Remembering the days

Life, I wonder how people take it as. It’s quite debatable sometimes often questionable. I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling fan; Bangalore’s heat sometimes can reach the peak of Chennai’s. The fan was spinning with a moderate speed, the ones you would see over some dramatic Hindi movies where the lead actress would stare at it thinking about her hero. But my story was not same it wasn’t about some hero or a heartbreak it was about a stranger with whom I had to meet up next month and decide whether to spend my life with him or not. Satish the guy my parents found was more like a gem to them the motive cause would be he was of our caste, presently working and based in Delhi as a successful bank manager in yes bank. I wonder how did mom and Dad found this gem sitting in Guwahati, obviously most of the credit goes to the picky relatives who would keep a snake sneering eyes over what others do, questioning why wasn’t I married yet, it felt as they would get married again instead of me if it was so possible.

I checked my phone’s screen. There was no notification from Adi or Neha, Adi and Neha were my two colleagues from my previous office in Kolkata the promotion got me shifted in Bangalore a week back, it didn’t felt the same here in craftswoman like it used to in Kolkata, craftswoman was one of the upcoming company  which dealt with art of living and happiness to women’s by teaching and preaching them with the making of pottery, flower  plantations, yoga, cooking classes, baby sitting shifts for short term employment, teaching disabled kids, awareness of woman rights and aiding them. The company was more of a NGO but termed as a company cause all the works were done professionally and properly in a good comfortable spaces which the company owned, it did got a huge rage and many woman’s did join us as these is a opportunity for most to do something they love in a country known as India. Most of the employees here would be a social activist, housewives, college going students working for pocket money; the company slowly rose nationally and globally due to the influence of social media and was well acclaimed worldwide. The owner, Miss Smita Dubey received few awards too for the company’s success. It’s been said that she was a divorce woman to a successful businessman; she started the company at her 20s as a young entrepreneur without a penny from her divorced husband. The story over the office got me inspired to meet her, but it’s been said she used to work from U.S and hardly visited India. I am very happy with my designated post, I am in teaching the disabled kids, that’s the department were we hardly have any employees to work in. As the Bangalore office needed one I was shifted gaining me a slight hike in my salary, but I loved my job, I loved each and everything about it, I have been always found of children’s, it meant something that gave solace to my soul, doing something that gives you joy is different than doing something you meant to do for a purpose, I had no purpose, no benefits, no profit, for me the moment I see those special group of children’s, I would get lost, lost with them in the world where they belong.  I remembered Akshay from my class, the 11 year old boy who has dyslexia, it was his birthday yesterday we made cake for him during the class, the happiness I got to see in his eyes were of immense joy I wished his parents lived to see his face. I recalled my hostel days, the junior girls would always come to me for emotional and mental support and I used to guide them to the best approach I had. Being a woman is not a choice it’s a boon, in my context.

I woke up from my bed, walked to the kitchen, I needed a glass of wine and sudden thoughts came up rushing my mind which made me feel unwanted, disgusted and horrible. Anger kicked my wits, I wanted to get intoxicated, complex, different, lost. Lost in a cupboard like I used to when I was a kid, hidden deep down within those piles of clothes where no one could find me. I pour the wine till the tip of my glass. My eyes went numb, I don’t know if I should blame anyone or not for my past, I didn’t know if I should beg for mercy or justice I just don’t know anything!

But why me I questioned myself? I poured another glass of wine why did it have to be me? Why mom? Why where you not there with me? And you know the worst part mom; you still don’t know about it, I wish I could say you, say you about that horrible night. Tears rolled down my cheek and gently touched my, palm, retrieving me back to my senses. I had forgotten to cook dinner it was almost 12:35 am, drenched in my thoughts. Thoughts which make me lost.

I lay my head on the soft pillow of mine it felt like a part of my grail have been cut lose, the burden on my shoulders were gone suddenly, I felt like I am inside the shell of a cocoon which embraced me which gave me peace and comfort. My drowsy eyes slowly closed, with my intoxicated mouth mumbling, ‘goodnight maa’.

The next morning my phone rang with an opening tone, the husky sunshine fell on my face giving me a sense of a better day. A smile quickly approached my lips; I checked my screen it was from

Neha

‘Hello, Neha?’

‘Hello, Neeti, good morning lazy bones,’ came her respond from the other end.

‘You bitch it’s been just a week and you already forgot us, is Bangalore so intoxicating for you’, she giggled as she continued,

‘No silly, you can’t imagine how much I missed you and Adi, I have been busy with my shifting over the new apartment so couldn’t call you up yesterday’ sorry, I wished you guys were here, the apartment seems empty without you darling.’ I responded with a zest of happiness.

Neha was one of my and an only close person I have in my life after my parents, we were more like soul sisters if it really existed, she had joined in Craftswoman just after a year of mine, Neha Sharma, the bubbly one, I still remember the first day we met, we were in the office canteen, she was timid and silent. And sat right next to me, holding a mug of coffee thinking of how to explain the old aged people the art of pottery, she chose pottery department as she loved it, she had a wonderful way with those hands gentle and perfect playing with those clay and mud crafting beautiful things which sometimes gave me immense joy seeing her work at the end of the day. Scribbling down points on the paper she looked at me,

Whispering, ‘hey, can you please help me out?’

And I having hardly any friend over the office, smiled at her, kept my coffee mug down resembling this last lonely mug of coffee over the office.

I leaned closer to whisper back, ‘yes sure but first can Neeti know this curious stranger?’ And that’s how our friendship started a year back. Thinking of those days makes a pile of good memories adore the smile it causes.

’ Neha, enquired from the other end of the phone, it took me a second to come back to my senses.

‘Yes;’ I replied

‘Where do you get lost miss?’

I smiled back, ’nowhere, Neha; ‘anyways how's Aditya?’ I enquired.

‘well Aditya, you know him he is fine, and so are us, we are planning to get married by next month, and you have to come no excuses’ she said demandingly.

‘Wow that’s good darling, Adi is lucky to have you, god bless you two, and obviously I will attend your wedding silly’ I exclaimed with joy.

‘Ok Neeti bye, need to go, Adi is calling me’

‘Bye, Neha’ the call hung up with a beeping tone, which faded slowly in silence.

Adi and Neha met each other over the Craftswoman, the best thing about Adi was his simplicity and humbleness, over one year of his relationship with Neha, he gave Neha no reason or excuse to point fingers at him, He was loyal, responsible and sincere, he respected woman a lot, maybe that’s why he was happy working in Craftswoman keeping his manly ego aside unlike other men. He teaches pottery as well alike Neha, maybe that’s how soul mate meet  suddenly out of nowhere, one day just like a box of happiness, and the magic sparks, thinking of Adi and Neha made me think of Satish, I wonder how is he? I hardly know him except his name Satish Uniyal. Sometimes, I do feel soul mates exist, but then the question arises, maybe not in this life!