Stories      
Twenty Years Later ...
by Julia Dutta

Guruji, Pandit Pratap, sitting in his chair of thirty years was excited and feeling quite warm although it was chilly outside on the streets of his bungalow in a remote town in Madhya Pradesh. Every now and then he would walk to his private terrace and look at the road on the left of his house to see if the carriage he was expecting any moment had arrived. Then when he saw that it had not arrived, he would return to his chair and mumble…"Heaven knows why it is taking so much time…they should have been here by now." He would then ask his small handy boy to go and see. This having been repeated a few times over, he now felt that he must relax…but alas! That was not to be. Again he would go to the terrace thinking that this time surely the carriage would be there and when he saw that it wasn’t there he would return sending the little boy again to see.

Suddenly his attention caught the radio and he saw dust on the top of it. It was one o’clock in the morning but today he had to have everything spotlessly clean. He had engaged the boy all day long in cleaning. His room looked bright and dazzling.

As he watched the boy dusting the radio in the middle of the night, he heard his sister-in-law call out to him. " Here she is Pratap, your daughter. Don’t you want to come down to see her? Hurry up!"

Guruji Pandit Pratap’s heart skipped a beat. He became excited and confused. He searched for his slipper…decided to forget it…but went to wear his shoes…then changed his mind and ran down the stairs with one slipper on. There she was his only daughter standing awkwardly besides her aunt. He rushed to hold her in his arms although he was surprised that she did not really look like what he imagined her to be.

Twenty years ago, his wife, this very girl’s mother had decided to leave his house and lead a life on her own. The child she bore never came to see him although she was his. He had sent frequent messages through different sources to his daughter so that she could be brought to his house but her mother intervened and would not allow that. Her condition was that if he wanted to see his child, he would have to come to where she was living. He refused. Why should he go to her house when it is she who had decided to go on her own? Why should he travel out of his house to see his child, his child who belonged to him and to his house? A big battle had ensued between them and he had lost.

His family blamed him and urged him to fight for his rights. They blamed him for not being "man enough". However, they also sympathized with him occasionally.

Luckily he had a love of music and he spent more and more hours in singing and practicing music. He gathered friends who had similar tastes and everyday he had his music sessions in his house. This kept him very involved. Hence he had managed to keep his mind engaged in matters that could keep him from remembering the deprivations of his life and his child. It was a good defense and it also walled him from the family and protected him from harsh words and remarks. As he went deeper into his music all the sorrow in his heart gave way to a soulful voice and those who heard him sing could not help their tears from flowing.

People vied with one another to send their children to him to learn music and capture the gift of talent in him. He gladly distributed his sorrow and sadness, and converted many with a little spark into talented musicians. People heard and heard again his songs and the freshness never wore out of the songs or ever the angst in his heart fail to anoint the songs. Simply said they were so beautiful.

Only now in the last week, his voice had disappeared. His family said " You will never sing again since the reason for all your soulful songs have come to an end".

So he looked at this grown up child of his and thought of her mother. How proud she was! Why couldn’t she have come along as well? He searched in the face of his daughter for the face of his wife and of course he saw her there.

Twenty long years! After twenty long years to see your own child! He had created many images in his mind of her. All these images crumbled as he saw the real face of his daughter. The creations of the mind were too fragile to withstand the face of reality. He had built up the moment of their first meeting…but when that moment came it unraveled itself in its own unique way.

That night, Guruji could not sleep at all. It was day for him and his heart unleashed the floodgates of forgotten memories and hopes and desires he had bottled up all these many years. He felt hot and humid although it was so cold outside. His mind was restless, his music had fled…he was amazed! For all of twenty years they were his only companions - now they had fled!

He could not bear to keep his daughter away from his eyes. He made her sit beside him all day and pampered her. His daughter was reserved and talked very little. However for him it was not necessary to converse…he was happy to be with her sitting beside him.

And then the day came for her to go…

He consoled himself "She will come back I know. She will come back with her mother. We will put away everything behind us and start afresh…there is hope".

Time passed. No, his daughter never returned. His family said " See we told you she would not come again. She will never look after you." Guruji refused to believe that "You’ll see, she will take me away to where she is". Everybody laughed.

Then one day he got the message that his wife was coming. He was elated! He called for his sister and said " My beloved sister, you have looked after me all these years, but today I will say to you that I am feeling so much happiness that really my heart is paining!

His sister laughed…all pain will now go she said. She is coming don’t you know.

On that night, Guruji Pandit Pratap breathed his last. His heart stopped. He could not bear this painful joy any more and as his life ran out of his breath he caught himself in the picture frame of his wedding day.

Pandit Pratap had gone…far away from both pain and pleasure – painful pleasure that then had turned to pleasurable pain. He was free…free from all. No, he could not have taken this joy; it was too painful.

The day after his passing away, his daughter read the telegram that said, "Your father died on 22nd December. Shraddh on 2nd January."

She had tried to remember the day and date but could not. It took her twenty more years to weep at the loss of her father. By then she had grown beyond feeling too much pain or too much pleasure.

In his memory she took to his tradition. She sang his songs.    

October 21, 2007

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