The evening sun was spreading its veil around the sky with a reddish tinge. The guard was standing on the tank stand, peering around for the final survey. People who came here for their evening walk-outs had returned to their homes. No one was there, except the obtuse fisherman on the north-east corner, sitting with his rod. The guard knew there was no use in warding him off; he'd sit there till 1 AM, continuously hoping for a good catch.
The clock-bell of the University struck ten. The guard was satisfied that no bout of cattle or animals have come into the tank through the fencing. He thought to go in and doze off, until the second when he saw a shadowy figurine walk towards the water's edge some yards far away. He considered it as a ghost in the beginning, but dismissed the thought of presence of supernatural beings in such a quaint town. There was no possibility of ablutions at this hour. He observed that it was a woman.
She sat on the last step and kept a folded paper on it. She then went knee-deep into the water and was undoubtedly saying something, with her head bowed. He was able to guess what's going to happen. He began to walk in a great speed towards the tank. The signs which can't be mistaken for something else - prayers, then the police and the downright dive of the tank's reputation.
He shouted, "Hey! You! Come out of the bloody water!" The figurine looked up from the water. "Do you wanna go home with a cold?" He sped down the stairs and took up the letter. Fortunately, the moon was bright enough to help to read the letter. He read it and muttered, "Go and throw yourself under an engine or under a truck on the highway. Why to spoil such a nice and divine tank?"
The moon then sought to put some light on the girl's face, young and wet with tears. A surge of pity rushed through him. He said in a mild tone, "Come up, now. Sit up, no two steps up. Not so near to the water." She paid heed and sat three steps from the water. He took out a cigarette and lighted it. He began smoking and said in the same mild tone, "It's late... Why don't you go home now?"
She spluttered through her sobbing, "I've got no place to be called home."
"Do you take me for an idiot? You'd grow up like this in a home, I'm pretty sure." He retorted.
"My mother died when I was four ----" she said.
"It's a bit visible, if I didn't offend you. Did your father remarried, and your stepmother is nothing less than a tyrant?" he asked.
"How did you know this?" she asked, her eyes wide and her cheeks almost sodden with tears.
"I'm over sixty, young lady," he answered with a slight chuckle, suddenly changing his face he asked, "Did your stepmother trouble you?"
"No. She's a very kind woman. She has looked after me and my brothers since my father has died. She had money and she grew us up with such flair, she spends most on us than on her." she answered.
He was now getting restless. He looked at the night sky, "I really advise you to go to home, madam. It's really getting very late now."
"I told you I have no home..." she said.
"Your stepmother seems all right to me. She is good to you." he said, now tired.
"I don't intend to be a burden to anyone. Who am I to her?" she said.
"You are the daughter of her husband, that's what you are. That is enough if you ask me." he said.
"I don't want to live on anyone's funding!" she said.
"Then you'll have to sit here until you get a man of your own." he said coolly.
She glared at him, which was starkly visible in the night sky, "I don't want to marry! I want to learn and become a teacher and earn a life! I don't want to marry, to shackle myself. I often hear my stepmother talk to my eldest brother, concerning about my age, my future. I do know that my education in college is not affordable, but I really want to study!"
"I was wishing for a scholarship. That might save me from this. But they announced it this evening. Everyone - can you believe it? - Everyone got it, not me. Only my name--" she broke down again. He was perplexed, he was not able to make head or tail of the situation. She said, broken, "They'll come to know of this, Someone's coming tomorrow to see me."
"Marry that guy and god bless you have a happy life."
"No no just don't say that!" she wailed. "I don't want to marry! I want to study, I want to live!"
The tranquil night was punctured by her wails and sobs. His childhood suffers came in front of his eyes like a film. He remembered how he was the sole survivor in his family due to a pandemic in his village; How his house was snatched from him by his father's cunning relatives; How he was roaming around ridiculed by hunger and penury.
"Every person in this world has his or her hardships," he said, "If everyone begins to kill themselves over each one of them, I don't know how many time you'll have to drown. I think the dead might be drowned repeatedly, if that was in effect." The moments flowed through him, his voice breaking with sadness, "You people are in your youth, you haven't seen real sorrow..." a sob broke out as he said, "I prayed for a son, the almighty gave me eight children. Only one lives now, a daughter. The rest of them didn't see the seventh year."
She fell silent. Her bewilderment at such a plight was like written along her face. The clock-bell of the University struck eleven. He said, "Now, go home."
"How many times should I say that I have no home?" she asked,
"Now!" he blared, frustration lacing every single note of his voice, "You are just cooking up a feast out of thin air. Don't be so stubborn..."
"You don't know my problems." She said.
He stood up, brushed up his dress and said with a straight face, "I have tried my best. If you are going to be so foolishly stubborn, then go ahead. I'll not do a thing, you are free to drown." He kept the letter at the step and walked away, giving her a last glance as he reached the last step, not a word passing between them.
The first thing he did when he came for duty next morning was to check the step where the letter was kept, where it was still. He kicked the ground and held his head. He picked up the letter and glared at it, making him wish it would've told him about her presence stance. He tore that letter and flung it away on the water. The bits were flowing away with the serene ripples. "I am responsible for one suicide at least." He resumed his work, waiting for her remains to be ashore for months. Maybe it stuck to the bottom - he remarked every time the thought made up to him.
Some years later, the guard made out a final survey and was getting ready to go home. Just then, a car pulled out and stopped in front of the wall. A man, a woman and two children came out. The woman seemed to be very much familiar to him. The family's eyes fell onto the guard. The guard joined his hands into a formal greeting. What he got in reply was an inconsequential glance from the woman. The family got into the car and went away. The guard shook his head and smiled, "Not her... She's not the one," and walked away to his home.