It was
almost a similar afternoon, undue rain had made me unnecessarily lazy. Our
paying guest house had seven boarders. Sushila-di, a central school teacher was busy marking the half-yearly
answer sheets that had to be shared before the school closes for puja vacation.
My roommate had gone out for a movie with her boy-friend. The room next had a
new boarder Ritu.
Those days
I worked for an engineering consultancy organization, a perfect 9 to 6 affair
for five days. My wallet was lean and
leisure was unbound. In the patterned
life of a bunch of Bengalis, Ritu from Bangalore was a fresh air. That was her
first week end. I must be reading some
cine magazine (borrowed from Kakima –
owner of the guest house), when she popped in –
-
“I would be out, do let Aunty know if she asks. Hope to join you all for dinner.” - She informed politely. Her moves were so
well managed that it left no chance to enquire more. For a while I was left curious to think of all
possible places that she may go. Young mind can think between the lines the
most optimistic way.
Our rooms
where located in the ground floor. One end was a small verandah and the other
end was the general entrance door which was generally latched. The semi dark
romantic sky had promises unseen. Through
the painted grills of the verandah moist air gushed in and out. Careless breeze
left behind a few nimble drops of water, which hung from the curved edges of the
grill. The black and white glam world created a rhythm of its own. The perfect moment of silence broke on the
press of the doorbell at the other end –
-
“Courier…”
I stepped
forward. A middle aged courier man, in a wet rain coat stood behind the collapsible
gate. In an hurried tone he proclaimed – “Ritu Sahani..” . It was a simple ask,
however he sounded like a teacher calling upon rolls. I volunteered - “Am her roommate,
can I?”.
My first
one year of engineering consultancy was mostly about practicing autograph on sanctioned
engineering drawings. With all enthusiasm I put in my signature and accepted
the colorful floral pack on behalf of our new boarder. Kept the gift on her
well laid out bed. On one side of the
wrapper there were two bold hand written blocks qualified as To and From. Inquisitive eyes read – Deepak Singh……Bangalore, in one of
them.
Patchy
rain fall continued with night setting in prematurely. With the fall of night most
in-mates returned and we hurdled in our room for a while to get a first preview
of cine matinée that my roommate enjoyed. We assembled over dinner table. Ritu was only
missing. Superhit Muqabla, popular TV
prime time event was on. We were on parallel gossips when the doorbell buzzed.
It was me
once more. I stepped down to open the gate and Ritu stepped in with all
composure but her face was dull. With exuberance I said – “You have a gift from
Bangalore, I received it.” Her eyes lit up and she rushed towards the room. I sensed her need for privacy and stood back by
the grill. The thin stream of rain was falling on the street light casing and
the feeble neon lights refracted for pulse of a second. The beauty of night had
different gifts for each one of us under the same roof.
I was
about to make a move that felt Ritu had put her hand on my shoulder to say – “Thank
you”.
We
exchanged silent glances. I didn’t ask, but she continued.
-
“Need to share a few things with you. I was
about to be married to Rajiv. He is no more. Today went to meet his mother; she
stays all by her own in this city.” Empathy engulfed. She continued with enough
strength – “Deepak and Rajiv shared apartment in Bangalore. They were best
buddies.” She took a long breath to say – “Tomorrow is my birthday. Crazy
Deepak had sent few CDs that we enjoyed listening together.”
It was a
long story cut crisp and short. All my curiosity and follow up guesses fizzled
in the humid breeze blowing. It took me sometime to gather my thoughts and wish
her on the eve of her birthday. She was a sport to have accepted that and
requested me to confide the facts revealed. Her fresh start needed a new home
and no sympathy. With all assurance I
joined her towards the room.
The crushed colorful wrapper was peeping out of the
overflowing room bin-box. Three CDs lied on the neatly ironed bed sheet. I
picked up the first one flipped to check the numbers. “Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar, Dil Abhi Bhara Nahi”… Once more read between the
lines, sorry between the choice of CDs and its songs…Prime time on idiot box
was over, heard roll of laughter and varied sounds of footsteps approaching proximity.
Left Ritu to settle with her ordeal and deal ahead.