Forgotten Spears

“She waited from the first blossom of the spring,
Till the last raindrop of the monsoon
And when she was about to close her eyes, she realized
Maybe he’ll arrive with the first dewdrops of winter”

November 2010

आज भी चुनरी से टप टप कर तुम्हारी यादें टपकती रही, आज भी सिरहाने के कोने से तुम्हारे संग बितायी रातें टपकती रही| आज फिर पिताजी ने शादी की बात छेड़ी थी, आज भी रह रह कर हर आहट तुम्हारे आने का ही एहसास करा रही थी| आज भी हर बादल के संग, तुम्हारे होने की एक आस आती है| आज भी हर झोंके के संग हवा तुम्हारी साँसों का संदेशा लाती है, न जाने क्यों इतना तड़पाते हो, आ कर अब मुझे क्यों नहीं ले जाते हो| अब बस भी करो ना, देखो हाथों की मेहँदी आज भी तुम्हारे बिना फीकी सी रह गयी|

“In her almirah, she hid all the letters
She had written for him,
The letters, which still waited for an address
Of that beautiful destination to deliver the magical words
She stored in them.
The stars searched for him,
As she asked moon to deliver her messages to him,
Everynight.”

June 2011

आज कॉलेज के बैग में कुछ ख़त पड़े हुए मिले थे, याद है तुमने दिए थे| आज मुझे संदूक में वो किताब मिली थी, जो तुमने स्कूल में दी थी| याद है वो गुलाब जो पिछली मुलाक़ात में तुमने मुझे दिया था, आज भी उस किताब में मौजूद है| उस गुलाब को आज भी इंतज़ार है उन उँगलियों का जिन्होंने कभी उन्हें अपने प्यार के साथ किसी को पकड़ाया था, और किसी गुलाब को आज भी इंतज़ार है उन उँगलियों का जिन्होंने कभी उसकी पंखुड़ियों को धीरे से सहलाया था और एक भँवरे की तरह चूम कर आने वाली हर रात को खूबसूरत बना दिया था| आज भी उन्ही रातों को अपनी झोली में संभाले वो गुलाब बैठा है इंतज़ार में, अब तो आ जाओ|

“Once again she stayed awake from the midnight
When once he used to catch her last tear,
Till the first morning light
When once he used to convert that tear into the first smile”

January 2012

आज की रात सब बहुत खुश थे, पिताजी कह रहे थे इससे अच्छा लड़का मुझे नहीं मिल सकता| मैं हँस दी, मन तो था की बता दूँ मुझे पहले ही ऐसा कोई मिल चुका है| वही जिसकी याद में कल एक और रात जग कर बिता दी थी| आज मेहँदी न जाने क्यों खिल कर आ रही है, आज न जाने क्यों तुम्हारे आने की आस न जाने क्यों फिरसे आ रही है? देखो आज भी हर पल में तुम्हारा ही नाम लिखा है, कल रात भी सोते हुए आखिरी सपना तुम्हारा ही दिखा है| न जाने ससुराल कैसा होगा, न जाने जो पिताजी ने मेरे लिए चुना है वो तुम्हारे जैसा होगा| न जाने तुम कब आओगे, न जाने संग अपने कब ले जाओगे|

“With the first rays of sun, drenched by her tears,
With the last rays of moonlight, once again she caressed her fears
She looked at those letters for the last time,
As the tears washed away his memories to the bottom of her heart,
Where they still give her a comforting pain after all these years,

Those forgotten spears…”

Photography by: Sarika Gangwal

Written by: Abhinav Chandel 

Trapped

“As the moon will soar high in the sky, I will embark on another painful journey. What is a night to me when every moment is dark in my life.

It has been three years, and I am still to know about the happiness he promised me the day we got married. A happiness which I have to derive from serving his happiness, a happiness which I have to derive by being trapped in this house or the happiness I’ll derive by killing my own dreams. Just like every night, his hands like a lizard will crawl on my bare skin that has been polluted by his dirt since day 1.  And as I lay all night staring at the ceiling and shouting in the silence, I wonder if he has ever heard the screams which explodes from every pore of my body. A body he uses to fulfil his thirst every night.

From the silhouette of the bed, every night I see a monster staring at me. It is growing in size by each passing day, and laughs at me, at my misery. I wonder if I should be scared of that monster, or of him.

Last night he came home all drunk, this has become a regular affair in past few months. And whenever he’s drunk, he loves to slap me. However, who am I to say anything, who’s there to listen to me. His family asks me why haven’t I given them a grandson until now, but how can I tell anyone about those lonely evenings I have spent in abortion clinics killing the underdeveloped offspring of this evil. I don’t want my child to grow up in an environment which reeks of hate and helplessness.

