I am going back to my village after almost three years. I don’t know why the idea of visiting my birthplace makes me so awkward. A sort of chill runs down my spine and I simply don’t feel like going there. A stranger amongst my own; as though everybody is seeking some kind of clarification from me. Taking a gander at me with doubts and talking behind me. Whenever I hear a murmur or giggling at some place, I believe I am being ridiculed. In any case, why? For what reason I am having such melancholy and snoopy emotions about the place where I spent my whole adolescence?

Things were different prior. Being the only male child, I generally had a prioritised share of things for myself including everyone’s attention. My little sister Khushi was almost five years younger to me. The entirety of my childhood spent in the village is loaded with wonderful recollections and memories worth treasuring for life. Gathering donations for the neighbourhood Puja celebration, fishing trips made to the close by rivulet  and kite flying on the vast sea shore; they are totally emblazoned forever in my mind. 

As far as I might be concerned, our ancestral  house resembled a museum of memories. Each alcove and corner of the house bore the time stamp of my existence. The enormous bookshelf behind the concrete column,  on which I used to climb despite being reproved over and over; my father’s study room overlooking the pond where nobody ventured other than me and the wide verandah past the kitchen where we played  cards and boardgames; all aspects of the house stood testimony to all the silliness I was frequently associated with. It gives me a cheerful and nostalgic feeling till date. As though time has extended to oblige and accommodate all my childhood nuances. 

I left my village soon after secondary school to pursue a future in town. In any case, my regular visits on vacations were always exciting like an expansion of my childhood. I always adored the feast arranged at old ware house cooked in the brick kiln. Nights seemed by all accounts to be too short to even to consider accommodating our interminable discussion about neighbourhood, local politics,  girls and everything under the moon. Each one of those snapshots of euphoria however vague they may be, ran down in my mind like a pre dated film show whenever I thought about my village. But,  I don’t feel the same now. Today, those beautiful thoughts are endlessly gagging me more than ever. 

It would appear like yesterday. My father (Baba) visited me in town unexpectedly after I began staying independently. He came to meet me carrying all my favourite  savouries and heart-full of expectations, yet got back void without even a parting word that day. He was silenced by his son’s shameless selfishness.

Some way or another, I was unable to control my feelings that day when Baba placed the marriage proposition before me which he vowed to his childhood friend Bhanu. I had seen Bhanu uncle’s little girl when I was around twelve years of age and she should have been around six or seven. Her delicate frame with running nose flashed before me. I didn’t recall her name but Baba said that she has finished her high school and got admission in a nearby all girls college. How is it possible that I would marry somebody who presumably had never ventured past the village perimeter? For what reason Baba did not consider taking my assent? Which era he is living in? He probably believed that I will obey him like others in the house on whom he exercises his authority. Days of me getting excited over listening to bed time stories are left a long way behind. I would not like to make any compromises in my life only for his ridiculous wishes. After all I am a state administrative cadre officer who is responsible for half of the district. I have a life before me and I need to live it by my own terms.

I was living with the belief that each one should attend to his own progress, however never bothered about the very basis of my own existence. I was so blind with pride and pomp that I could not measure the depth of Baba’s love for me.

I outrightly dismissed the proposition and conveyed my desire to marry somebody of my choice from an affluent family in the city. Baba was devastated like a sand house made without any concrete. Being a man who valued his principles more than his own life, he was unable to digest the bitterness from his only son. His feeble plea for reconsideration of the proposition only after a visit to his friends house was also obtusely turned down by me. Baba just couldn’t tolerate it any more of engaging with a selfish child like me. He however blessed me touching my head and stomped out from my house. It didn’t bother me much as I was wandering in a fantasy land of a purported opulent life. My obsession for glitter and luxury had imbued my whole soul. I slept rather calmly for couple of hours after he had left. 

After this episode, I had gone home for a week. Baba didn’t let me feel that we had any unpleasant experience between us. He was in his typical self and genuinely enquired about my wellbeing and routine aspects. He never made any mention of his friend Bhanu or my marriage. Rather, we discussed couple of propositions relating to marriage of Khushi who is presently in her final year of medicine. However, a day prior to my departure from the village, Maa asked me to visit Bhanu uncle’s place. I was unable to make out whether it was her own request or her loyalty towards Baba’s wishes. 

Bhanu uncle lived in a close by village. His house was across a rivulet which dries up in summer and comes to waist-deep in monsoons. I had gone there few times with my village friends to get fish from the riverside market and often picked up guavas from Bhanu uncle’s compound. Those were different times of my childhood days. I was unrelenting now and went out to meet my friends without paying any heed to Maa’s words. Evening was silent like the dead sky outside and night was equally blank. Early morning on the following day, I moved out quietly without any parting merriments. 

Ego has always been the basis of human nature and it suppresses logic and emotions to background. I was no exception to it.

My connection with Baba had gotten insignificant by now. Few customary wellbeing enquires we’re just the things that kept the relationship hanging between us. Maa sometimes mentioned that he was not keeping well. I didn’t give a lot of ear to her words figuring they may turn up to be some sort of emotional blackmail for me. For next couple of years I remained occupied in my work getting advancements and taking up new obligations. 

