Then today in the afternoon over lunch he asked me over to his cabin for a drink. Although not in the mood of mingling with anybody, I couldn’t say no to the drink.
An hour later, I knocked on his door gently and decided that I would just have one drink, and leave early without talking much.
He opened the door and had a pleasant smile on his face as he welcomed me in his cabin. I could see his brown eyes twinkle behind his glasses. He led me toward the couch and we settled on it sitting across each other.
‘So Ronit, how’s your stay turning out to be?’ he asked casually, settling back in his seat.
‘So far, so good sir,’ I replied. OK, where’s the drink?
He nodded and stared intensely at me through his stony eyes from above the rim of his glasses. I cringed in my seat and avoided his gaze by looking around.
‘Oh, what’s that?’ I tried distracting him, pointing toward an old worn out diary on the table.
He picked the diary and ran his fingers poignantly through it. ‘That’s my personal diary,’ he replied wistfully.
‘It looks pretty old,’ I said quickly. It was in tatters, worn out from the edges, and had to be a dozen years old at least. ‘Why can’t you get a new one, we have plenty of them in the store.’
‘Oh no,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t want a new one.’
I nodded.
‘Oh sorry, I almost forgot,’ he said, keeping his diary aside. ‘What will you have, beer or whiskey?’
‘Whiskey, sir.’ Yes, I needed that.
‘Right away.’
He rose to his feet and started for his living room lifting the two glasses from the table. I planned to leave after the first drink feigning a headache or something.
‘Soda or water?’ I heard his loud voice from inside his living room.
‘Soda sir,’ I called out, straightening up on my seat.
He returned a minute later with two glasses filled with golden liquid. We clank our glasses and drank in silence when he surprised me with his abrupt question.
‘So Ronit, what is bothering you?’ he asked, lowering his head.
I don’t like anyone probing in my life, especially a stranger. How much do I know him anyway? ‘Nothing sir,’ I replied, shrugging.
‘Look son,’ he continued, leaning forward and placing his glass on the table, ‘my hair didn’t become gray in the sun. I’ve been a Captain for more than twenty years, seen the entire world, worked with a lot of nationalities. I know exactly when something is wrong with someone.’
‘I understand sir, but really nothing is wrong,’ I pressed.
‘Alright,’ he said.
He picked up his glass, took a sip, and settled back in his seat.
‘You know,’ he continued slowly. ‘I lost my wife when I was somewhat your age, I mean in a divorce,’ he clarified instantly. ‘But even today when I feel depressed about it, I talk it out. It makes me feel better.’
I smiled weakly. ‘Actually even…um…my wife and I plan to get a divorce this time.’
‘Oh,’ he sighed, ‘I am sorry to hear that.’
‘No,’ I dismissed, ‘it’s alright. I want to be done away with it anyway.’
‘So, what was it, arranged marriage?’
‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘Actually love marriage.’
‘Oh…and how long have you guys been…married?’
‘I’ve known her for the past seven years, but um…’ I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. ‘…we’ve been married for just four months.’
‘Really!’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And you guys plan to get a…divorce. Don’t you think these are still early days in your marriage?’
‘Yeah, I know...’ I looked down at the floor before facing him. ‘I know sir but…I think that’s the best for both of us. She is a bitch really, can’t stay with her anymore.’
‘Ha, ha!’ he laughed. ‘That’s what I used to think of my wife before the divorce.’
I looked up to face him. ‘Really, so why did you guys get a divorce?’
‘Ah,’ he shrugged, ‘that was a long time ago. You won’t be interested, it’s a long story.’
‘You can tell me sir; maybe I can learn something from it.’ I found myself opening to him now.
‘If you really want to learn from my mistakes, all I can advise you is never, ever turn your back on love.’ He removed his glasses and leaned forward. ‘Never do that, never. Have faith in the person you love and always be patient. Love has to be patient after all.’
I smiled. ‘So what’s your story, sir?’ His words piqued my curiosity.
‘You really want to know my story?’ he asked squeezing the bridge of his nose.
I offered a nod.
‘You know,’ his voice was a whisper. ‘It’ll make you smile initially, but later, you’ll cry.’
‘Okay sir, go for it then, I’m all ears.’ I was really drawn forward to this conversation and didn’t realize was almost at the edge of my seat.
‘Wait a minute!’ He threw his hands at me. ‘You haven’t told me anything about your story…’
‘Okay.’
For the next fifteen minutes I told him everything about Aisha: the day we first met at our graduation day, my first date with her, our first kiss, about her brother, and the way I convinced everyone for the marriage. We found our self laughing when I completed my story.
‘You guys,’ he stroked his finger at me affectionately. ‘That sounds like a funny story to me, where’s the tragic part?’
‘Oh,’ I sighed, ‘it’s gonna come sir, it’s gonna come. Let the marriage begin and you’ll know.’
He caught my gaze and smiled. When he asked me for the second drink, I didn’t refuse. Surprising myself I felt comfortable in his presence now. When he returned, I looked at him intensely. It was his cue to begin. He placed his glass on the table and settled back in his seat.