This house, which I loved once is clutching me inside its jaws more tightly with each passing day, every corner reminds me of those dreams I killed to get married to him. Every light bulb reminds of the sun that I haven’t seen from past one week since he locked me inside this house for complaining to his mother. Every word of his hits me like a spear and draws a drop of blood. With each droplet I am dying, just like her, my baby, whom he killed because she was also a girl like me.

I think that monster is actually my saviour; I have seen him smiling at me. I guess he’s calling me towards an abyss, a beautiful abyss and today mirror shows me the face of a victim who would prefer death over life any day.

Death over this kind of life.”

—–

He turned over to the next page and it was blank. It was the last page in her diary lying under the bed.

“What did you say, what happened to her?” Inspector asked him after closing the diary and keeping it in his bag.

“Last night when I returned from the office, I saw a window broken and I found a letter in which she has mentioned that she’s going away forever,” her husband answered.

“Jayesh, note down the report and take all the necessary information,” the inspector instructed the constable and walked out of the house.

The early morning sunrays fell on his face as he looked at the diary again. There was an expression of satisfaction on his face while he whispered to the winter wind as if asking them to deliver his message to her,

“Best of luck for a new life.”

He smiled and walked on.

 

Photograph By: Sarika Gangwal

Written By: Abhinav Chandel 

Mr Ahmed and his Diary

 

13th October 2011

“Tuition and computer classes are more important for them than you dad. Will you be answerable if in future they’re not able to bag high paying jobs. Will you give them the luxuries they require with your meagre savings and your idiotic wordplay etc. activities? They don’t need your fables; they need real education which isn’t possible for them as long as you’re around being a distraction.”

“Yes I know they’re your only source of entertainment. Therefore, we’ve decided you to shift to a retirement home where you’ll find many like you. You can talk to them all day long because just like you they’re also free for the rest of their lives.”

“Of course it’s your home and on important occasions you can come here. In fact, we’ll make sure that every year we celebrate your birthday at our home but at this moment you’re becoming an unnecessary burden on us.”

“I guess you should be relieved that I’m not selling this home like Meher wanted. She wanted us to shift to Mumbai with the money we’ll get after selling this house. However, I’ve told her that you’ve struggled a lot to build this house and thus we’re not going to sell it until your death.”

“Yes dad I’ve talked to the authorities, we’ll be leaving this weekend once I’m done with my official tour.”

This was the last conversation I had with him before leaving the house. My son, my dream, my nightmare.

I have no regrets, I have always lived my life on my terms and do not want to be a burden on anyone.

*****

That was the last entry in the diary lying on the berth no. 55, side lower of Goa Express. The owner of this diary had forgotten it on that berth before getting down at his destination. Except this entry, there were entries about the activities with his grandchild, younger generation’s perspective towards life and some related to his late wife.  I looked for the address or any other kind of information about the owner but none was present except ‘Mr Ahmed’ written on the first page.

“Adnan Ahmed M66 55 SL” displayed the 3AC compartment’s reservation chart along with the information that he was travelling from Pune to Gwalior.

“Do you remember this hand towel and the watch?” A police constable came up to me and asked.

He showed me a mustard coloured hand towel and a round dial HMT watch.  The golden polish of watch’s frame was peeling off at places and the black strap wasn’t looking as old as the watch. Certainly the owner of the watch got the strap changed recently, the watch was working perfectly but I noticed there was a crack on it as if it had a fallen off owner’s wrist.

It was Mr Ahmed’s watch. I remembered, asking him the time while waiting for the train to depart from Pune railway station.

*****

“4:30”, the man wearing a white kurta pyjama replied in an emotionless voice. He didn’t even bother looking at the person asking him the time.

There was something about him that attracted me. He looked lost in his own thoughts as I tried hard to concentrate on the novel I had bought to keep me occupied during the journey. However, after every few minutes his presence was distracting me. He had a look of serenity on his face, as if the man had nothing to lose or gain as if he had lived his life without any regrets. A smile was plastered on his face all this while, but it wasn’t a smile of expectation or some beautiful thought, it was an expression of contentment.

I tried striking conversation with him but monosyllables were all I received in reply.

Throughout the journey he kept his head rested on the windowpane and was looking somewhere far, as if searching for a clue amidst the blue sky, beyond those patches of white clouds. And as I sat there, with all the hustle bustle of the train, I found a look of peace and calm on his face. There was something about him, he wasn’t upset, neither was he happy.

 Does he have any emotions? Was the question popping up in my mind whenever I stared at him. Then suddenly he got down, leaving behind his diary at one obscure railway station.

*****

“Do you remember it?” The constable shook me breaking my thought process.

“Yes I do. It belongs to the man sitting on the berth no. 55.”

“Are you sure?” Constable questioned.

“Yes, but what happened?” I asked but constable just thanked me, and left. Before I could ask him again I spotted some blood stains on the hand towel.

“This can’t be true, he didn’t look like a man who….” Then it hit me,

Gwalior was still 2 hours away.