"BUT....."
The woman took the best saree from her suitcase and draped it. The man selected the best kurtha from his bag and asked her whether it looked good. They looked at each other and exchanged smiles. They wanted to look at their best that day, simply because the day was special.
Their friends entered their room, chitchatted with them, and they appeared busy. Some among their friends even felt jealous looking at their bright faces. Some friends told, they were going to miss them both there.
‘It would be alright, some day this could happen to you too’, said the woman.
The man remained silent. Sometimes in moments of highest joy and highest hopes, people prefer to remain silent.
They took their luggage into the Xylo car that was waiting outside. The driver helped them to keep their bags inside. As the car started, they waved to those few who came to see them off, happiness found asylum in their faces and hearts, but, for how long? The car moved out of the gate, they looked back and saw the name board of the place they left. ‘Happy Home!’ (-for the oldage- , the second part was written in small letters. However, the name never matched the place, none were actually happy there!)
They were heading to their nest, where they once, had lived happily with their only son, their beloved son, the son who changed in the flows of time, who changed when he got a family of his own, when he got a beautiful and rich woman as his wife and a cute boy as his son. He didn’t have time for them, neither his wife. Their son told them who they were to him, very plainly, at their face,
‘Look, you both have become burdens to me and my family, you are getting old, we don’t have time to care you…Happy Home is a good place, they will look after you and you will get good company there…..and you must be there…”.
He didn’t even tell he would try to meet them once in a while. That story happened one year back.
‘We have lived there one year and one month!’ the woman said. The man looked outside through the glass window. His eyes were damp. She sensed that, and stopped talking. She silently wiped her tears. Now, their son has called them back, back home. He might have changed, he might have understood his mistake.
‘Shouldn’t we be happy?’ The man asked.
‘Yes , now,we must be happy!’ she whispered.
The car came to a halt in front of the big house. There were none to welcome them, the driver unloaded the things into the porch. The man and the woman stood before their house, no, which was once their house, like beggars. A small boy came out and looked at them and ran into the house. Their grandson..he has grown up much with just a year! And he looked at them as if they were strangers!
Their son came. Still, no signs of daughter-in-law.
‘Why are you standing here? Can’t you come inside?’
His tone didn’t have the slightest tinge of love or concern for his parents. Anyway he took their bags and led them to their old room in the ground floor.
She had tears in her eyes, while stepping into her, (once her!) home. The last time when she descended those steps, she never had thought she would step them again.
Their son didn’t talk much and led them to their room.
‘ I hope this room would be okay, since both of you have trouble going up the stairs!’
‘Yes , it is really okay!’ The man said.
The woman noticed how formal were their conversations with their own son. Their grandson was standing at the entrance of the room. She called him in, but he ran away.
‘Son, where is daughter?’ She asked.
‘She is busy with some project, upstairs!’ With that he left the room.
They both felt like aliens. They couldn’t comprehend the situation. But they enjoyed the smell of their old room….nostalgic!He sat in the chair and looked past the window. He saw the mango sapling they had planted years before, it had grown big enough and was bearing flowers.
‘Look!’ He told. She went near the window and saw the mango tree. She became emotional.
‘Didn’t someone tell not to dream about one’s own children as well as the flowers of a mango? How true!’ The old man didn’t reply for her statement.
It was noon and yet they were shut in that room, no one came in, they didn’t feel to go out. They felt they were in a place where they were unwanted, where their presence was most unwelcome. But, still they didn’t get what the drama was for. Calling them back from their old age home, giving them hopes and joy, and now all those were crushed into bits and ashes.
The son came in and asked them to join the lunch in the dining hall. A slight hope! They got up to follow. Then their son turned and said (better say ordered!)
‘Not in this dress. Wear one of the best ones you have!’ They felt like slaves, but they obeyed. After all he was/is their son.
The man’s face had shades of dislike and anger. The woman knew it.
‘What is wrong if he wanted us to look good? May be, we should change our attitude!’ She spoke.
The man sat in the chair. But when the woman looked at him with pleading eyes, he got up to dress. She gave him a loving smile.