‘Um…..let’s see, so where do I begin?’
13. Captain’s story - 1
September 1969, Nagpur
I was eight years old when I first met Shikha. I still remember that day correctly. It was raining heavily and Baba had come early that day. He was accompanied by his old friend Mahesh and his daughter, Shikha. Baba was meeting him after five years and both the friends were very excited. Shikha was wearing a white frock with some floral carvings on it and a red border. Her hair was tied neatly in two pony tails on either side and little strands of hair lined her forehead. Her eyes were big and wide, flushed with innocence, and a shade of fear. A year younger to me, she was all of seven then. I took her in my room, gave her some of my clothes, and together we played for hours.
My mother had died on my birth but Baba never felt the need to get married again. He’d toil hard, had unrelenting spirit, and made sure I wasn’t denied of any worldly pleasures. My Baba was both my father and mother. His life revolved around me and my proper upbringing was his sole aim. We didn’t have any other relatives, but with so much love and support I never felt the need. We were poor but had a decent roof over our head and everything else in between.
Mahesh uncle’s wife had also died three years ago, battling cancer, so one day Baba asked him to move in with us.
‘We won’t have to pay rent for two separate flats so why don’ we live together, we’ll have good company and the kids would get someone to play with.’
Mahesh uncle refused initially but with Baba’s constant importuning, he finally gave in. I was very happy as I was getting a permanent friend in the house.
In the mornings both friends after serving us breakfast and dropping us to the nearby government school went to their respective offices and returned late in the evening. Since I was the elder one I was told to take care of Shikha. In the afternoon we’d saunter back to our flat, school bags slung over our shoulders, and held each other’s tiny hands. Baba would give us some money and on the way back we daily ate ice cream. Shikha was very fond of them; I’d just give her company. After the ice cream we’d hop and sk
ip and jump our way back to our house. It was time for the toys.
Over dinner both Baba and Mahesh uncle had long conversations about politics, current affairs, business, and other times about their own lives. They enjoyed each other’s company just like me and Shikha. They often laughed over the fact that they were happy as they didn’t have a wife to pester them.
‘No woman, no trouble.’ Mahesh uncle would remark facetiously.
Baba would only smile back. But I was sure he never smiled from within. If he did, he would never slide the drawer open in his cupboard every night to look woefully at my mother’s picture through teary eyes running his fingers on her face before he went to sleep. I loved Baba for that, he never got married again. I learnt the lesson of true and everlasting love from him.
Baba always emphasized the power of knowledge and education. He exhorted me to study hard and become wise; to get a good, respectable job, and earn enough money. He never wanted me to become a labourer like him. I promised I would make him proud some day.
Life went on. We had a good time those days – oodles of laughter of playing and running under the sun, having long juvenile chats, singing old Hindi songs, and the ilk. Soon, Shikha and I became best friends. We’d fight regularly though, but seldom, they lasted for more than a few hours. We’d become so used to each other’s company that being angry with each other was so unnatural, as if that emotion never existed. With her around I never felt the need of any other friend. In fact, we never even had any other friends. Not by chance, but I guess, by choice.
Few months later, one day over breakfast as they were talking about business something hit them. They were both working as labourers in a textile mill and thought of starting their own venture. They knew they had the brains, right attitude, and both were hard working and driven. Moreover after working in the same industry they had a fair amount of an idea of how it worked.
Over the next few days, they did their research while working in their respective companies. They would toil late into the night analyzing and organizing their thoughts. They had very little savings which they would have to put at risk if they were to start a business. That got them thinking. Eventually they decided in favour of it and one day I saw Baba transferring his clothes from the cupboard to an empty suitcase.
‘Are you going somewhere Baba?’ I asked him hurriedly. I was playing with Shikha outside and came in to grab a bottle of water as she was thirsty.
Baba smiled and stopped packing. He beckoned me toward him and I sat in his laps.
‘Yes, we are going to Bombay for a few days to meet some people.’
I flinched. ‘But Baba, why? How will I live without you?’ I felt the warmth of tears on my face. I’d never been away from him.
Baba gave me a reassuring smile. ‘It’s only a few days, it’s not like we are going forever, and then when we’ll be back we’ll start our own business. We’ll have more money, a better house, and I’ll send you and Shikha to a better school. We’ll have a much better life Shekhar.’
I nodded meekly. ‘But why can’t we come with you if it’s only for a few days.’
‘No,’ he said quickly, ‘I don’t want to you to be missing your studies.’
I made a face. ‘But Baba why do you want to do business, we have a decent life,’ I asked, my mind wandering outside. Shikha would be waiting for me, she was thirsty.
‘Oh Shekhar, you are too young to understand this. Now go and call Shikha, Mahesh wants to speak to her.’
I heard Shikha’s wails in the next room, the moment she tottered inside excitedly. She thought she’d be getting a chocolate.
‘Okay Baba, but please be back soon, we don’t know anybody else here.’ I begged him when I returned back in my room. Baba was done with his packing and was holding his suitcase in his hands. He gave me a reassuring wink.
