Ephemeral Time, Eternal Love

 

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

Life is strangely beautiful and offers itself in its newness every moment in time. Time is stupendously agile. It’s here and at the same instant it’s there...sometimes everywhere and the other, nowhere.

I was draping myself in yet another new saree that had not even hit the market with my husband’s reflection gazing at me with pride and rapture. I was used to it by now. He was in the fashion industry and whatever he created would only make its way to the market after it had adorned me. He was larger than life. His youthfulness and boyish vigour made my heart dance. Be it a lazy morning or past midnight he was always up and ready to attend to my demands. I remember the ice cream that I craved at 2 A.M. and without the slightest hesitation he was up and the spirit of Mumbai, in confluence with his, would be awake to satiate my yearnings. We got drenched in the monsoons at Marine Drive with hot corn and coffee and his scent lingered all over me. Every speck of life pulsated with joy and seamless love. 

He made my mother happy; he took the first step to break the ice with my dad. He did not show any reluctance to receive my mum’s call at the break of dawn. I remember his eagerness to travel along with my family; he celebrated every relation. His genuine efforts to cut off the “in-law” title from his status were fruitful. His advocacy saved me from various situations of discord. He easily made space for me, not just in his life but in the hearts of his family members. He was the only son to my parents-in-law and a pampered grandson of my grand parents-in-law whom he served with effortless concern. He was a charmer for our daughter Aaliya. He indulged her and spoiled her with a lot of attention. He believed in living life king size. The appetite for exuberance was just one element of his flamboyant persona. 

My life for eight years had been happily busy with night life, movies, picnics, vacations, loving family and above all his rejuvenating love. I had every reason to smile. I was in the third trimester of my second pregnancy with my son Dhruv. After a lot of persuasion and negotiation I got him to agree to send me to my mum’s place in Kolkata for a few weeks, but after just a couple of days, he arrived there on the pretext of some work. He could not be without me; there was no concept of ‘space’ between us. 

Even though I was a level-headed individual I went with the frenzied flow and was almost submerged in the vastness of his benevolent care. We spent long hours talking and envisioning our future, going on a world tour, ensuring that the kids were well settled in life. We would argue about the choice of careers for them and then laugh heartily at our absurdity. He held my hand almost anywhere and on being nudged he would boldly retort, “I vowed to hold these hands at the wedding fire in front of thousands of eyes. I guess it was meant to be forever and moreover the touch breathes life into my being.” He was very excited about our to-be-born son. 

That day I was feeling weak and nauseous and he was about to board the train to Delhi. He wanted me to accompany him to the station so that he could spend some more time with me and I let it pass which I regret so much. He did not want to go and kept stroking my bulging belly anxiously awaiting the moment and a tear wet my lap. He got delayed, we were sure he would miss the train but unfortunately the train was also running late. I hurriedly sent him off. I consoled the weeping Aaliya saying that we would be with him in just a week. 

And then that night the news shook us all. I heard the shattering sounds of my dream like life. The train had met with a fatal accident and in between the crafty defensive statements of politicians the screen was flashing a prolonged list of the deceased. With tearful eyes and distorted vision I scanned through the names countless times. I found his name there. My heart sank. And even then I did not believe it and frantically kept trying to call his mobile, but in vain. I refused to accept the bellowing shrieks of my mother and the tense stone-like figure of my dad; I refused to confront the betrayal of fate; I refused to give up on the father of my little daughter and unborn son; I refused to let the winsome love of his impassioned soul fade away. 

But I had to breathe the preposterous and mercilessly heavy air around me. He left enough of everything for us to survive a lifetime but the emptiness was consuming me, I roamed in a silent house post midnight not able to bear the pain. My daughter slept with his photograph. And my son did not understand the concept of a father. I joined work. I started working in his office only to feel more miserable as the walls of the office echoed his absence to me. I switched jobs and moved on. The only joy that my heart knew now was in the smiles and hugs of my kids when I returned after the day’s work. The feeling that someone awaited me gave me the reason to live. But I was waiting for someone indefinitely and my heart seemed to never give up and often struggled with my mind. My condition was moving towards a perpetual depression and had to be tackled before it became irreversible. 

My parents in-law although very nice people started to curb my independence with the impending fear of losing me and the kids. Their insecurity grew to an uncomfortable point where I was not allowed to talk to my own parents over the phone without their presence. I was not allowed to move out of the house alone. 

And when after 3 years my parents brought the proposal of my marriage to a matured man who was willing to lovingly accept my children, I welcomed their decision to bring some stability in my family life. I gave myself the permission to love again, to smile again and to be whole again. I gave myself the liberty to dream again. My powerful and rich in-laws kept a bitter condition .They bartered my kids in exchange of my freedom. They blamed me for betrayal. They did not let my little ones accept my husband as their father. Life had given us yet another opportunity to return a bit of what it had snatched away. But fate has betrayed me once again. I am now allowed to meet my children once in a month for a few hours. After he passed away I could never be complete. I often wondered had it been me in place of him ... would my kids still be devoid of a family? My struggle to get my family and my respect back is on. My kids love and understand me and are waiting to return to me as much as I am longing to be with them. 

The love that he gave me, gives me strength to carry on and ride on the changing tides of time. Today, Life has moved on without him but with the radiating effulgence of his afterglow. My daughter has inherited his smile and my son his vigour. They are preoccupied with their lives, with friends, family and their endless activities. Once again ephemeral time has come to a different platform. I am reconciled with life. 

I am redeeming the lost bliss of life, drop by drop. But life has never been the same. When I hear the pattering rain on the window sill I open up all the locked doors in and out with a swelling heart and feel the rain on my palms as if someone is breathing new life into my being. The sanguine and familiar fragrance wraps me in ecstasy and reminiscence.

 -@shreejajhawar (A real story of a friend ,names have been changed)