They moved to the dining hall. There were a lot of people in the house, strangers. They didn’t know what was going on there. They stood still. Suddenly, from nowhere came a young lady, with all make-up and glittering dress and fell on their feet. Their daughter-in-law! They were taken aback, seeing the love which never existed before! They were more surprised when they saw someone was shooting this all, holding a video camera and their son joined them with a handicam. A well set drama!
‘Pitaji, mathaji, come and have food with us. We have prepared your favourite dishes!’ The young woman was speaking loud enough.
She held their hands as if helping them to walk. But actually she was dragging them. The camera men followed them, with the crew.They sat in the chairs, a lot of dishes indeed, enough for a bash. Their daughter-in-law now took each dish and literally poured everything into their large plate. It seemed she actually wanted them not to eat anything. The veg and non.veg dishes mixed with the food in one side of their plates. They were vegans, and their son knew it quite well. Soups and fruit salads mixed in the other side of the plate. It was really a mess, the way you give food to the dogs in the house. But even the dogs were served better, they thought!
The camera men with bright lights surrounded them. They couldn’t eat, they were uncomfortable, but they didn’t want to act bad. They ate and were sure they would poop after sometime. The daughter-in-law, was trying to serve more. But they both got up and washed their hands, without waiting for any other order. Then the grandchild came with two glasses of grape juice. They took it only because the little one extended it to them. They went inside their room and the shooting session was over.
Both the man and the woman felt sick, got trouble with their bowels and were thinking what was it all about. But they remained silent, they didn’t speak a word, they couldn’t!
When it was evening their son came again and asked them to follow him to the garden, but wearing another dress. They already were like film stars, dressing and acting. They looked for people with cameras. No one was there and they felt happy. But they saw two chairs arranged in the garden. They were asked to sit. They did. Now came their daughter-in-law in another costume and attire.
She stood behind them putting her hands one on each of them. Their son now held a camera, he asked them to smile, but no smile came from them. He came near and spoke.
‘Can’t you just put a smile, is there any cost?’ Everything in terms of money these days!
The old man’s hand was getting ready to slap the son. The woman held his hand.
A flash ! The daughter-in-law with a ‘close-up’ smile, the woman with a made-up smile and the man with no smile.
Pepe came and licked the man’s hand. The dog, recognised the old master and mistress and stood near them. He looked at their faces and wagged his tail. The man wished the dog could speak! Their son now came and gave a shout, ‘Pepe… come here!’ The dog looked painfully at them and went near the young master. The young master put him in his cage. The dog’s eyes had love and pity for both.
‘The old age home was better, let’s go!’ The man told, entering their room and shutting the door.
‘At least we can see our son and our grandson, someday they will be nice to us!’ The woman, the mother,was always hopeful, always forgiving.
The door opened. There stood their son at the entrance, as if he would get some terrible disease if he came inside.
‘Pack your bags quickly! The driver will drop you at the place where you came from. There is no much time. We need to go on another trip, after he returns from Happy Home!’
The words struck them.
‘Going back?!’ The man’s voice was blocked.
‘Yes! What did you think? Thought you were going to live here again? We both can’t take care of you, don’t you realize, we are busy!’
‘Then why….WHY did you play all this drama, why did you give us hope?’ Pain and fury mixed in the man’s voice.
‘Well, she is contesting for the Best Woman award organised by the Women’s Club this time. That includes everything about the contestant as well as her interactions with other family members, like how she treats and takes care of the in-laws and all…all those should be documented and sent to the panel , so that she may get selected as the Best Woman this year!’
‘Best Woman!’ The man’s voice was full of sarcasm and disgust. The son shut the door with a big sound.
They packed and got into the Xylo. The woman was trying hard to hide her tears but she never was successful in that attempt.
Their grandson was standing in the lawn with his bicycle. They looked at him. He turned back and started riding his bicycle. They never saw the daughter-in-law again.
They left the house. The woman’s blocked tears found relief as she cried.
‘We will never step into that house again, we have had enough, and more than enough….!’
The man looked at her and then away. After a few moments, he whispered.
‘It would be nice, if this Best Woman contest was there every year, as long as you are with me!’
She glared him as he continued.
‘I mean, if so, we can at least see Pepe!’
__END__
SOURCE BY-MRIDULA
PUBLISHED BY-OURHELLO.COM
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