A walk to remember

This story was written for the Platinum Day of Love contest

 

“You cannot kill time without injuring eternity”, I tweeted. This was my 6^th tweet about time in the last 50 minutes. I was staring at the beach with a blank face. The waves came in search of something but returned without a trace. In a way, I am like those waves, sitting here doing nothing. I don’t like the beach or the waves. I feel irritated when I sit in the sand. But, I have no choice. I am waiting for her and she loves this particular spot in Bessie beach. “Same place, near the memorial. Bye”, her words echoed in my mind.

“What is so very special about Bessie?” I have asked her many times. “The water is the same, the sand is the same and the people are the same. Isn’t it? “She would smile innocently, roll her eyes and then nod in disagreement. “It’s a feel da”, she used to reply and giggle. Anything which is not tangible isn’t worthy according to me. But, I wouldn’t tell this and upset her.

It was close to 6.00 but the sun was not going to bow down for now. Chennai’s high temperature during its summer is not a secret but the hot air around the beach was beyond words. The heat and humidity was sapping and I was getting irritated to the core. I should be sitting in my air-conditioned cubicle in Siruseri now. Driving all the way from OMR to Besant Nagar was an arduous task in itself but sitting alone in the beach was even more annoying. Damn these IT companies, why don’t these guys follow the same holiday calendar. I have to work today and she is having a nice time with her family. Things were better when both of us were in the same office. Damn her orthodox family, I am not even supposed to call her, when she is at home.

“Oh! Sorry son. I am extremely sorry” a meek female voice disturbed me. Her voice was apologetic and only then did I realize that she had stepped on my legs. She was an elderly woman, probably in her 70s. She was wearing a red gown with a pink stockings and a brown shoe. She had short hair and curious eyes. The glossy handbag hanging on her left hand proclaimed her status. She was stout but looked weak because of her age. Her eyes were constantly looking out for something near the water. The way in which she spoke in Tamil to the kid who came running to her, made me realize that she was an Anglo-Indian.

“Did you see that son”, she asked the dark kid who came running to her.

“I did not see anything”, the boy replied and ran away without waiting for her reply. She tried to call him but the guy almost disappeared from the vicinity and joined his friends who were playing in the beach.

The old lady was murmuring something with a somber face. She must have missed something in the beach. Her sorrowful face was disheartening and I decided to help her.

“Hello Aunty. Are you looking for something?” I offered to help.

She held on to my hands and without even looking at me, she told “I think I missed it there, Can you walk me to that place?”

“Sure Aunty”. I held her hand and we started to walk.

I was holding her right arm with my left. I took small steps to help her walk comfortably. We quietly walked a couple of steps when she broke the silence.

“This place hasn’t changed much. The beach is youthful as ever, isn’t it, Son”, she said with a childlike enthusiasm. She continued without waiting for my reply, “I still remember the first time, we came to this beach. It was a full-moon day and the waves were really wild. Its wildness reminded me of his wildness on that day. He was just like this beach, sometimes wild, sometimes gentle but constantly seeking for something. Those were wonderful days”, her eyes were moist now.

I waited for her to complete. “You seem to be a resident of the city for quite some time Aunty” I replied.

“I was born here, a couple of days after our Independence.” there was a sense of pride in her voice. “He was unlucky he couldn’t enjoy the city as much as I did”, her tone changed immediately.

“You know, I first saw him near Taj Mahal. I still remember his round face, right next to the tomb. It was like a scene straight out of a romantic movie. I took my eyes off him only when my Dad called me”. She paused with a squeaky laugh. I waited for her to continue. I thought that the discussion was getting interesting. I love stories, specially the love stories of the past and this old lady seems to have one up her sleeve. Moreover, we had to walk for another 10 minutes in the old lady’s pace.

