Stolen Flowers

He was meeting her after four years. He still remembered her as the wide-eyed girl with mischief in her eyes and marbles in her pockets. She was the rebel, while he had always been the conformist in the family. As he waited for her outside the airport, he wondered if she was still the same old devil he'd once admired.

She waved at him as she stepped out into the sun. She looked worn out, defeated by life. What had he missed? Had their years apart created a gulf between them? His kids had grown up listening to the adventures he had had with her. It
all seemed like a dream now. He wanted to hug her, undo all the hurt he read in her eyes.

As children, they'd been the most notorious pair in town. He was a year younger than her, and often scared to go along with her schemes. But she always got her way. Their innumerable acts of
mischief had landed them in trouble with the parents, the neighbors and generally, the
townspeople. They'd done everything from painting the water tank red, to chasing squirrels up trees to scaring people at night. He laughed
aloud as he remembered the time they'd been chased out of Mrs. Sanders' garden for stealing
her dahlias.

The dahlias. That had been the summer they moved to this town. He looked at his sister, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, and wondered if that was when it had all changed. She had been
fifteen then. That had been the summer dad had left them. They had moved in with grandpa and
grandma and mom had gotten busy with the new job. They went to different schools after that
summer, and gradually grew apart. He had been busy figuring out the art of growing up, and trying
to fit in, while she had taken up a job at the local convenience store. The growing up years had been tough on him but he had eventually blended in. She was different. She stuck out like a sore
thumb wherever she went. Simply because she was different. She had alienated herself from the
family and started hanging around with her own group. And then they'd both gone off to college.
The last time he met her, she was getting married.

He'd been surprised at her choice of groom but she seemed happy with her choice.

She didn't look so happy now. He wanted to pull her close and tell her that he cared. But he'd never been able to do it then, and he knew he wouldn't be able to do it now. They'd never been much for public display of affection; it was a
family trait.

"The kids are pretty excited about your visit."

She smiled and mockingly asked, "I wonder why!"

She wasn't smiling when the kids jumped all over her a while later. She took her brother aside and
asked, "What have you told them, you idiot?! Sharon's only three, but she's been following me around as if she expects me to change costume and take to the skies!"

To her chagrin, he just grinned and told the kids that their aunt would tell them about her adventures after dinner. He knew that all this affection was suffocating her, but she needed this. She tried her best to keep
the children away, but they refused to leave her side.

"You used to love children!"

"Used to, brother. I used to be a kid too. I've grown up."

"Naah. You forgot to grow up. You just turned into a sullen teenager, and you've been that ever since."
She threw him a dirty look, and went into the kitchen. He wondered if he could get her back to her old self ever.

He knew what he had to do. She was reluctant at first, but an evening walk meant some time away from the overexcited children, and she agreed.

They walked along, without much to say. She broke the silence.

"Why this town? Of all the places, you chose this hellhole to settle down?!"

"What is it with this place and you? Because of all the bitter memories? You were fifteen when we moved here. It was a lifetime ago!"

"A lifetime ago for you, maybe. This town stole my innocence. It broke my spirit, Danny."

He was quiet. Then he turned around and smiled at her. "Remember Mrs. Sanders?"

"Oh! She was the devil! Remember how she screamed at mom the day we moved here?"

"Yes. Do you remember what we did to get back at her?"

She was grinning now. "How can I ever forget it, Danny? We stole her garden. Her whole goddamn
garden!"

"A garden full of dahlias. She
chased us all the way across the town!"

She was laughing now. "Yes, yes, I remember. We were so crazy!"

"I was the crazy one. I was scared of the consequences. You weren't. We hid the cart in the woods and then you made me push it all the way to this secret haunt you'd found!"


She sat down on a tree trunk and refused to meet his eyes. "I was a crazy fool, Danny. I believed I could make things work no matter what. I believed that I had the power to alter my life. I was an idiot."

"You believed you could make mother happy. You told me we didn't need Dad in our life. And it
took me a while, but I realized you were right. I've lived by your crazy ideals, Sis."

"You're a fool then. I gave up ages ago."

"Did you?"

"Yes. It doesn't work, Danny. Everything I did, it was to make myself believe that I could survive. My ideals, like my crazy schemes, crashed and burned."

"The dahlias, that was your last act of defiance. Everything you did after that, all the surliness, was just a facade."

He took her hand and led her into the woods. She was surprised and tried to stop him, but he just
increased his pace.

And even as she opened her mouth to chastise him, words failed her. He had brought her to her secret haunt. The place they had discovered the evening they shifted to the new town. The place
where they had hidden when Mrs. Sanders had chased them. The place where they'd dumped her
gardenful of dahlias.

