Chapter 10

Arvind Uncle’s kidneys were in poor shape and on the verge of failure. With every passing day and his old age, there was no possibility of getting a transplant. He was on dialysis once in a week. Slowly, this frequency would increase, from once to twice in a week and then on a daily basis. He had already had two heart attacks and doctors said he had a maximum of eight or nine months to live. He popped a dozen medicines, daily. Sooner or later, these medicines would become ineffective.

It was 8 p.m. and I ate dinner in isolation.

Sometimes, one creates a dynamic impression by saying something and sometimes by remaining silent. Anisha attempted some conversation but I avoided engaging with her. She might have guessed the reason for my not wanting to speak. She didn’t try again.

I shut my room door and locked it from inside. My roommate had already left. He was from Rishikesh. Once inside, I felt I was small. Here was a person welcoming his death with a smile. I had many unanswered queries and many unaddressed feelings. I also had my anti-depression pill, Duloxetine. I went to sleep to avoid any unnecessary thoughts.

It was a tough night. My depressive state of mind was taking its toll. If you’ve clinical depression, you may have trouble getting to sleep  or staying asleep. There is a definite link between lack of  sleep  and  depression. The deeper I think, the deeper I sink.

Arvind Uncle will die soon. Will he meet my Bhavna? An image flashed, which seemed to want to say many things to me.

Is there life after death? The same question popped in my mind, and this time, I knew a person who was going to enter her world. I always carry a pen with me. I searched for a piece of paper. I couldn’t find one. It was 11 p.m. I stepped out of my room and the resort was still lively. I asked the caretaker for an A4-sized sheet of paper.

I started writing a letter. Perhaps it was due to the depression, but I wrote it. I wrote an emotional letter to Bhavna. You may find it weird. It was a letter from a man battling depression, to his late wife.

Hello Mrs. Pandey,

It is all so weird. I never thought that I would write to you like this. But this is the beauty of life. It never goes as planned. Recently, I met a wise man who said, if you keep on thinking about the soul, then the soul will keep thinking about you. If I keep on missing you, you are going to miss me too.

I am learning new things, and most important of them all, I’m learning about the different aspects of life. To sum up, I am happy. And so should you be. I don’t know, dear, if there is life after death, or not. But one day, we will meet, for sure. How and where? I don’t know. In which form this meeting will happen, I don’t know. I don’t want you to be sitting and waiting for this to happen. Till then, I will choose the path of forgiveness and love, and choose the path of life.

Love you, and you are the best wife.

Yours,

Pandeyji

Needless to mention, my eyes filled up. I am fed-up of mentioning how many times and how many tears I have shed. I folded the paper into a comfortable size, precisely half of a postcard size. I had an envelope with me in which I used to carry my cards. I emptied it. I put the letter in the envelope. I went to the washroom and splashed plenty of water on my face. Wiping it, I looked into the mirror. Till then, I had mastered the art of hiding my tears. I looked into the mirror thrice, and tried a smile. Yes, a fake smile. I went out of my room again.

I walked towards Arvind Uncle’s room. As I walked, I was uneasy. He did not know anything about my past. He would definitely want to know why I was giving this to him. I might require to explain myself him. I did not want to shed tears in his presence. I did not have the courage to share my feelings again. Before I could even knock on his door, a smiling face flashed in my mind. A smiling man, who had lost everything and was about to die. I decided I could not face him. I walked towards my friend’s room. It was weird. But I had an excuse, that of depression.

A light tap on the door at 11.30 p.m. was not enough to rupture Anisha’s sleep. She opened the door after the sixth knock. She wore a childish night suit with dancing bunnies printed on it. Her drowsy face, half-opened eyes and tangled hair said that I had disturbed a deep sleep.

‘Ajay. . . ? All well. . . ?’ her voice was grumpy, yet concerned.

‘Can I have a few minutes?’

‘At this time?’ She frowned. But she was attentive now.

A female voice came from inside. ‘Please, close the door, Anisha.’ That was Anisha’s roommate. There was a message in the tone of voice. ‘Go to hell, but please do not disturb my sleep.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Anisha whispered.

She closed the door. A while later, she came out. She had put on her smart track suit. That was the beauty of a true friend. No matter how much you disturbed them, they will stand by you when you need them.

As we walked down the corridor, we noticed that everything was silent. We stepped outside the resort building, and strolled out of the gate on to the quiet street.

‘What is the matter, Ajay?’

‘I need a small favour.’

‘Yes.’