An hour later both were at the door with their bags giving us their final assurances and advise. Just before leaving, Mahesh uncle bent down on his knees and held my shoulders firmly looking me in my eyes.
‘You are a brave boy Shekhar, promise me you’ll take good care of my daughter and never let her cry.’
‘Of course, Mahesh uncle, I’ll take care of her.’ I gave him my word.
He kissed me and Shikha on our forehead and then they were gone. Shikha hugged me tight and tears trickled down her eyes. Suddenly I was the only one she had, at least for the next few days. I wiped my tears first and then Shikha’s. Slowly we made our way back in the empty house. We hoped they returned soon.
They never returned. Two weeks later we got the news that their bus met with an accident killing all the passengers and they never even reached Bombay. The owner of our house threw us out as we didn’t have any money to pay rent.
With a heavy heart and tears in our eyes we stood alone and dejected on the road, the thought killing us that we had nowhere to go in this big, insolent world.
14. Captain’s story - 2
June 1970, Nagpur
It had been more than a month we’d been living on the footpath, without shelter and without much of food. Every morning I would trudge helplessly in the city in the hope of finding some work which would get me money to buy some food. Sometimes I got work - selling newspapers, cleaning garbage on roads, cleaning toilets – and sometimes I didn’t. When I did, I would excitedly scarper down the street or wherever I was working at the end of the day toward Shikha, feed her with whatever little I could but made sure got her the dessert – her ice cream. Her face would brighten up with its sight, and for once, I could make her smile. That was enough to keep me motivated and to run for work the next day.
During those days quite often we cried, commemorating our happier moments. Life obviously had been unfair to us. We lost our mother at a very early stage in our life and just when we were finally settled and content, God took our fathers too. Daily we’d wipe each other’s tears and together shared the piercing thought of our loneliness.
The dark and lonely footpath had become our home. We would lie cuddled together under the dark sky, staring into its expanse in fear, in agony, and in hope that someday our lives would be better. Sometimes we got sleep and other times it was a long and patient wait for the sun to cast its first rays of sunshine. If at all we did get sleep, we hated waking up to the realization what our lives had become.
Then one day while strolling past the roads dejectedly in search of some work, I heard a loud clatter of children toward my right. I walked in the direction of the noise and observed a pale red coloured dilapidated building in the middle of a small playground where well over a hundred children were playing. I looked above at the board on the rusty metallic gate. It read: ‘Bal Vidya Anathalaya’. My eyes widened in delight and it was my first happiest moment in a long time.
That was to become our home for the next decade.
I sprinted back toward Shikha, packed whatever little belongings we had and, entered the orphanage. The children were still playing and some of them glanced at us gleefully. We were led in the small office by the gardener who saw us trudging aimlessly around the campus.
The office was on the ground floor of the building. It looked nothing like an office save the files clustered and dust-ridden on the shelves. The woman in the office appeared to be in her fifties. She was short and plump and had an air of gaiety around her. Children here call me Alka Mam, she said in a dimpled smile after asking our names. In my ten years of stay at the orphanage rarely did that smile desert her exuberant face. Later, I would realize she lost both her sons, and to fill the gaping hole in her heart, she surrounded herself with kids.
She filled out a few forms for us, asked us a few questions, and then cried with us hearing about our fathers. She encouraged us by telling similar stories about the other children in the orphanage. For once it felt good to know that there were children like us in the world who have felt similar pain and misery. She welcomed us to the orphanage and then asked Mohandas – the gardener - to show us around the little campus
.
Mohandas was an agile man somewhere in his early sixties. However he had the memory of a fish. Twice we had to remind him who we were and why were we here. At his delirium, Shikha couldn’t control her fit of giggles. It felt good to see her laughing; that smile had eluded her face for over a month.
He showed us two big rooms that were adjacent to each other: separate accommodation for boys and girls. Each room had over fifty triple bunk beds. They were not very clean, but after living on the streets for a month, we weren’t too fastidious ourselves. There was a small cleaning area, a dining hall, and four small class rooms. In summary, it was the perfect home. God had been kind to us. My faith in him reaffirmed that day.
He told us there were eighty five children here in all - orphans like us, who had seen the worst life had to offer very early in their lives. They lived, played, and studied here. This was their home and it was good to see an air of affability around the campus.
We had a very methodical schedule in the orphanage. At sharp six an alarm rang beckoning us for the morning prayers, seven was our breakfast time, and then it was study time from eight until one. That was my favourite time of the day. Of course, I had never forgotten the promise I’d made to Baba.
After studies, we had our second prayer at one followed by lunch. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent in the playground indulging in physical activities. We had dinner at seven followed by the last prayer of the day. At sharp eight another alarm rang compelling us to go to bed. And then, lights of the campus would go down.
During our initial days Shikha and I spent most of our time together. We had our meals together, sat next to each other in the class, and played with each other in the evenings. But as the days progressed, we became friends with almost everyone in the orphanage. We were like a huge family living, playing and celebrating life together. Soon the haunting memories of our fathers and loneliness deserted us and, yet again, we were gifted a new life.
Love Lasts Forever Page 6