You & I

           She stood there with watery eyes glaring at the tree planted by her husband, with flowers blooming and birds singing. The joyous banter of the birds took her down memory lane reminding of the blissful times with him and how they will never come back.  As she gathered herself, her fingers squeezed the flowers in her hand, making a few petals kiss the ground. As she looked down, her lips curved into a smile of pride. She saw little fingers grabbing the petals and adorning his father's favourite spot when he was alive with love and utmost dedication. She bent down and planted a peck on the little boy's cheek. Both of them lighted a diya under the tree, decorated it with flowers, prayed to God for his soul, thanked him for each other in their lives. 

 

Kabir always had a volley of questions ready to be fired. He was a restless and inquisitive soul. He looked at Kaveri with a very curious look and questioned " Why is dad always sleeping? We come every day and decorate his favorite spot, he never says whether he likes it or not?
Kaveri, rubbed her fingers in his hair and said "My darling, he adores everything you do, he has gone to meet God to ask his blessing for you, so that you become a nice human being when you grow up". He seemed a bit confused, but still accepted the answer.

 

 

They started walking towards home with sun bidding adieu, toning down its glory and birds hurrying to rest in their abode. Kabir’s little fingers curled around Kaveri's ring finger, where once a resplendent rock reigned. It was replaced by a ring of Sun tan. 

 Most of the houses in the lane had lights on as if they beamed and gleaned with pride at the houses which were still dark. The yellow light filtering out of the curtains at the small windows with aroma of dinner being cooked, people talking, children giggling made them snug and cozy.  Have you ever wondered how people have laid down routines and rules following which so many people around the whole world must be cooking dinner at this time or eating? It’s like so many people must be taking a bite together. Also were the residents of the houses which were still dark happy about not being home, were they doing something exciting or tired and unhappy to be not home at this hour. 

At the end of the lane, was a small white house with a red door. Over the house leaned an old lemon tree which occasionally showered its blessings painting the whole backyard ripe yellow. They entered the house and Kaveri switched on the lights and sighed looking at how unkempt it looked. Kabir's was sleepy and hungry, they had some leftover pizza from the takeout yesterday, she warmed it and served for both. 

After Kabir's father passed away, both of them could just make ends meet. She worked as sales representative at a convenience store. Still, both of them found enough reasons every day to be happy. They found happiness in little things, cutting a coupon from a newspaper and getting thrilled at seeing it work at the grocery store, saving money every day to see a movie on the last day of the month.  Those little triumphs defeating fate to let them have ice cream with the saved money brought joy to their mundane lives. . . It was going to be Diwali next week. She wanted to buy a new dress for Kabir but could not save enough money. She was still short. Pondering over all possible ways to get the money, making plans in her head, she dozed off.

 

It was Monday today and Kabir was packing books for school, as he slid is notebook in the bag, he thought how everyone else's notebooks had a waterproof cover. His notebook was always the odd one out. When the teacher got the pile of corrected notebooks from the staffroom, he could spot his from a distance. It was covered with brown paper and some cellophane wrap, his mom had saved from some packaging, sometimes even from her saarees. Those had "Vimal saarees written". She would fold it underneath, so it was not visible on the notebook cover. 

He was always embarrassed with his notebooks, but being a kind, considerate four-year-old, he never complained to his mother. 

Kaveri packed sandwiches for lunch. She always saved newspapers or some other papers which were waste and used them to wrap lunch for both of them. She tore a page from an old diary kept for this purpose and wrapped sandwiches for both of them.  One of her poems once she was so proud about, got tarnished by the humidity, sauce from the sandwich. 

 

Kabir went to school, lunch hour happened. One of his classmates who was new to school, forgot lunch at home. He waited for it to be sent from home, but it didn’t come. So Kabir being a empathetic classmate,  shared one of his sandwiches with him. He reluctantly offered him hoping he would refuse. But he accepted. It was wrapped in his mother's poem. He felt little embarrassed as all other children's lunches beamed wrapped in silver foil, but his sandwich was dull, with grease oozing making the white paper appear grey. The words written in black ink seem to have accepted their fate of the grey clouds of butter engulfing them.  It was already late and his friend started devouring the sandwich, but bell rang for recess to be over. He shoved the half-eaten sandwich in the front pocket of his bag and forgot about it until he reached home.

 

 

Week went by. It was Sunday.  They had a favorite fruit chaat vendor in the market down the lane. They would walk to the market to save the rickshaw money and would buy chaat with the money saved. Being a four-year-old Kabir would first complain as to why they had to walk so much but as they walked and the stall came near, the colorful fruits arranged neatly with a dhupbatti perched on a watermelon, Kabir's eyes would beame with glee. The fruit stall vendor also recognized the mother son duo and even knew their names.  This would be the highlight of the day. 

 

They would pick up the free newspaper from the chaat wala and look for any coupons. As she picked the newspaper and started turning pages, suddenly something caught her eye, some familiar words danced in front of her and made her dizzy. She rubbed her eyes and tried to look again. She sat down on the bench beside the stall.  She read it aloud to herself "In you I found Solace". That was the title of the poem she had written long time back and discarded. How did it get printed here?  On Sundays there was a special column for poetry from budding poets of the week. She had always read it and wished her poems would get a place there some day. There used to be a small prize money as well for the person whose poem was selected. First thought which crossed her mind was, she could buy a new dress for Kabir for Diwali she thought. Was she dreaming?

 

She called the newspaper's office to find out how her poem made way into the column. 

Apparently Kabir's classmate, with whom he had shared the sandwich, his mother was an editor at the same newspaper. While unpacking his bag, she had come across the half-eaten sandwich. The paper in which the sandwich was wrapped caught her eye. She loved the grease smeared words written on it.  Once drenched in the smell of bread and vegetables, those words had the wheel of fortune turn in their favor. The smell of a freshly printed newspaper gave a new life to them and its poetess. 

 

Their Diwali was shinier and brighter. She bought a new dress for Kabir with the money. Kabir had already got his mother a Diwali gift. His act of kindness got her creation, a place in the coveted newspaper column. Both of them became the reason for each other's smiles. That’s how the ship sailed past the tumultuous waves in the ocean of life for both of them.