“It was just like a fairytale, son. It was a genuine coup de foudre or love at first sight as they call it here. His broad smile and hefty physique will make any one look at him again. His big eyes and the thin moustache compliment his huge build. But, I looked at him after hearing his jarring voice. He was fighting with a local seller who was trying to cheat an American. I smiled at him and he suddenly blushed. I still remember his face turning pink as he rushed away from our group.” The lady was animated and was talking without a pause. I continued to hold her hand and walked along. She was relentlessly talking about him but never stopped looking down. “I was looking for him from that moment, but never saw him in Agra again. I even had a couple of romantic dreams that night”, she blushed.

“The next day, we were at Jama Masjid and I turned around when I heard a familiar voice. It was him, smiling and chatting with the vendors. He gained some courage by then and approached our group. When he was near our group, I trembled and began to sweat. I don’t know why, but I was scared when he came near us. My heartbeats started to race when he was around. He walked up to my Dad and asked if he could help and started to explain the mosque’s history. His English was pretty good and he kept us engaged for the next 20 minutes. He gracefully denied the money which my Dad paid and winked at me, when he left. You can imagine how scared an 18 year girl would become when a man winks at her. But, I was not scared. I felt something nice and kept grinning. Ann was asking me the reason, but I couldn’t tell it out. I felt shy for no reason. “

Her voice was brimming with happiness when she spoke. I was engrossed in the story by now. “He casually asked about our hotel to Dad and came there in the evening. I was shocked to see him chatting with the Gol gappa seller outside our hotel. He was happy on seeing me and waved at me from the road. He gestured to come out of the hotel and I followed his advice like a toy operated with battery. He was waiting in the road and started to walk as soon as I neared him. I followed him like a sheep following its shepherd. I knew that I was behaving crazily but I was enjoying it. He walked to the next street and stopped. He turned back and smiled at me. I was in awe and did not smile. He had a charismatic face and his smile complimented it. He looked at my face and asked for my name. That is when I realized that we don’t even know each other’s names but were feeling as if we both were one. He spoke in length about his family and his life style. I was like a snake dancing to the tunes of the snake charmer and listened to every word of his. Suddenly, he excused himself and ran to the other side of the road, where a teenager was trying to carry a wooden gada* with much pain. He spoke something to him and came back and asked me to leave. “I will see you soon, Miss “he said and left without waiting for my response. I replied in a meek voice that I will leave Delhi tomorrow but he was on the other side of the road by then. He looked at me and winked when I looked back. I was back in the hotel and Ann was pestering me with questions again but I did not budge.

I was dejected to leave Delhi and my new love. The next few days were terrible and I realized how difficult the pain of love is. I was hoping and praying for a miracle. By then, I had started to pester my father for our next Delhi trip. He thought I was crazy and I felt he was right. Ann was the one who pulled me out of my somber mood and took me to the beach. I still remember that day like today. It was the Good Friday evening. We were lazing around after the mass and she wanted to go the beach. Father and Mother were not interested and I had no other option but to accompany my little sister. The miracle happened when we were right in front of the Schmidt Memorial, right over there”. She pointed towards the ruined memorial in the beach.  “I heard a hoarse voice telling Ann to move away. I was dumbstruck when I saw him smiling at me. Ann was perplexed by what she was seeing. She had seen him in Delhi but never got to know what happened beside the hotel. He introduced himself to Ann and said that he wanted to talk with me. Ann was mature enough and walked towards the sea when we sat near the monument. I fought with him for leaving me and running away in Delhi. He laughed loudly enough to gain attraction from the lovers who were seated beside us. He said that the teenager was the son of the person who helps him with his exercises and gets him the wooden gadas. He was going all philosophical about being grateful and so on. I was not interested in anything that he spoke but was just interested in looking at him. He kept me engaged in the conversation, though he was the only one speaking. Ann was growing restless and was looking at her watch now and then. I got the sign and asked him if we can leave. He was unhappy but said Ok and asked me to come the next day as well. I left with Ann as he walked us to the road and left us.

