THE DAILY DESIDERATUM
On a lazy Sunday afternoon , I got off the bus and walked up to a small cottage with peeling paint and faded curtains . A voice behind me asked “ Are you looking for somebody “?.........
I flinched at the voice that broke the stillness of the environs . I turned around nervously and was shocked to see her “Grandma , what are you doing here ? And that too on a Sunday?” . Grandma has always been a home bound person, specially so after grandpa’s demise and never ventured out to meet people . “Well , That is a story . But what would bring you here ?” . She asked . her wrinkles twitching a bit surprisedly . “That is also a story . But you have to tell me yours first “. Her then pleasent face became pale for a second . Clutching the walking stick with both hands , she moved towards a worn out bench at the side and beckoned to me . I sat next to her , all ears to take in everything that she has got to say . But all I saw was her eyes fixed on the distant vastness . So it was easy to interpret what it was about . I took the initiative . “ So, who was he ? “ . Grandma gave a sly smile . Yes . So that was it . That was indeed an admissible grin . I convinced myself . “He was my penfriend . And he died yesterday...around this time” . I stared at her , quite confused at seeing her emotionless face that still didn’t break the focus.”I know why you stare at me that way . I have been an invisible friend to him for 30 years “. I let out a loud gasp . ”30 years ? Grandma that’s a long time . All these while you had been texting a foreigner without our knowledge ? “ . “Writing..technically..not texting”. She said .”And I don’t think marriage is any means to stop yourselves from making friends”. I stayed silent for a while , hoping to come up with something sensible . “So , how did you guys become friends ? Because, he’s a foreigner and you too are a foreigner to him “ .
“Well , I wrote to my nephew Charlie once , while he was vacationing in India , to know how the place was like and everything . But the address went wrong and accidentally was dropped in his room. He could have delivered it rightly but , as he said something or the other about it forced him to open the letter “. “But he can’t do that . He should have done the fair thing of giving it to Charlie. Why did he open your letter . You trusted and wrote to a man like him ? who intentionally meddle up in other’s business ?” . I shouted at her , forgetting for a second that she was my grandma . “I am sorry , but I can’t believe all these “ . I told her , careful not to look into her eyes . “That’s what I thought first . But he was kind of superstitious . He told that the letter was destined to reach him and that’s why he opened it . And he told this on the return letter “ . “ So did he gave it back to Charlie then ? “ . I asked even when I was sure that he didn’t . “No . In my letter I asked Charlie about how India was like . How it was socially and culturally . I never asked about his wellbeing or exchanged any pleasentries with him in my letter. The whole letter revealed a curious and thirsty mind . So he thought he would write back all that he knows . Had I mentioned anything personal...” she paused for a while and told “ he wouldn’t have written back ....” . Must say he wrote a an outstanding description about the place . A fascinating paradise with rich heritage and even richer culture . Enchanting enough to make one flee to the place in an instant .” For what seemed like an hour we sat in silence . The omnipresent silence was making the air stiff . Something told me that grandma had never been happy with her life . I remember daddy telling that grandma was into writing .Travelogues specially . Be it the worst place on earth she conjures up the tiniest details and embellish it to create a haven out of hell . Yes . I believed the traveller in grandma . If anything it was travelling that moved her . Sometimes I have seen her sitting near the stream behind our house mulling about something and jotting down something in her notepad . I asked to myself if she was workaholic . And I think that was an extremely bad word . I discovered her passion really late . For grandpa had been a disciplinarian and wanted a quiet life . So grandma had to compromise about her work , resign her job as a travel journalist from Nat Geo magazine and limit her vast mind to the four walls of our home. But what surprised me was her still passionate mind that was vulnerable to a similar passionate mind. “ So what was he like .What did you both talk about for 30 years ? Is he married ? “ .I asked too much but I didn’t regret it . She straightened herself up and started “ He was me . Like my twin . I always thought God made someone like me only once , but there he was . Our friendship was gender blind. And there was only the language of passion. He was granted the freedom to do it and mine was taken away . So he helped me to keep it alive in my heart . Something that your grandpa failed to realise and to do” . I wanted to know more about him , but I didn’t feel like asking her . “As of family , we promised that we wouldn’t ask about the specifics. So apart from his professional life I don’t know about his persona “. I felt relieved . So it didn’t culminate in something that I feared . “ But weren’t you curious . Its obvious that if you start talking to a person you primarily feel this irresistible surge to ask them about their private life. I have heard there is much more intrigue in it . She started laughing at this . “I have never asked for his name and neither did he . We never knew if it was just a silly prank from both sides and even worse I am not even sure if it is a him “. I gulped “ What ? How can two people get so close emotionally without knowing the specifics . That’s crazy “ . She nodded her head . “So it was “ . What has the cottage got anything to do with it . I thought . Did they meet up here ? No. They promised not to. So it was something else . And what if she is going to ask me about my business here . I don’t want her to know that I just escaped the proposal plan and the meeting with groom . This was practically not the time . “ Grandma you never told what this has got to do with this cottage and place “. She sat with her eyes closed , her face was serene and her already wan face seemed heavy for the first time . “ This place and this cottage was built as a reminder of my friend by your grandpa “ . I stared at her .” Grandpa ? He knew this ? And he was ok with it ? “ . Grandpa sometimes deliberately made his life sordid and was typically old school in everything . He once nearly burned my audio system while playing a soundtrack which he thought was voodoo stuff . And I had to convince him for a week that Im not possessed . “I know grandpa didn’t do it . “ I told her without a moment’s hesitation . “He did as a matter of fact . I know how strict and orthodoxical he had been ., but those days when he was bedridden I could spent more time with him and he told that he was really late to realise his mistakes . And that’s when I told him about this penfriend and he told that this was the least he could do for that presence that made me smile “ . She struggled to get handkerchief from her blouse pocket and slowly wiped her eyes. Those tears reminded me of the dewdrops that get stuck at the tip of leaves after a slow shower . They shone in the sunlight casting an iridescent vision . Its unbelievable how one can see a rainbow in something small and shortliving . “ And your grandpa wanted me to stay in touch with him , as long as both of us can . And yesterday...I was aware of his illness , but there was nothing I could do . The world where I inhabited was destroyed yesterday . What is a painter without a canvas ? “ . We watched the sunset for a while . The azure expanse dissolved a powerful ball of energy and the foamy white puffs , moved slowly . There was something about this sunset . I could feel her cold hands cupped in my warm fingers and I caressed her knuckles . No one knows what is going to don on us tommorow . For tomorrow always seemed long today . “ Its getting late grandma . Shall we go home ? “ I asked careful not to make her slid from my shoulder . She didn’t reply . “ Grandma ? Its almost 8 “ I straightened her hands and as if made of pure flesh it fell down from my grip . I knew what was happening . I knew what happened . “ You didn’t wait to hear my story grandma . I would have been happy to see you smile “.