we wanted was to know more about this beautiful angel with brown eyes, outlined by thick black eyebrows. Her deep black curly hair made me wince with pleasure. We were dying to know whether right cheek had the similar dimple like left, whether she sits in same place every Sunday….

I tried to listen to the priest but my all attention was on the girl. No matter how much I tried she brutally attracted me like a merciless magnet. After the mass when Kevin searched in the crowd he couldn’t spot her. We both were heart broken. With a hope that next Sunday we could spot we went home with heavy heart.

That Monday I left my college and went to purchase souvenir to be given to my friends on my youth meet to South Africa. As I was walking back through a road which had to pass through this famous women’s college I stopped to have well known meduvada, and there she was with her friends eating the vada pav and I froze to ground. It was the second time I saw her and she still looked breath taking. She was eating while talking to her friends. With her long earing dangling whenever she turned her head she looked amazing. How I controlled the temptations to talk to her. I was bit happy, even though our colleges were different train station was same. If I am lucky I can get the glimpse of the goddess of my heart every day. Next day I came earlier than my usual time to catch the train with hope to see her, when all the daily commuters stared at me air was gone from my balloon. I was little disappointed but I was not sad. I had hope, hope that soon I will see her and when I see I will talk to her no matter what.

With most waited Sunday near Kevin and I got ready for church on time. That beautiful angel was inspiration to us to go to mass or else imagine visiting same place just to follow their so called commandment, how boring!! We waited for the unknown angel in the same place but she didn’t show up, we were like the energy equation without energy in it. After the mass when my mom called me to meet someone, I said bye to Kevin and stood next to my mom. My mom started to tell about some lady while we waited. With my mind still wondering the reasons for absence of my angel I stood there passively listening to my mom. My mom continued while church priest walked towards us with a middle aged lady by his side.

Priest said she has a daughter. When mother is so pretty I am sure daughter will be prettier”. I just chuckled listening to my mom’s blabbering. Women!, I tell you can cook up whole story in one minute.

Priest introduced that lady as Carmen. Born catholic married to hindu Carmen had two kids. Carmen shared saying “I fell in love with Dileep and wanted to marry him. I married him against my parents and families wish. I didn’t baptize my kids because I didn’t feel it’s necessary, but my daughter who will be 18 soon wants to be baptized. I don’t know why all of sudden she wants to be catholic, its not like we followed any religion back then. Once in a while I used to go to church and sometimes I would take my kids along. I tried to talk to her but all she wants is to be baptized. I don’t know whether it’s wise thing or not because nobody knows the future”.

Priest ,my mother and Carmen started taking turns in expressing their views, I stood there passively listening to them and actively wondering where the girl disappeared. After a long hour of advice and consoling session when finally my mom bid her farewell to the small party I was cursing the girl. “Wondering why she wants to be baptized, she might fall in love with Hindu guy, it will be easy then, why to make things complicated?”. My mom gave me one of her “you talk nonsense look and continued to walk towards home.

                                                                                                                 To Be Continued(without delay….)

LOVE That Has No End 2

Posted: November 6, 2015 in STORY

Residing in India’s most overcrowded place Mumbai is not in many people’s destiny. You may not have spacious parks to jog but those overcrowded local trains, Mumbai’s well known brand Vada pav, those chat pata street chats, filthy joo beach, street vendors in Bandra, people begging and crying to Mother Mary in Mahim, which with time gets into your daily life. I am proud to say I was born and raised in never sleeping place metropolitan Mumbai. Staying in 4th floor of multistory building I enjoyed my early childhood playing cricket in our building parking lot, knocking everybodys door during deewali, dancing for the building’s annual get-together. As a boy I enjoyed riding cycle in the jammed road and helping with Rahim chacha to fix my punctured cycle tyre. With all the given description if anyone assumes I had a happy childhood then they don’t know that their assumption is merely built on the foundation of cyclone, shaky and windy. With my father working in gulf like a typical Indian Christian family, I was never attached to my father. Once in three years I would see his never smiling face and wait with hope for his date of departure. With my mind occupied with complicated math’s problems, relationship-with-father was the last thing I wanted to worry. I enjoyed my every single day playing with my building kids, running kites from the terrace of my building, day and night, until my father’s arrival from the gulf.