I told Ann that we have to come tomorrow as well. She did not have a problem with the Saturday but said that if I call her on Easter day, she would inform Father about this. “

“Ah!! Here it is. Thank you Jesus”, she exclaimed. I was confused to see the old lady happy. There was a glitter in her eyes. I looked near the beach and found nothing. She left my hand and walked towards the sea when a horse just passed near the water. She went and picked a scarf which was full of mud and water and smiled at it. “How will I miss you dear”, she spoke to the scarf. The color of the scarf was barely visible. It was full of mud and the horse had just stepped on it. She just brushed aside the sand and blew on it. She held it close to her chest and looked at it with a smile. She kissed it again and kept it near her cheeks. She was smiling continuously for the next two minutes. It was red color scarf which would easily date back a couple of decades. I waited patiently for her to complete and asked if we can leave. She nodded in agreement and continued her story.

“We went to the beach the next day and he was waiting for us. He winked at me from a distance and waved at us. His exuberance was catching up with me and I waved back. Ann was surprised to see her otherwise gloomy sister suddenly change colors. She made fun of me but I was engrossed with him and walked as quickly as possible and reached him. Ann exchanged pleasantries and walked towards the sea when we sat in the same place. I told him that I will not be able to come on Sunday. He looked at me and said that he would miss me. His exuberant face had traces of sadness and I tried to cheer him up by telling that we can meet on Monday. He looked at me and said that he had to leave to Pakistan and was not sure when he will be back. He looked into my eyes and told he will meet me in the beach on the Monday after his return. I started to cry and he was disturbed. He took the red scarf which was around his neck and asked me to wipe off the tears. He told me to be happy because he was going to help the nation. Though he looked a tad sad outside I knew that he was also happy to serve India. You must have read about the 1965 war, isn’t it son. He was part of the 3 JAT; her voice was brimming with pride when she told that. They captured Batapore town but he never returned after the war. She wiped the tears rolling down her cheek. I followed up with the Army but did not get any response. Even his friends in the regiment did not see him since Batapore. When 200 prisoners were released in 1971, I thought he will be back but he did not come. In 1999, we heard that some Indians are still in the Pakistan jail, but we could not find out anything about him. I believe he will be back some day and we will start new life.  I will be waiting for him, she told with a smile. I sincerely pray that he comes back soon. I know that he will be old and unhealthy after all these years in prison, but I know that his smile would never fade off.  I want to see that smile. I want to hear him laugh.” She was going on and on, but I froze and was not able to react after hearing her story.

We reached the road by then and I asked her if I should get her an Auto. She had her call taxi waiting and signaled the driver to come. She clasped my hand and said, “Thank you son. God bless you” and got into the car. She rolled down the window and waved good bye.

I was looking at the cab as it became smaller and smaller and finally disappeared among the plethora of vehicles. I was mesmerized by the conversation that I had with the old lady and was unaware of my phone ringing. It was my girlfriend. She was apologetic and repeated Sorry four or five times and told that she was near the beach. I asked her whereabouts and walked towards her. She was in her yellow color salwar kameez, the color that I detest the most. Her hair was all awry after driving in the maniac traffic. She looked tired from head to toe. She looked at me, smiled and continued to say Sorry. “That’s fine. No problem dear. Few minutes or hours don’t matter when I wait for a sweet-heart like you”, I replied. She stopped talking and looked deep into my eyes. There was a glitter in her eyes and they turned moist. She clutched my fingers tightly and rested her head on my shoulder. We continued to walk towards her favorite spot in the beach.

We sat in the sand and I was fondling her fingers. I suddenly realized that I haven’t written anything for the Platinum Day of Love contest. Never mind I told myself, I have learnt a bigger lesson today and would send this for the contest. If I win, I will gift the platinum jewelry to the old lady whose love started 48 years ago and will never end.

 

*Wooden Gada – Exercise equipment. Karla Kattai / Clubs

This story was written for the Platinum Day of Love contest