She didn't know what to say, because her little brother had stolen all her words. And all the nasty voices in her head that told her that she was wrong. She was fifteen again. Fifteen and full of
hope. And she'd been right about every crazy dream she had.

For in the middle of the woods, where sunlight streamed in through the leaves, was a secret
garden. Full of stolen flowers.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Homecoming

As Mira got out of the taxi, she heard the crows caw louder. The memories were faint, but she knew that mother would’ve sensed her arrival. She had always been intuitive that way. The prodigal daughter was back home. She wanted to get in before the neighbours saw her. There’d be a hundred questions, and she was in no mood to answer any of them. She looked at the grand old home that belonged to her ancestors, and waited for that feeling of homecoming. Nada. Zilch. She could never fit in anywhere.

She’d flown out of this nest eight years ago. In these eight years, she’d discovered a lot about herself. Travel makes one wiser, and yes, it had been the same for her. She had grown older, wiser and stronger. And yet, she was back here. In a place she didn’t want to be. She tried asking herself what had brought her back here. There were no answers.

Mira watched as her mother set the plates and tried to make her feel comfortable. It amused her. She’d last met her four years ago, when she’d flown out to Mumbai. Mother had stayed with her for six months. She looked older now. The lines around her eyes were more prominent. She was but the shadow of the woman who’d nurtured her day and night. Mira willed herself to feel anything, anything that would make her feel alive, but it just didn’t happen. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

The food was good, but she had no appetite. No sense of smell or time. No will. If only she could cry. Mother had sensed her pain, somehow. It didn’t surprise her.

Mira had always hated the place. They had come down to the village when father had died. Mira had been thirteen and a rebellious brat. She’d been angry at the whole world, angry with it for snatching away her happiness. She’d lost the one person whom she adored. She’d been angry at her mother when she tried to tell her that her father would never come back. Her mother had held her close, sometimes whipped sense into her. It didn’t calm her down. It spurred her to fight against the unfairness of it all.

The growing up years had been hell. While mother bore everything with a patience that infuriated her, Mira fought them. At every turn. She punched every bully, drowned every scream. She knew that mother could never understand her anguish. She wondered how her mother could go on without the man she loved. For mother always smiled, and always had something good to tell her. The days when her courage failed her, mother would be there, with her arms open. And so she hid her tears in her mother’s soiled sarees. Her mother couldn’t answer Mira’s questions, but she told her that it wasn’t the end of their life. She egged her on, and Mira started to believe that there was a life out there, waiting for her. She learnt that happiness indeed existed. And so she bore their taunts and waited for her day.

The day she got the job, she promised herself that she would never come back. She wanted to take mother with her, but she didn’t go along with Mira’s plans. Mother wanted to stay back and take care of the old house that had been bequeathed to them after her father’s death. Mira tried persuading her, but wasn’t successful. And so the distance grew. She’d see her mother once in two years. It was often mother who’d travel all the way to see her. Mira couldn’t bring herself to come back to the godforsaken place. She grew, from a wide-eyed innocent to a hardened career woman. Or so she thought. She had the whole world at her feet. A job that she loved more than her life. And the guy. The one person who made her believe in the childhood she never had. He brought into her life colors, and flowers. Happiness and trinkets. He made her feel like a woman.

They were associates. He was technically her senior, but the friendliest of the lot. She was a hard worker, and he seemed impressed by her brains rather than her looks. It gave her more courage to come out with her ideas. She wasn’t too keen on him, but gradually he won her over with his sly wit and charm. She was now madly in love with him, and it seemed to her as if she’d never lived before him. Though they were seeing each other, they managed to keep their affair under wraps for the longest time. Mira wanted to tell her mother that she’d finally met the man of her dreams. And then she learnt the truth.

The food was getting cold. Mira had been sitting by the window, watching the fireflies in the garden. Kamala looked at her and wondered if she could make her happy again. Her little girl had always been unsure of happiness, almost guilty to embrace it. She couldn’t see her defeated. The sad little figure reminded her of someone long dead.

That evening they sat in the courtyard, watching the crows create a ruckus over the bowl of rice mom had placed outside.

Mira wanted to scream, but no words would come out.

Mother asked if she’d be staying for long.

“I don’t know, ma.”

And then, she could hold back no longer. She told her how she’d found about his betrayal. He’d used her ruthlessly, and she’d believed in him. It had been all lies. When she found out that he was married, he’d coolly shrugged off the whole matter and told her that it wasn’t a big deal. It had all been one clever business proposition.

“Everything I worked for, ma, everything’s gone. I took pride in my work, and believed him when he said that he’d be by my side. I’ve lost everything I believed in. He betrayed me. I was such a fool. Never realized that he was using me to gain his own ends. He’s killed my spirit, ma! I don’t know if I can trust again.”

