As the house of Trishala’s late paternal grandparents was filled with the laughter and activity of the wedding, Ashok’s work hot-line buzzed urgently on his HTC. Unfortunately, he had to drive down to Bangalore immediately to handle urgent matters. Trishala was crestfallen – it was a day before the wedding and this happened! Ashok tenderly re-assured her that he would be back in time for the ceremony. He left a slightly disappointed Trishala as he drove down the rocky NH (National Highway) to Bangalore.
(Part – II)
The clock struck Xll. The whole house was filled with
tension. There was no news of Ashok so far. His office said he had left more
than three hours ago and his phone was un-reachable. Trishala was beside
herself with apprehension. She did not know whether to un-cork her own bottle
of emotions or console Mi – Ashok’s mother. It was at that very minute when her
Blackberry began to ring. Trishala ran to pick up the phone.
“Hello?!” her voice
trembled as she spoke into the Blackberry.
“Hello! There has been an accident on the Wallajah Road and
this phone has been found on the spot of accident. I noticed a lot of missed
calls from this number so I called to inform you that they said they were
taking the body to Apollo Hospitals on Avinashi Road.” - Said an unknown
person.
“Body?!” Trishala
shrieked!
Tears fell thick and fast from her dark-brown eyes. Ashok’s
mother fainted in the background. Trishala swiftly strode across the living
room… mute… not answering the millions of questions hurled at her. In a trice
she changed out of her yellow with red and gold bordered kanjeevaram silk sari
into a pale-blue kurta with a white churidhar. She grabbed the keys of the blue
Astar that were on the mantelpiece and announced to the room filled with her
current and future relatives:
“I’m going to the Apollo Hospitals. He’s there!”
A clatter of chairs and a jingle of keys followed. Trishala
drove Mi, Daddy and both her parents to the hospital as fast as she could.
Outside, the skies were pouring down as the Blue Astar tore down the wet roads.
The rain lashed fiercely against the windshield of the vehicle, making things
more difficult for her. 15 minutes later Trishala was running down the OP ward
towards the Intensive Care Unit ward at the hospital – Ashok had been rushed to
the ICU for having collided head-on with a speeding lorry trailer, whose breaks
had failed. Suffering from the cracking of his cerebral cavity, Ashok was
fighting to take his last breaths.
(Part – III)
Looking through the Fibred glass-door of the ICU, Trishala
watched on helplessly as Ashok struggled to take his basic breaths despite
being connected to a life-supporting system. The ground beneath her feet had
vanished. Trishala collapsed on the floor crying! She felt herself go weak;
physically, mentally, emotionally and soulfully. She wanted to join Ashok in
his journey beyond… yet she had to stay back. She had to stay back an take care
of both her families – her own parents and now, his. She clutched her stomach
and cried as she thought of the new life that thrived in her womb. A month and
a half earlier, Trishala had given Ashok “the best birthday gift ever!” – Her
pregnancy news.
She cried silently, her whole body trembling as she realized
that the life they had once planned together… all their dreams… would never be!
And then it happened… suddenly and ever-impactful : the
glass doors swished open as the doctors brought out on a stretcher the
blue-black bruised body of Ashok’s covered beneath a white sheet. Trishala just
looked at the stretcher, devoid of any emotion, as every other person in the
waiting room cried on. She looked and looked; for it was the last time she was
going to be seeing him in flesh and blood.
(Part – IV)
A week flew by, each day a struggle by itself. Trishala’s
life without Ashok was mere existence. Having taken over as the sole
bead-winner of both the families, Trishala began shuttling between Permabur and
Kilpauk more often. Ever since Mi and Daddy had lost their only son - their
Ashok, life had more or less come to a standstill for them. But they weren’t
alone, Trishala too was grieving equally… or even more.
Her days seemed longer than they actually were and her
nights colder. She huddled up in her bed, her tears dampening her pillows. She
cried like a two-year old: hoarsely and uncontrollably. Most of the times, she
cried herself to seep… the rest of the time she was just sleep-deprived.