At the point when I was transferred to the state secretariat in the capital, I took the plunge to marry a girl as per my choice. Prabha was my associate’s sister. Born to an affluent political family and raised in state capital, she had all the things I was searching for. Smart, beautiful, convent educated and prepped well to conduct in high society. My parents couldn’t come for the marriage due to illness of my mother’s elder brother. I got married inside four dividers of court in the midst of my companions and subsequently threw a party to my choicest of friends in a star resort. However, Maa remembered to pass on her blessings through Nari, a clerk working in secretariat who hailed from my village. 

After the marriage we visited half of Europe for our honeymoon, yet I couldn’t plan a visit to my village with Prabha. More than a year passed just to decide when to go to our village, how to go, what to speak and all the more so how to persuade Prabha to go with me. 

I was unable to stay away from my village for long. Without seeing his only daughter in law, Baba left his mortal body for heaven. I got the terrible news from Nari. My cell phone had several miss-calls from Maa and Khushi. I probably won’t have tried to take a look at them or not bothered to get engaged in some silly talks during the all important office time. 

It was getting dark and I needed to rush without wasting any time. Obvious to her temperament, Prabha was in no mood to accompany me. In a nonchalant way she conveyed her decision to visit only for the final day ceremony after a week with her parents. I was deeply hurt non the less, yet was helpless and vulnerable of starting any arguments and  persuading her. I hurriedly packed my stuff and started off. 

It was four hours of travel. As I waded through the crowded streets of the capital and reached the highway, my entire childhood flashed like the street-side neon lights. Baba was very fond of me and always fulfilled my wishes however small or big they might be. May be he left early just to ensure that I fulfil my wish over his. I began missing him suddenly; may be for the first time. 

Life is full with decisions to take, options to avail and choices to make. We don’t act when we have options but try to react when we don’t have any in front us. Within the puzzle of options and choices, a wrong pick can offset your life forever. You may fail to remember the past, yet the past neither forgets nor pardons you. You may take cover behind the sparkles of present and run behind the oasis of future, yet the buried memories of past lurk behind the veil of reminiscence and urge if they could be altered. At some point of time, you unexpectedly wake up to the truth of time and feel how vulnerable you are before the strange ways of life. But how long you want to suffer from this agony? It’s a quixotic proposition to regret all your life for all the iffy choices or flawed decisions.

I was badly repenting for my rude behaviour and hurting Baba’s sentiments. More so, I couldn’t even got a chance to seek his forgiveness. My eyes were swelling up with tears and my throat was drying up. A sort of heaviness choked me. I stopped my car and had some tea from a roadside stall.

When I arrived at my home, Baba’s body was smeared with sandalwood paste and the cask was covered with marigold flowers. Maa was sitting nearby expressionless like a stone idol, staring straight to nowhere. Tears all over her face have dried down. With the white saree and her bare hands and forehead, she was resembling an dried conch on an empty beach. Khushi was crying profusely beating her head against the cask and was inconsolable. I quietly sat close to Maa. She just held me tight and burst in to a loud cry. I didn’t know how to react to this situation and began crying with her. As I was crying holding on to Maa, I was feeling much lighter. I would have drained every drop of my tears accumulated since ages, till somebody called me to tell that its time for the cremation and I am the one who will be lighting the pyre. 

Baba’s last customs got over smoothly. Prabha had accompanied her parents for the last rites and returned following morning. Khushi needed to return for her internship. I stayed there for a week and finished all terminal paper works like death certificate, bank account, pension nomination and so forth. Baba’s generosity and goodwill were evident all over the locality. Everything was completed without any difficulty and I was intending to leave. But, how might I disregard Maa? Despite the fact that it was a short notice for Maa to secure everything and accompany me. Maa’s sister came to her rescue and volunteered to help by staying with her. I could return with the promise that I will be back within few days to bring her with me. Soon after returning I made few attempts telephonically to persuade Maa to stay with me but couldn’t convince her. Good that she didn’t come. She was saved from harsh reality of my married life.

My wedded existence with Prabha was in rocks. She was presumptuous and consistently insulted me for my humble lineage. Her scoffing and sneering nature with ‘I-me-myself’ syndrome have transformed my fantasy into daily nightmares. I was getting squashed under her absurd demands and overbearing demeanour. It’s like truth can identify error but error can’t identify the truth. I initially thought this would pass with time, but the road appeared unending with infinite time of anguish. One day after a routine outburst she left for her folks place for good. I was in no state of mind to get her back to my life. At the same time, I didn’t have any face or fortitude to inform Maa about this and lived like a sulking calf in that government quarter. 

Four years have passed since Baba’s demise but I am unable to offer any satisfactory response to many silent questions of my own family members. But, I am sure, Maa would have fathomed out the truth of my empty life. After all, she is a mother.

