From the day she died...

I entered the room with an odd feeling. This was the room of a dead person. Someone I didn’t know. Someone I am supposed to have seen 19 years back as a 2 year old. What I saw first on entering was a painting, on the floor. It was a girl’s face.
“That’s the picture she was painting before I dragged her out to the car…”
“Oh”. Her mother. Sangeetha’s.
“So this was her…” I didn’t know how to complete that line.
“Her last painting”
I was afraid if the mother would burst into tears again. She already did twice, I didn’t want to be the reason for her to do it again. I tried to think of something else to say, but she was still on that subject.

“I don’t know if she completed it. She was at it and didn’t seem to want to stop. And it was me, it was I who told her to come back and finish it later. I …”, she gasped. I knew she was going to cry. Again
“It is not your fault Aunty”
“That’s what everyone tells me, but I know, I know it is Kiran. There is no use pretending”
“You didn’t drive her to that accident Aunty, it would have happened anyway. Sangeetha, she…” I stopped. I was going to say, she must have had her lines drawn short, that she must have been destined to live a short life. I surprised myself. I didn’t believe in fate, in destiny… not before.
“Maybe. But if I just left her to that painting, she might have been alive today.”
I didn’t have an answer to that cause I felt she was right.

Not knowing what else to say, I went closer to the painting. It was a girl’s face, half of it covered by her hair. The other visible half was a sad face. Was the girl about to cry? There was blue, red, and green – a lot of green.



“Did Sangeetha always paint?”
“No, she didn’t. Very rarely, she takes out all that junk and sits on it for hours. That’s what surprised me. I am seeing her at it after years… did my girl know…”
Aunty left it at that.
What? That she was about to die? Why would anyone paint when they knew they were going to die? I wanted to ask. But I had enough sense not to. The picture was not that brilliant. Maybe something like what I might come up with. Come to think of it, its exactly the kind I would paint. I felt a sudden desire to know more about the girl. I looked around her room. It was absolutely untidy. Just like mine. So many newspapers were lying around, so many books and clothes. The clothes must have been tried on one after the other, and she must have looked at that mirror in the corner. I imagined her doing that.

“She always left it that way. I shouted at her everyday for that”
So did my Mom. When she was there…
With a sudden idea coming to head, I peeped under the bed. Yes, there was a rusty old guitar there. What was this girl? Another me?! That took me to the books. Arthur Conan Doyle, James Joyce, Robin Cook, John Grisham, they were all there. And more. She read non fiction too. She was way above my league.
“That girl was never seen without her books. It was so embarrassing when she would insist to carry it for weddings and visiting other homes. ‘I will be bored Amma, please’ she would say. And I couldn’t look at her face and say no. Only if I looked that night…”
I didn’t know if it was cruel, but now I wanted to know what happened.
“What happened Aunty? You want to tell me?”
“Yes… I do… I was hoping someone would let me”
“Tell me”
“There is nothing much to say Kiran. We were planning to go out somewhere and when I looked, Sangi was painting this picture. And I said enough dear, come we will be late. She turned to look at me and said Amma please let me finish it. How long will it take, I asked. I don’t know Amma, said she. I told her to finish it when we were back. Oh Amma she said. But she said no more... those were her last words. She came out in ten minutes. And I remember wondering then what’s eating this girl, why does she have to look so gloomy. I dismissed it cause I thought it was leaving that stupid picture. Of course, my poor girl must have sensed danger. She didn’t want to leave us so soon. But I made her…”

Something told me it was indeed leaving that “stupid picture” that made her gloomy. I should have in her place. But I didn’t tell Aunty that.

I came back home with Sangeetha’s books and diaries that Aunty insisted I should have. I didn’t want to read her diary; I knew how personal that was. But something made me feel I had a right to. Just like I feared, yes it was turning scary now the semblance with the dead one, she wrote like me. Our stories were different but we could easily be the same single person. I tried to remember my 19-year old meeting with her. No use.

I went to her home often. Something stopped me from asking for her photos. I was scared if I might end up looking at myself. Thankfully, we were completely different there. Sangeetha was a beautiful girl, sharp nose, eyes and lips. Her only problem was her cheeks- she had none. She was too lean. “I don’t know if that girl ate at all. She would forget if someone didn’t tell her to eat”, Aunty cribbed.

For some days now, Aunty started talking like that. Like Sangeetha was still there. It sounded like a parent worrying about a child and nothing more. No one would suspect the child was no more.

I spend most of my time reading Sangeetha’s diary. I liked her so much, if only I knew her before… but like someone said, of all the words that has been said, these are the worst – if only it were so. Maybe God didn’t want 2 of his creations so exactly same living together and called one back earlier. Alright, that was a girlish thought.

Aunty too started noticing our similarities. She knew I liked lime juice more than coffee or tea, that I liked to brush each time I ate, that I slept faster on a couch than a bed. So when she said “you don’t watch TV right?”, I knew she knew I didn’t. “No Aunty, just like Sangi”. The mention of Sangeetha’s name didn’t bring tears anymore to Aunty. Not when I said it.