Kamala held the girl close and deliberated on it for a while.

“Remember that summer when we first came home?”

Mira looked up, and tried to remember. It had been so long ago. She tried listening to what mother wanted to stay. Her mind kept wandering.

“You were angry that we had to shift here, and I didn’t know how to tell you that we had no other place to go.”

“Do you miss him, ma?”

She smiled at the question, and said, “Not really.”

“Your father was a good man. The best father you could ask for.”

“And was he a good husband?”

She knew that the answer was going to affect her, somehow she knew.

“Your father never loved me, Mira. And I never had the guts to end the marriage. I was ready to do anything to be with him, while he was trapped with someone he couldn’t love. He wasn’t unfaithful to me, but I do know that he loved someone else.”

So, she hadn’t been born out of love. So much for all the things she’d believed in! Mira looked at the greys in her mother’s hair, and suddenly realized that she didn’t know her mother at all. How had she lived with it for so long? All these years she’d been too busy to ask. Too caught up in herself. She felt the lump in her throat grow bigger.

She walked out into the night. She heard her mother call out, but she didn’t want to stop. She crossed the little pond beside the house and walked on into the grove. It was pitch dark. There was a rustle and she felt something brush by. Some creature. She didn’t know how long she sat there. She’d always questioned her mother’s smiles and her happiness. She’d mourned her dead father, but never once felt grateful for what she had. So, she had one parent who’d gone on and one who had stayed back. And she’d forever waited for the one who wasn’t coming back. Never looked back at the one who’d waited with arms open, always holding her safe when she fell.

That was the moment Mira realized that she wasn’t weak. Or inadequate. There was so much of positivity left in her. She’d always triumphed where everyone else had failed. She’d prevailed where others gave up. She looked back on all the moments where she’d cried in anger and frustration, and all she could remember was her mother’s smile. It had been that smile that had given her the courage to go on even when others said she’d fail. If her mother said it was possible, it was. Oh, how blind she’d been all this time! Now she knew why her mother smiled. For love isn’t always what you get from others, it’s also that which is stored in you, as an inheritance. That which you give yourself. Her mother had given her all her smiles, not because she had to, but because that was what she was. It was the same happiness that bubbled in her, that had never stopped her from giving up. She wasn’t done yet.

Kamala heaved a sigh of relief as Mira walked into the house. It was almost dawn.

“I’m sorry, Mira. You didn’t have to know. I had no right to tell you that!”

Mira looked into her silver-grey eyes that had lightened with age, and said, “You had every right to, ma!”

Kamala was surprised when Mira sat at the dining table and pointedly looked at her plate.

The aroma of freshly cooked rice filled her senses. She felt the grains under her fingers and as she took the first mouthful, burning her tongue in the process, her eyes filled with tears. She savored the first morsel and realized she’d never tasted anything better. She was crying now, crying uncontrollably as she felt her mother wipe her tears away with the tip of her saree. She heard the birds bring in the morning and looked out at the rising sun.

She had finally come home.

The Path

The rain had fogged up the windows. He wiped it and looked out. He could see the path that led to the road. This path was all he'd seen for years now. She'd walked out through this path. She'd looked back, but he hadn't been able to call out, ask her to stop.

He'd been too sure of himself. Confident that he'd conquer the whole world. Power had made him a despot. And he'd hurt the peope who'd loved him the most. She'd loved him but he'd thrown it back in her face.

Everything had changed with the accident. He was just an invalid. He could hear them say, that he deserved what had happened to him. Everyone had changed, except her. And he'd changed into a monster. He'd once made a vow to protect and cherish her, instead he punished her with his silence and refusals. He'd screamed at her and told her that he didn't need her pity. He'd urged her to get out of his life.

He'd seen her leave and had wanted to scream out. He knew, he was going to lose the only person who had ever loved him. He watched her walk out of the gate, and for the first time in years, felt truly helpless.

He'd looked into his heart and realized the truth. All the acerbic words had been a smokescreen, because he'd been scared to reveal what he felt. Scared to admit that she meant everything to him. Atleast she'd be happy, away from him. He had trained robots to take care of his needs. The rain blurred his view again and he turned the wheelchair around.

It took him a while to notice the dripping figure in the doorway. She saw him gaze at her unblinkingly and was puzzled. It came out as a cry," Mary, you're back!!! I .............missed you. I know I don't deserve you, but ...... I am glad to see you back."

Mary looked flustered at his outburst. She was used to his spiteful tantrums, not this. She said, "You're going senile, John. I'm gone for two hours and you start acting crazy."

She'd turned her back to him, but not before he noticed that her eyes were as misty as his.