I better hurry now. I checked on the gift packets and the ornament suitcase. My little sister Khushi, an ophthalmologist is getting married to her doctor colleague who is a cardiac specialist. The marriage is schedule to take place at my village after two days. The function is happening after a gap of more than four years as our household did not celebrate any occasion post Baba’s demise. Lot of friends, relatives and locals are sure to attend and certainly my presence in current situation is going to be very awkward. I wished, I could send all these items with someone and escape the humiliating eyes of everybody. Be that as it may,  I have to go and I loaded all the stuff to the back seat of the car and drove off.

I arrived at my village by early afternoon and after handing over the stuff, I went up stairs to my room which by and large kept locked in my absence. Away from the commotion below, I needed to get some rest after the long drive. I tried to close my eyes, but soon all the memories of the house started flickering in my mind. Baba’s helpless face, Maa’s meek solicitation, Khushi’s probing questions; they simply continued to glare one after other. I was taken back further in to my childhood when I was going to village fair siting on Baba’s shoulder asking him meaningless questions, pestering him to buy me toys, eating candy puff, seating in merry-go-round; everything appeared like happened just yesterday. I desperately wanted to sleep and dream those wonderful pleasant moments. Yet, I couldn’t.

My past caught up again. What have I done? I offended an individual who sacrificed his entire life just for well-being of his family. I couldn’t even consider his last wish. At least I could have spoken to him with respect he deserved for letting me become what I am today. How contented I am today by marrying somebody of my choice and living a life on my own terms? I couldn’t sleep and came downstairs. 

It was afternoon and Maa was resting in her room alone. I slowly walked inside and sat beside her. My eyes dampened and I was unable to utter a word. She opened her tired eyes slowly and looked at me assuringly. Mothers are omniscients. They can read minds of their children like an open book.  She gave a delicate squeeze to my fingers in her grasp presumably indicating that she knows it all. My eyes swelled and before the tear could come out she pulled my face towards her and kissed my temple murmuring to my ears that everything will be okay. I don’t know what was there in her voice, I felt like loosing a huge burden from my heart instantaneously. I began sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted to cry my heart out but Khushi entered the room with another girl of her age. It was very embarrassing for me to get caught crying before my younger sister and her friend. I got up and hurried out of the room. 

After that experience with Maa, I was feeling much relieved and lot alleviated. Her faint murmur in my ear was reverberating in my mind. With each passing moment I was feeling more confident and the feeling of alienation and self doubts were fading away. I got engrossed in various activities and errands for the marriage function. 

Today is the wedding day. The ceremony will take place late in night at an auspicious time indicated by the family priest. The central marriage stage is being decorated with flowers and petals. I could notice the same girl who always accompanied Khushi has assumed responsibility of the marriage stage. She looked simple and pretty. However, one could find hints of melancholy and despair in her eyes. I looked for Khushi to enquire about the girl but was unable to find her around. She presumably was occupied with her preparations for the evening. I moved closer to the stage and stood behind the girl who was arranging the flowers. She sensed my presence and straightened up looking directly into my eyes. Her gaze almost pierced through my eyes into my inner conscience. She was looking extraordinarily beautiful with a simple cotton saree and without any cosmetics. I felt uncomfortable with her stare and softly asked her name. Her eyes swelled up and her face turned red as if a volcano is about to erupt. I was certain at this point that she is Devi, daughter of Baba’s childhood friend Bhanu. I had heard from Maa that Devi is giving her company and helping in household errands after my aunt moved out. Devi’s younger  sister has been married off yet Devi preferred to remain a spinster. Here, she is standing before me like an winter tree’s unending faith that season will change. She took her eyes off me and gradually brought them down and steadied them at my feet. 

I was unable to face her for long. Her mere presence made me uncomfortable. Without any more word I slowly walked away from her to my room and fell on my bed like a log. Sometimes you feel a strange kind of tiredness realising how you are being dragged by circumstances that you have created for yourself. It appeared that I have been chasing my self-created aspirations crushing all the principles within. I am drained and tired of running behind the illusion of false happiness and deception of fake satisfaction. I am exhausted of seeking fulfilment in life out of the glitter and glamours of the society. I could feel Baba’s last touch of blessings on my head. His helpless request echoed in my ears. I could feel the heavy breath of Baba inside me. My thought process was stalled as someone called from downstairs. 

Khushi left for her in-law’s place with her better half. Maa seemed more relaxed than before probably after marrying off her daughter smoothly and seeing a reassuring change in his son. The hustle in the house calmed down soon being the bride’s home and the relatives have returned back to their homes. It was a silent evening. I needed to leave early morning following day with intention of attending office. I was arranging my things when Maa came to my room. She sat on my bed and while helping in packing  asked me how far is the university from my place. I did not understand why she asked me such irrelevant question but could sense the genuineness and sincerity behind it. I did not answer her thinking what to tell. Without waiting for my response, she said nonchalantly “I hope you will find some time to attend the convocation ceremony of Devi”.

I was looking for words to respond. But, was she expecting any answer from me? 

I looked at her from corners of my eyes silently. Maa could guess what I might be thinking and with a faint smile she left the room. A contended smile indeed. 

Probably, she guessed correctly that I have a choice to make and I will now choose to make rest of my life the best of my life.