thecreativespace
It was late in the evening—a cool and fine one. He walked as if he were a sleepwalker. His heart was restless. Never had he dreamt that this would happen. But it did, after a long period of eighteen years.
As he walked taking short paces along the less busy streets, memories crowded into his mind as clouds are heaped upon clouds in the sky. He looked back—to the years that had passed already and as he remembered the days gone by, tears flowed down his eyes.
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That too was a fine evening. He had a peculiar fondness for such evenings in those days. But on that day, he was gloomy. His heart was aching for something…something that remained vague to him! Sadness filled his eyes, and his handsome face bore a melancholic expression.
A fine Herald car stopped close beside him, waking him from his realm of dreams. He turned and looked to see the dimpled smile on her face! She looked very pretty and charming to him at that moment. Still, his heart was far from happy.
Putting her head outside, she said cheerfully, “Hello! My dear! Where are you going? Please get inside and we can have a pleasant drive.”
He tried to smile but miserably failed in that attempt.
“Why do you stare? Get in, my dear!” she urged him.
It seemed to him pointless to refuse. Without a word he got inside the car and sat beside her.
Starting the engine, she enquired.
“Where were you all these days, Suran?”
“Oh, I was busy,” he replied without looking at her face.
All the time she was talking and talking. But she was forced to content herself with the few words she got in response.
“Let us spend some time in the park.”
She parked the car in the shade of a tree and they walked together. He unwillingly sat beside her on the cement bench.
For moments there was silence. She shot an inquiring look at him. In his big, lovely eyes, bordered by long-eyelashes, she saw a layer of sadness.
“Why, Suran! You look so worried. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? But I can’t believe it.”
“Then don’t!”
“You are so changed today. Tell me frankly—why do you worry? There may be reasons.”
He noted a serious tone in her words and felt that the moment had come for him to tell her everything.
“Yes, of course, there are reasons. And you ought to know them.”
“Then tell me.”
He remained silent with his gaze fixed on the flowers nearby.
“Tell me Suran.” She was impatient. With his eyes still on the lovely flowers, he murmured:
“But I never expected it from you, Reena!”
And, his eyes met hers. She saw that the big eyes were clouded.
“What! What have I done?”
She asked.
“Nowadays I hear a lot about you.”
“You mean, remarks?”
“Yes—the worst.”
She laughed and said:
“Oh, no wonder!”
“Why?” His brows curved in irritation.
“People always say the worst. They are blind to the good points.”
“So, you are denying them from the very beginning?”
He asked her coldly.
“No, no—you haven’t said what you have heard. Then how can I deny or admit it?”
“I’ll tell you. But I need clear answers.”
“Of course, I’ll give.”
For a while he sat thinking about how to start his questioning.
Then he began:
“What’s the relation between you and Sulesh?”
“Why, we are cousins.”
“He is your cousin! Not your lover?”
He asked angrily.
“Lover! My Lord! What do you mean? He’s only a cousin of mine. He had come from America after so many years and I went around with him, just for company. My parents never objected to it. If you mean this—?"
“You mean, you have gone to the hotels and tourist centres with him just for company?”
There was a mocking tone in his voice.
“Yes, of course. Please don’t take it in a bad sense, Suran! All the time my brother was with us.”
“I know your brother—one who helps his sister to collect lovers!”
“Suran! Please stop this nonsense.”
Her voice was raised.
“I am in my senses—you know—Now, what about the other chap—Sherry?”
“Sherry? He’s only 18! Six years younger than me. Don’t be suspicious, Suran!”
“Haven’t you gone for parties, dramas, and other functions with him?”
“Yes. I am very fond of him. I consider him a younger brother.”
Her eyes were beginning to overflow as she spoke.
“Reena! Don’t make a fool of me anymore. There remains a lot more to say. But I am not going to say. You have excuses for everything.”
He eyed her. Her tears could not soften his hard heart.
“Oh, Suran! It’s unbearable! I have done nothing bad. Don’t misunderstand me. Trust my words.”
He saw her lips trembling, but he ignored it.
“I had trusted them once. But now, I do not, and I have no faith in you. You are a coquette, flirting with every boy,” he said coldly.
“Oh, it’s terrible Suran! You’ll repent for this one day, remember!” She screamed.
“All right. That doesn’t matter.” He stood up. “You can have all your boyfriends. I am going and we’ll never meet again. Wish you good luck!”
He stood looking for a while at her eyes and then walked off.
“Suran!”
He heard her calling him. But he never looked back. But there were tears in his eyes too.
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Days, months, and years passed … long, long eighteen years …!
…The man introduced himself to the lady-librarian with golden-framed specks.
“I am Roy’s father.”
“Oh, you are!” Her eyes sparkled for one moment. She smiled and greeted him.
“Sit down, please!”
He sat facing her. The middle-aged lady stared at him secretly.
“I want to know why you had asked me to come here.” He inquired politely.
“Yes, I’ll tell you. By the way, you don’t recognize me, do you?”
“No,” He replied.
As she smiled at him, dimples appeared on her cheeks. In her forties, she still looked pretty.
“Then, guess!”
He stared at her trying to recollect, but he could not.
“I can’t guess.”
“Quite forgotten the old familiar face—eh?”
She asked him with a sad smile. Yet he couldn’t bring back the memories.
“Well, I’ll introduce myself. I am Miss Reena Johnson,” she said with a stress on the word ‘Miss.’
He stared and was puzzled! Looking at her with unbelieving eyes, he murmured—
“Reena…?”
“Yes, the coquette who flirted with every boy, but remains unmarried.”
The words hurt his heart. His face became pale. He felt guilty.
The silence was fraught with unspoken thoughts. It seemed as though their tongues were tied down.
At last, he broke the terrible silence.
“Forgive me, Reena! I was so cruel to you. The fault was on my part. Please pardon me.”
She said nothing, but smiled with tears in her grey eyes.
He went on:
“I am suffering from my guilt. You know, my wife has been ill for ten years!”
“I am sorry.” She expressed her sympathy.
“Eighteen long years have passed since we parted.” He sighed.
“You remember the last scene, Suran?”
“Of course, Reena! I have often thought of it. Yes, now I am repenting. Reena, as you said, I am so sorry that I destroyed your life.”
Tears rolled down his eyes.
“Never mind! Yet I have lived and still, I am living.”
“How could you bear this loneliness, Reena? How cheerful you were!”
She smiled and sighed.
“Ah, but I am accustomed to this loneliness.”
“Reena! Don’t you hate me?”
“Hate you? How can I hate you, Suran? Though I had lost you forever, you were mine in my imagination.”
Tears rushed into her eyes.
He sat looking at her silently.
Then he stood up.
“I am going, Reena! I cannot endure this.”
She spoke nothing as he turned and walked away, leaving her behind with her memories and agonies.
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He awoke from his recollections when he heard the church bell ringing. At a distance, he saw the cemetery with the crosses standing upright looking like symbols of agony….
For hours he stood there, looking …!
As he walked back home, shadows paced ahead of him in the shade of the streetlights. He thought of himself as a shadow. While he walked, looking at the shadows he remembered the lines:
“Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.”
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(Aniamma Joseph: Former Professor of English, she is a bilingual writer. She writes articles, poems, short stories, novels and plays in Malayalam and English. Her novel Ee Thuruthil Njan Thaniye received the Kesari Award from DC Books. Other published works include Hailstones in My Palms, a collection of poems; and Ardhavrutham, a novel among others. She is also a translator, and 3 of her translations including a novel Ahalya by Dr. Rani Binoy (into English) and Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe (into Malayalam) are to be published shortly. Email: anniejoseph10@yahoo.com)