story one

                                              FADED COLORS

I got down from the night train and was going to cross the station gate when suddenly I saw an old lady, who seemed to be in her late seventies, sitting next to the gate and selling fresh flowers. Her face and physique somehow reminded me of my grandmother. As my parents were busy carrying over the luggage and searching for a locomotive, I went up to her in the meantime. As I neared, she raised her head and welcomed me with a very bright and genuine smile. I swear my heart melted for the moment. To me, she seemed to be the night of an autumn sky, filled with the sparkling moonlight, undisturbed and indifferent of the oncoming winter.

I smiled back. “Which flowers do you want beta ?” she asked. Well, truly speaking I was least interested to buy flowers at that time, but I could not bring myself being rude; I stooped down and started scrutinizing them. “These flowers are so bright you see, so fresh and they smell like heaven”, she continued, “I grew them myself in the garden”, she said proudly.

“So all these flowers have come from your garden?” I asked feeling surprised. “Yes, I grew them all alone. They are like my children; I tend to them with all my energy and love and they in turn help me sustain myself and earn a living” she said.

“If you don’t mind, doesn’t your family help you out with these? I mean, you are getting old, you shouldn’t be working at these hours. It’s pretty cold and it might affect your health.” I muttered.

She felt silent and I cursed myself for being too much inquisitive. I never wanted to upset her. There was a latent agony in her eyes and her face tried to deceive them but with little success.

“I am sorry dadima! I had no intentions of upsetting you. I have this problem you see; poking my nose into anything and everything. No wonder I have a crooked nose!” I said, trying to imbibe a bit of humor so that I can cheer her up.

I don’t know whether it’s me calling her ‘dadima’ or my pathetic joke lit up her face, but my target was satiated.

“Do not be sorry dear. Actually there’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s all about the previous birth’s karma. I do have a son and he’s one of the most successful businessmen of this area.”

“Then why are you here? How can he let you work like this? I mean there’s nothing wrong in selling flowers but given your age, you shouldn’t.” I felt disgusted.

“No dear. It’s just that I don’t want to bother him much. He has a family of his own now. He has kids, he has his own social life. His wife supposedly dislikes me a lot. I never could understand the reason behind it, so one day my son asked me to leave.” She felt silent again and I bet I saw tears hidden behind the veil of her lashes. She continued, “But I don’t have any sour feeling towards them. Maybe I was the odd one out. Maybe I didn’t fit into their world.” She uttered, trying to balance her choked voice.

I wondered how can a mother not be a part of one’s family; how can anyone desert that person who dedicated an entire life towards his/her well-being; how can the bowl remain empty forever!

“Nevermind! I pray that he receives all success in his further life and may Lord bless him and his family with good health and fortune.” And then she got involved in a short prayer.

I felt helpless. There was a certain resignation into her and for a moment I felt like hugging her tight; close enough for her to feel that she mattered. She mattered to the flowers and her garden she tended, she mattered to the air she breathed, the roof that sheltered her, to the Almighty which tested her and yes! She mattered to me.

But all I could do was hold her hands tight and say nothing. There was a void between us which I could never fill. “Don’t worry dadima! Everything will be fine.” I said, knowing pretty well that nothing will be. I wiped her tears which were now streaming down as if they had been tamed for years and now have been let loose.

I saw the taxi streaming in. I bought a pair of pink roses and thrusted a five hundred rupees note into her fragile tender hands. “No beta, it’s not required. Take it as a gift from dadima” She said, trying to force them back into my well manicured hands.

“Thank you so much for this lovely gift but I request, you accept this as a small return gift from my side, a gift from your beta”. I croaked almost choking.

“I will come back and meet you again”, I said bidding her farewell and wishing that I do get to meet her again. She planted her supple tender lips upon my forehead and asked me to take care and for the moment, I wished the kiss stayed longer.

I went back to the place where my parents had been waiting. “Where were you all this time? I felt concerned.” said my mother, and I ended up hugging her tight and mumbling. “Stay close to me. ALWAYS !”

The next year as I visited the place once again, the winter had already arrived.

                                                              - Some bowls remain empty forever.