Didu

She reclines on the sofa, a myriad of thoughts coursing through her mind. Innumerable worries wrinkle her brow. Foremost among them, however, are her grandsons - the two souls she loves with all her heart and soul, and both of whom are away at the present, much to her anguish. She sits with the telephone at her side. Her hearing is failing her and she is afraid lest a phone call goes unanswered. The light on the phone flashes, and shaken out of her stupor she answers the phone.

'Hello!! Who is it ?'
'Hi Didu! How are you?'

It was her grandson! A sudden flash of life lights up her face, and joy crinkles her eyes into little half-moons ensconced in a sea of crows feet. In the conversation that ensues, if one could call it that, you could hear her hanging on every word coming out of the receiver. She tries to make sure nothing escapes her faded hearing, but even if something does, her grandson patiently, lovingly repeats his words, for he enjoys it quite as much as she does. And then after a while, it is time. Loath to put the phone down, they say their goodbyes, struggling to keep the emotion out of their voices.

The day had taken on a new coat of life. She stood up and went about some of the house-hold chores with a new spring in her step. Her knees, usually the cause of so much pain, seem to bother her less and the usual cloud of melancholy had lifted. For was this not what she hoped for everyday of her mundane existence ? Was this not what would help her through a few more days of boredom and anxiety ? She knew it would, and satisfied in this knowledge, she smiled wistfully at no-one in particular.

She had never been able to reconcile herself to the fact that her grandsons had to leave their home to go to college. She would always be amazed at what she construed as a mistake on the part of her daughter - to let her sons go. She was afraid that once out of sight, it would only be a matter of time before they were forgotten altogether. Her vulnerability would drive her to tears that she would keep to herself, too proud to show her anguish. Four years had passed before she began to realise that her fears were, perhaps, unfounded. Although she could not communicate with her grandsons as often as she would like, the occasional phone call would assuage her fears. Her grandsons had not forgotten her, and she thanked God for that.

She comes to the end of her chores, and tired out by the effort she sits down in the balcony of her flat to catch her breath, and enjoy the sunshine on a slightly chilly afternoon. She enjoys the refreshing warmth on her face, and is soon drifting off to sleep, dreaming of the days gone by ...

Nostalgia

The strains of music float through the air as I wonder where the past four-and-a-half years have gone. It seems only yesterday that I had taken my first unsure steps down Scholars' Avenue awed by the presence that was the Indian Institute of Technology. And now, a million new friendships and innumerable memorable moments later, here I am on the threshold of graduation. Reminds me of the old song I was taught in school:

Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing,
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago ...

A few more months and we will all be going our separate ways. A new beginning, a new world, and hopefully new friends, in lives forever altered. There are days when I look upon this positively, with enthusiasm and energy, as around the next corner lies challenges and thrills that, so far, we have only had occasional glimpses of. And yet there are invariably times when I experience a certain tightness in the chest - an inexplicable heartache. I find myself wishing that perhaps by some miracle we could start over - that perhaps even a few of the fleeting moments of happiness came to life again, drenching us anew with sheer heady excitement. Crushing, cruel reason barges in just then and slams the door of my imagination, bringing an abrupt end to my reverie, leaving nothing but a dull sadness in its wake.

The lines of a well-known song comes to mind just then ....

I was sitting on the edge of the bed,
Staring at the headlines on the paper,
It said 'Looking for Gene Kelly',
I guess he won't be singing in the rain,
You can take away all my heroes,
Can't you take away my pain ?

Can anyone ?