Walls of Silence...A Short Story

Vidya was perhaps only 20 when she married Shyaam. They stood beside each other for a third of the day as people bee lined to greet them and hand them large parcels wrapped in blotchy pink and blue paper. Looking doe-eyed, sometimes she would steal a glance at him and see her life beyond. He…completely oblivious of her gesture….engaged his colleagues and friends in banter, asking them to feed themselves heartily before leaving. Their voices drowned in the backdrop of loud music played with the intention of evoking amorous feelings in the couple….sun saiba sun, pyaar ki dhun…maine tujhe chun liya…

They were the last to eat, she looked frail and weighed down with the garlands around her neck and her heavy pallu that pulled her head down with its weight. - When she had seen the saree her aunt had chosen for her nuptials, she could barely hold it and had complained about it to her mom. But the decision was overruled while she was politely explained how she would have to learn to bear the weight of much more in the days to come. Besides, a bride always needs to have her eyes to the ground and the heavy pallu over the head did a marvelous job of ensuring that. Brides who look straight up, are considered impudent remarked the aunt, teaching her the ways of the new adult world she was about to enter. - They were served food on a common dinner plate as shyaam’s sister giggled and rafiq the cameraman insisted on taking shots of them feeding each other. She could barely eat, partly out of excitement and partly fear. Lost in her thoughts she would gaze away at the morsels of food…waiting for her man to put down the spoon and before she knew it, he had put it down only that the morsels had vanished.

The morning after, she woke up in a strange, different house amongst people who were now her family. That space with two and a half rooms housed 5 adults and the two children who were yet to come. Shyaam lived with his parents and his unmarried sister, kamla. For the next 38 years, although much changed in her life, many things remained the same. Each of those 13000 odd mornings she was the first to wake up and get the house in order before rushing off to catch the 8.09 local to VT. The train ride lasted a precious 45 mins. It was in these three quarters of an hour that she could laugh out loud and share her feelings, frustrations and the warm sheera that she had sneakily made for her ‘train friends’. It is here where she could catch a breath of fresh fishy air devoid of judgments and barbs before encountering the humdrum of the day. This morning dose of laugher and later her office ‘fruit club’ would fortify her to face her supervisor, shyaam, kamla and the rest. Evening rides were less fun since it was seldom possible for the friends to co-ordinate their train timings and at the end of a long hard day patience was a rare commodity. An innocent nudge or a push could spiral into the ugliest of catfights.

In the short span of 5 waking hours that she spent at home, shyaam managed to express displeasure about something new each day. If it was not about…why she had stored mangoes in the fridge, it was about the disfigured tooth paste tube! Vidya had learnt to live with this reality and the fact that shyaam drank and smoked at home each day – traits she detested but could do nothing about. What saved her sanity was that on many days she was too tired to feel any emotion. She served her full term at the railway office where she had begun as an intern after her matriculation. Her children, married before her retirement day which she looked forward to having fulfilled her duties as an employee, mother and a wife. Though there was that faint regret of not meeting her train friends and the outside world. Retirement day was big in her life since her colleagues handed her good wishes and an Electric Oven bought with the kitty which people had contributed to generously. The supervisor spoke kind words for a change and they all feasted on hot gulab jamuns and samosas which the peon had ran across the road to fetch just in time for the party.

Post retirement…life was different to say the least. 5 hours of vidya’s existence within the confines of the four walls had stretched to 24. She could only go out to buy veggies once in a few days since the 3 floor climb to her house was not something her aching knees could take more often. Since he would see her home more, Shyaam had found more reasons each day to express his anger and frustration. When he would take an afternoon nap after reading the filmy gossipy magazines he had subscribed to, she would lie there quietly, eyes wide open, asking herself the one question that she had asked herself repeatedly since 1968…she wondered what she was doing wrong, she wondered whether she could do anything that would make him happy? Shyaam blamed her for anything and everything that would wrong….the phone line going dead to the high phone bills owing to their daughter in law’s frequent calls to her mama who lived in Delhi. Vidya could not even ignore his rants. Without anything to distract her, they would ring in her ears all day. Then one day when she went on her regular visit to the vegetable market, she could not find her way back home. She was bewildered since the vegetable vendor was addressing her by some name that seemed unfamiliar to her. Mrs Khana from next door helped her reach home that night. Shyaam lashed out at her for gallivanting in the dark and said it was unbecoming of her to do that at her age. Sometimes she would forget names and faces of people she knew. ‘Have I seen you before…I don’t remember meeting you’ …she had told shyaam’s uncle who was visiting them. Shyaam had put restrictions on her movement out of the house after the incident when she had lost her way home. She grew very quiet and sometimes would call her sister and tell her that she was feeling strange inside but by the end of the call would not remember having such a conversation. Her daughter visited her for 3 days en route their trip to lonavala. That perked her up a bit. After many days, her cheeks looked flushed again. Post he daughters visit, Vidya seemed normal. Quieter than before but not lost. One afternoon while shyaam lay in bed, she opened the door and walked out of her house. She was last spotted by one of their neighbors at VT station. He had tried to talk to her but found that she would not respond. Perhaps that she created a silence around her that no one could penetrate!
alzheimers, story

__________________________________________________________________

Update : Vidya's story does not end here...Did her dreams stop...I was asked...Here is what I had to say