I handed the envelope to her. She looked at it with hesitation. It was an absurd moment. A beautiful girl was being offered a handwritten letter on a chilly evening in dreamlike Rudraprayag. It could create confusion in any mind. But I was far removed from those mundane thoughts.

‘What is in this?’

Had she thought it was a love letter to her? At this age and that moment, I am sure she had not.

‘I want to give this to Arvind Uncle. I wrote it for. . .’ I paused.

‘Bhavna?’ My hesitation confirmed it for her.

I nodded.

She turned and stood facing me. She looked at me as if she was seeing an alien. Shocked beyond words now, she was fully awake. ‘This is a letter you have written to your wife, and you want Arvind to deliver it to her in heaven?’

I nodded again.

Her jaw dropped. The air around us felt heavy and breathing seemed difficult. She wanted to say something, but no one had prepared words for a situation like this one. Who could even write a letter like this? It’s the things that you least expect, that hit you the hardest.

‘I know this is not normal. I need your help. I can’t face him.’

‘You really want me to give this to Arvind Uncle?’

‘If I give it to him, then I need to explain everything, again.’

‘Hmmm.’ When they have nothing to say, girls use this specially created word. ‘That I will do. But are you really. . .serious?’ She still could not believe what I was expecting her to do.

‘If there is life after death, then surely he will meet her,’ I shrugged.

‘Suppose Arvind does get a chance to meet Bhavna, how will you get to know of it?’

‘It’s a feeling. Nothing more than that.’

I could see that she wanted to say many things. My dismal face and the letter in her hand stopped her from asking anything more. We walked for about a mile, then turned back towards the resort. She was silent. The sound of the beautiful river flowing freely, was the only thing we could hear at that late hour.

‘Can I ask you something about Bhavna?’ People always take my permission to ask something about her.

‘Yes, please.’

‘Can you share a beautiful and happy incident that you had with her?’

‘There are many. Which kind would you like to listen to?’ I had a strange enthusiasm in answering this question of hers.

‘Anything that you are happy to share.’

I did not realize that there was a smile on my face as I began to speak, ‘Once, I was to perform mimicry on-stage. I was nervous, since that was my first live solo show in front of five hundred people. She believed strongly in horoscope and numerology. I am not at all superstitious, and I hated her belief in such topics. Just before the show, she told me that the day was not a good day for Cancer. The zodiac. I hated that she told me this. However, I took it as a challenge. I gave my best shot and performed. I won many hearts. Later, she revealed that she had lied. She had said so to push me to perform my best. Motivate me to fight my fears.’

‘She seems to have been an inspiring woman,’ said Anisha, in amazement.

‘Indeed, she is.’

I used ‘is’, not was. I am sure you can understand my feelings.

‘Did you notice the change in you when you spoke of her?’

‘What change?’ I looked at her confused.

‘You came to me at 11:30 at night. You were burdened with negativity and gloom. I could not see any life in you. You even splashed water on your face, to hide the tears. . .’

‘So?’

‘Maybe you have not noticed. But the moment you started talking about the happy moments with her, you became happy.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I do not know what you have written in this letter. . .’ She waved the envelope in my face. ‘. . .but the memories which are taking you away from your present happiness, get away from them. Carry happy ones with you. Don’t live in the past with the bad moments. You may never know the value of a moment before it becomes a memory.’

This was new. I had been to a couple of doctors and they had explained my condition and asked me to do many things which were impossible to implement. Here was a girl who said something which touched the dark corners that no counsellor had reached so far.

I decided to change the subject. Else the bad philosopher in her would continue to bestow unwanted gyaan on me.

‘You are right. Let’s talk about something else.’

‘Let’s make a beautiful memory now,’ her voice had a bounce in it.

‘Now?’ mine reflected confusion.

‘Look around you, aren’t you realizing something? You are walking here on a full moon night. Where would you find such a pleasant chill, a beautiful river, a breathtaking view, a comfortable walk, with a friend who is so beautiful?’ her soft lips devoid of gloss, shone in a smile.

‘Why have you added the word “beautiful”? A friend is a friend.’

‘But a beautiful friend is beautiful,’ she was making no sense. Perhaps the full moon had affected her brains.

I smiled, then giggled and then laughed.

She mock cried out, ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘What?’ The sad person inside me had disappeared for a few minutes.

‘Nothing,’ she pouted.

‘Come on, stop being upset. You are the one who wants me to be happy.’

‘Could you please tell me what is there to laugh about? Am I not beautiful?’

‘No. I laughed because all beautiful girls are dumb.’