My father would arrive unannounced, all of sudden, without prior notice or clues. I still remember those times when I will be in the toilet , wasting water and singing some Hindi songs I picked from music channel, When I come out after half an hour find my father scanning me head to toe. Before my nerves could take in the news of my father’s arrival I would wish him and run into the sanctuary of my room. Even my friend’s father’s were working in abroad unlike me they waited for their father’s arrival. They talked about the gifts and clothes their dad bought for them. While I just sat and watched the excitement on their face.

To begin with my father was a sadist, sadist who hated his own kids. He wanted us to wish him every morning before we brush our teeth and at night before we go to bed. If we miss one day he made sure he punished us. Not talking was his way of punishing us, sometimes I felt I merely die without talking just listening to the nearby train whistle and traffic sound. The cold war was worse than any violent blood shed I felt. His cold blooded eyes would follow our every move. If sometimes we drop anything by mistake he would start scolding and make us stand outside the house for hours. When he was home he wanted us at home no matter Saturday or Sunday or any other vacations. Place like Mumbai where playing with your building kids is heaven we were locked in our house watching the TV with our father. He would put the channel he liked making sure we watched it along with him. While changing channel he would put cartoon channel and wait to watch the excitement on our face. As soon as we focus our eyes on TV he would change the channel. Most of the time I would doze off on the couch or go to my room. But my poor sister, she never had the guts to walk out on my father. She would sit there forcing herself to keep her eyes open. Till date I am not sure why my father hated my sister so much. In every move she made he would find fault. Whenever my father was at home it was like living in hell. My mother cried seeing us locked up in the room but she refused to shed tears in front of us. Many times she tried to talk to him but all he would say “you stay away Helen, you don’t understand all this”. My mom Struggled to be a good wife and good mother. Being a polite person she never raised her voice knowing how much her kids were suffering. When my father used to go to take his bath she would give us bowl of gajar ka halwa and assure us this ordeal will get over soon.

For my father his brothers and their family were everything, unfortunately he never considered us. He never really got anything for us from Dubai while the goodies he bought for his family mocked at us from his half opened bag. But it never bothered me and Hazel because my mother made sure she bought nicest things for us.

Sometimes he would say “get dressed and pack your bags, we are going to visit our relatives.” It never seemed important to him to mention which relatives we are visiting. Always we would end up packing our things and getting ready not knowing our destination. It was like boarding the train without knowing the desination, a total mental torture.

With little money he used to send to my mother, it was very difficult to spend the days without worrying about next day. I still remember the day when my mother asked for 5 grands for my school fees,all he said was “I don’t have money Helen, I will send once I get my salary”. Months passed and the promised money never came. Later we got to know that he paid one of his niece college fees which was around 50 grands. How much I cried under the cold water of shower only I know. That’s when I started to hate him even more.

When my mother realized how easily our father could ignore us she started the dabba business. Thanks to busy Bombay life where there is lot of demand for homemade food. With her firm decision and hard work business started to bloom. Every day she would get up at 3 and start preparing the food. Sometimes I and Hazel helped her with chopping vegetables. When we had exams Savitha ayee would ring our door bell at 5 with smiling face. My sister couldn’t see out mother working day and night when she started giving tuition. Even though we didn’t had enough money we had peace, we had each other to comfort. I never missed my prodigal father. I just prayed may his soul rest in peace whether on earth or hell.

Days passed no contacts with father and we thought it’s for the best. One night suddenly he came unannounced as usual and went to bedroom and slept like nothing had happened. When I saw my sister trembling with fear I got up from my bed walked to my parents bed room. Something had to be done immediately I knew it. Caught him by the collar and dragged him to the main door. He was never my father in anyway so I didn’t care. My sister was trying to intersect. With my boiling anger and hatred to the man there was no one who could utter a word. Growing as hot blooded teenager gave me the strength and my anger within me helped me to take a stand I didn’t know. He was bit surprise but he didn’t say anything. I went to his room and bought his unopened bags and told him to get lost and never show his ugly face.

When he looked at my mother and said “you are not going to do anything about it?” , my mother walked away without saying any thing. What’s the use of having a husband who is not around when you need him?

When he left the house with his still unopened bags and those gulf tags without saying a word I was boiling with rage. With my mother and sister by my side I was able to cool down. All I wanted was to get the degree as soon as possible and start working. With all hope for future I cleared my HSC with Distinction.