The many memories of the time she spent with Ashok since
childhood were crystal clear every time she closed her eyes. She regretted the
time she wasted not telling him how (and how much) she felt about him; she
regretted fighting with him. But most of all, she regretted not having the
power to alter fate – to relieve him of that pain. She regretted the moment most
when she mutely watched through the hospital door… seeing him struggle with
pain… as she watched on powerlessly, unable to do anything!
(Part – V)
The 13th day ceremony after Ashok’s death was held at his
parent’s house in Periyar Nagar, Perambur. Everyone attended it. From his
school teacher to his colleagues – everyone! Trishala watched on as the
ceremonial fire’s flames reflected on the garlanded 6x6 photograph of Ashok.
She reconciled with the fact that this was probably the only view she would be
getting of him from now onwards. After the ceremony, she called her family –
both her and his parents to the living room for a small talk. She took a deep
breath before she said –
“I have something to tell you. There’s a part of Ashok
that’s growing within me… inside my womb” her eyes glistened as she looked at
the shocked faces before her.
“It happened after the engagement” she addressed their worst
fears.
She paused, waiting for the reaction to follow… and she was
prepared to face it. She knew now the reason for her existence – her baby and
her family.
Then… after 3minutes of prolonged silence, Trishala’s father
spoke –
“I think now it would be prudent if all of us stayed
together”
And then, that was their life – a duplex apartment with both
the parents, Trishala and the baby.
(Part – VI)
12 years passed by and Trishala’s life was very different
from what she had envisaged when she was 18. She studied, worked, earned and
took care of both the families. Even though she was legally unmarried, she
lived the life of a widow. She followed all the customs and traditions
dutifully, in order for Ashok’s soul to rest peacefully. There were times on
such days that she had the notion that he was looking down on her… protecting
her. And she was ever-grateful to god for that. So long… life was a smooth
sail.
After completing her MBA in International Relations through
correspondence, she now worked as the Chief International Relations Executive
at Vodafone, Chennai. Work time was the only part of the day when Ashok’s memories
did not haunt her. Every minute of her life seemed connected to some moment in
the past that she shared with him. When the burden of her past was too much to
handle, she would drive down to the beach and face the rippling waters, letting
her ripples flow freely… uninterrupted. She had no choice but to come here and
let herself free. She couldn’t cry in front of both her parents, her own and Mi
& Daddy… and most importantly she couldn’t cry in front of her ‘reason of
living’… her son… her Krishna.
(Part – VII)
Krishna, all of 11 years, was the apple of both his
grandparents’ eye! Naughty, talkative, humorous and hyper-active; the house was
full of life whenever he was around. A thoroughly spoilt brat, he got
everything that his mother denied him just from pouting before one of his four
grandparents. Though he was an exceptionally bright student at school &
academics, he also excelled in cricket; like his father. Trishala and Mi used
to marvel at the similarities between Krishna and Ashok. Trishala felt that Mi
saw her Ashok in Krishna, and was pulling along for that sake alone… to watch
him grow.
Just like any other son, Krishna was very attached to
Trishala. If Trishala was upset about something Krishna used to play
hide-and-seek with her around the house just to cheer her up. It was during
those times that Trishala remembered how Ashok used to tickle her when she was
upset… to make her laugh. Krishna also knew about his father, Ashok, and his
untimely death. But that was the only thing he knew about him. Trishala felt it
wasn’t time to tell Krishna everything about his father and her…
One day when Trishala was cooking dinner in the kitchen, she
heard their land-line ring.
“Krishna… Answer the phone Kanna! Mummy’s a little busy at
the moment.” she called out.
“Hello?!” Krishna’s melodious voice sang into the receiver.
A twinkling, pixie-like voice sang from the other end of the
telephone line –
“Krishna… Deepika here! We have some project tomorrow in
class. Miss asked me to suggest someone for being leader. I didn’t want to be
leader and get scoldings so I gave your name ok?! Hahahahahahahaha” - she
giggled.
Krishna’s face scowled with irritation. He paused. And with
all his irritation, retorted into the receiver –
“Podi Country fool !”
Trishala stopped stirring the curry in the kadai and felt
the tears fall thick and fast, once again…
This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal andHarperCollins India.
