Friday, 2 January 2015

STORY- LOVE NEVER DIES

I had gone to attend a marriage. After sitting among the guests for a reasonable time, for formality, I wandered into the rice fields, at the back of the temple .

I had seen the temple several times, always with my wife; but never ventured towards the east. Now I wanted to do it.
Half an hour took me to the Malabar of at least a thousand years ago. I found myself in the middle of a valley, surrounded by small hills. The paddy was only a month old, a stage which I like to watch and enjoy. There was the sound of clear water flowing along small channels among the fields. Not a human being to be seen.
I sat at a point along the path treaded by villagers, to collect ripe mangoes lying there. The sweetness of the fruit was heady and I did not see the girl coming from the temple.
Where are you going Sir? She asked.
Nowhere. I like roaming about. Just to see the country side. Most of the time I walk, a pastime I am never tired of.
Like my mother; she too enjoys walking.
Who is your mother?
Saraswathy teacher.
Where is she working?
She taught in the government school at Shoranur. Now she has retired and come back to her home.
How many people are there?
Only mother and myself. Sir, come home. We will give you plenty of mangoes.
I hesitated; her face somehow attracted me. I followed her.
Presently, we came to a spacious orchard. We had to walk for five minutes to reach the old fashioned house which was a three storeyed building with laterite stones, unplastered and with tiles.
The whole atmosphere has a romantic appeal.
The girl, about fifteen years, ran in and came out with her mother.
Oh! It is Sir: she cried out.
I could not recollect her face. Her hair is black and curly. Those eyes somehow ticked something and I tried to recollect it.
She continued: you taught us in the seventh standard. You were very shy and never looked at girls. You were very thin and always thinking of something. Among teachers also you remained aloof.
You are talking about Durga High School at Kanhangad? I was there only for four months.
We all liked you. You used to tell us stories.
Where is your husband? How did you study in a far away school?
Because there was no school here. My uncle was a teacher there. I forgot to ask for tea.; or is it coffee? Sarala, put water for boiling.
She was very excited and went on talking. In between, she went in and brought coffee.
What about your children?
Only one son. He married a negro, the daughter of his business partner. Rarely, they come home.
I am sorry to hear this.
I do not know how long I remained talking to Saraswathy. Her enthusiasm percolated to me.
At last I came to the marriage hall, not before promising to write to her. We had exchanged address and phone number of each other.
My wife and I went to the temples in Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka. When we returned, there were many bulky envelops and I hid them from my wife. Afterwards, when I read them all, I became pensive. What would have happened if I had continued to teach at Durga High School? Will she not let me know of her love for me? I was penniless and we are from different castes. Will I stand up for our marriage? It is a ticklish question. In a way I am glad it did not happen.
One day she came to our house with the girl. She is due to join college. Could I stand as her local guardian?
I consulted my wife. She agreed to accommodate Sarala.
I loved the girl as my own daughter. She was above average but needed tuition. So I arranged a masterji.
In the mean time, my son and his wife came home. They wanted a quiet place to spend their holiday. I suggested Saraswthy’s home. They later told me how devotedly she looked after their comforts. Their only regret is that she refused to accept any money. They returned, promising to come again.
Once when I fell ill, Saraswathy came and nursed me for about a fortnight. She had an opportunity to open her heart. She chided me for being so meek: There is nothing like love. Everything else is secondary. I am ready to die for love!
A decade later, my wife went to America. I received an urgent message from Saraswathy and went to see her. Sarala’s husband was also there..
She was very weak and held my hand tightly as if I can save her.
She told me when we were alone: say once that you love me.
I kissed her. I said: I LOVE YOU!!!
She smiled and slowly her grip of my hand slackened. Before my eyes, she breathed her last
Sarala told me that the house and orchard had been given to me as a gift.
I embraced the girl and wept.

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