Days passed without much worries. With my mom’s ever smiling face and sister’s laughter life looked beautiful to me again. When my mother feared anger, hatred building up in me she got worried and spoke to the church priest to talk some sense into me. One Sunday after the mass the priest stopped me near the church door . With his 5.3 feet he didn’t even made up to my shoulder. When he realized I was not at all interested to see him or his office he signaled other waiting people and walked with me. He selected an isolated place and started to talk. He spoke about Christianity, beautiful life, future. When the topic slowly turned into broken families I got to know his real interest. To play along I nodded as if I listened to everything. After 15 minutes of non stop chattering with the priest when I glanced at my wrist watch to indicate I am getting late, he said “there’s a national level youth meeting next week. Try to come, it will be fun”. I chuckled and walked away. Mother’s worry too much and priests talk way to much.

To Be Continued(without delay….)

LOVE That Has No End

Posted: November 6, 2015 in STORY

love that has no end

I looked at the family portrait again and moved my fingers slowly over my mother’s smiling face. With little bit grey hair, black big sun patch on her right cheek she looked bit old. Thick black rimmed glasses were on their place. My Mom, most humble, strongest person I ever knew. I smiled and moved my fingers to the young, beautiful girl standing next to her. With those black thick hair, non-auction able dimples she looked like a beautiful angel to me. If that small kid was not held affectionately, close to her heart like a loving mother nobody would have believed she was mother of a 3 year old kid. Even though Hazel was 4 years elder to me, she had a boon to look way too younger than her real age. Then my eyes were captured by my nephew Iyan, with his one arm around his grandmother’s neck and other around his mother’s he looked adorable to me. I tried to shuffle his hair like always, mere hard copy of three of my more loving people made me realize how much I miss them. How I wished they were present here with me, in flesh and blood.

I chuckled and slowly placed the portrait back in its place. Every time I missed them I just stared at the family portrait. When the doorbell rang I risked a glance at the portrait for a last time and walked towards the door. When I saw my neighbour Savitha ayee standing there with a box I gave her my usual smile and said “Savith ayee, this was not necessary, I was about to start cooking anyway”. The lady in her mid 40’s forced the box in my hand and said “When Helen was here, almost every day she would knock my door with a special dish. You keep quiet boy, let this Savitha ayee pamper you little bit”. When I realized I don’t have option I just took the box and thanked her. My mom’s culinary skills were famous in my whole building. When 6 years back Savitha ayee’s husband and only one son passed away in a brutal road accident my mom was the one who stayed with her and forced some food into her. There after my mom made sure one box would reach Savitha ayee’s apartment whenever she cooked something special. Savitha ayee scanned my face and said “I miss her, miss chopping those vegetables for her catering business. She was the only true friend I had in this building. Anyways have your dinner and go to bed on time Alan”. Saying good night she walked away. I stood there for a minute smiling. “Mom I am getting profit for your good deed” telling myself I closed the door.

I opened the box and inhaled the mouthwatering smell of pulav. That’s when I realized how hungry I was. I picked the spoon from table, sitting on the couch I gave life to the TV. I emptied the box thanking million times to god for blessing me with such a sensible neighbor. When my phone started ringing, my face lit up like 100v bulb when I realized who it was calling. The display picture was enough to send sensational chills through my spine. I pressed the mute button of TV and answered the call “So what did Savitha ayee got for you today Alan?”. I smiled and said “Are you spying on me Joshna? Cant a man have his dinner with mere company of his loneliness in peace..? My heart bloomed when I heard her enthralling giggles. How I wished she was there in front of my eyes to capture the moment. Her sparkling brown eyes, thick long eye brows and shoulder length hair .I closed my eyes to recall her lively image and said “we are meeting tomorrow after work, Kevins bday party remember?”. She made one of her many cutest sound and said “Thank god you reminded me Alan, else I would have forgotten. You are such a darling, love you baby”. Even though “I love you too” was at the tip of my tongue I controlled and pictured her regretting on her mistake. “That just came from nowhere” she said. With satisfaction rooting in my nerves . When I realized there is nothing else to talk I said “hitting bed early today, need to get up early.”

Dont those shifts ruin your health Alan”. Concern or love he fail to notice

When I was sure she disconnected the call after saying good night, I whispered to the receiver “sleep tight my love, sweet dreams”.

After having my dinner I sat on the couch watching the news still with no volume. Random pictures came and went I sat still, with eyes on TV and mind rolling years back.

                                                                                                                                                                                                        To Be Continued(without delay….)