Sangeetha’s friends were all interesting. Aunty had invited them all one day and of course I was there too. I was afraid if Aunty would announce “Meet Kiran, Sangeetha’s new version”. Thank God she didn’t.

Divya was her best friend. “She was just like a little kid, she wouldn’t do anything until someone reminded her”, Divya said sadly. Varun, another friend added “when it came to books though, she needed no telling”.
It was really odd listening to her friends talk about her. I was beginning to know someone after her death, and really like her so much that I started worrying. I mean I didn’t feel anything when I heard her departure, but now I wish I never heard it!

“I had a dream. That I went to the Moon. What a lovely dream. It seemed so real that when I woke up I felt out of place in earth” – Sangeetha’s last diary entry. No, there was no element of intuition there. Although Aunty might have thought there is – “going away, my girl knew she was going away”

I should have known I went too much into this whole Sangeetha thing. Cause that night, she came in my dreams. I don’t remember what I saw, but I wish I didn’t. cause I woke up mourning her death. Its been over two months now. And I simply cant get her out of my head. Yet, I was digging to know more about her. Every time I went to her house, I would look for something more. I would call her friends and talk to them. In a few days, I knew the girl inside out.

It hit me one day. I was desperately trying to make her real, make her living. Trying to make believe she had only gone some place far and would come back. I thought I should consult a psychiatrist. Its been 4 months now. And the dreams, they were coming too often. Divya and Varun tried to solve it with me, yes they were my best friends now. “Just don’t think too much about it man, so you like Sangi, so what” – from Varun.
“Oh Varun, Sangi was a sweet heart, but its not good to think too much about someone who passed away” – from Divya
“People don’t you understand? I didn’t know this girl! I mean I had no idea who she was! Why am I worrying myself sick like this?” – from me!

No one could help me. I began to think what would have happened if I did meet Sangeetha. Would we have become great friends? No doubt, yes. Would we have fallen in love? And I knew…
That’s what happened now. I have fallen in love with a dead girl and it pains me to say that. I don’t know how I let it happen.

Days passed without a solution, till she came to me. Sangeetha’s mother. “I know what is worrying you beta”. I looked at her but said nothing. “Would you let me advice you?”
I nodded. “Be her”
I looked up “What?”
“You be her. I have lost her few months back. But after I met you, its like I found her again. Its like she came back to me again and called me Amma”
“But… Aunt…”
“You are alone son… like me…”
I nodded.
“And this is how Sangeetha wants to tell me she wont leave me alone. She send you to me”
I didn’t agree with that but I accepted her proposal. To be Sangeetha. To be her son.
Sangeetha I knew wouldn’t have ever wanted to leave her Mom or leave her with anyone else in her place. I knew her, I did. So becoming her was no hurdle for me. But when I die, I am going straight to her, first thing, wherever it is. I was too late here on earth but I cant afford to miss her one more time. I love you, Sangeetha.

On his wedding eve

March 30th.

Saraswathi entered the kitchen and heaved.

“Oh where is that boy?”
“Who aunty?”
“My son dear. Cant he sit home on his wedding eve!”
“Oh I saw Shyam take his bike sometime back”
“Great! And everyone is asking for him!”
“Did you try his cell phone?”
“Its off”.

Another sigh from Saraswathy before she switched herself into thinking mode.

One month ago. February 29th.

Saraswathy had waited all morning. Why was Shyam taking so long to come?
And finally when he came, why was he so silent. She had to ask.
“What did you decide?”
Shyam looked up at his Mom, but said nothing. He seemed lost in thought.
She didn’t ask anything more. She knew he didn’t need telling.
That’s when Nirmala came running to the room.

“Annaaa (brother), look at the new salwar uncle Ishwar got me”
The girl was looking at the mirror and turning around, covering her head with her duppatta and looking cutely at her brother. At 12, she was growing up fast.
“Nimmi Anna and I are talking about something serious”, Saraswathy said gently.

Shyam looked absent mindedly and smiled. Sometimes that boy was incomprehensible. What was in his mind? Was he thinking of his ailing sister? Or just looking at her?
“You look beautiful Nimmi. But I know someone else who would look cuter in that”
Nirmala looked crossed. “Who”, she said between frowning.
“Paaati (Grandma)”.
“Ioooo Annaaa”. Nirmala laughed and ran off the room shouting “Paaatiiii”

Shyam turned to look at her one long minute. Was he listening or thinking?
He suddenly looked at Saraswathy and nodded.
“Shyam?” she asked not knowing what more to ask
“Yes… I am ready Amma(Mother). You go ahead”, he said unemotionally.
Not waiting for an answer, he walked straight out of the room. What was troubling the poor boy? But Saraswathy knew without him telling. He never told her anything about it. But she knew. Wont Mothers always know? There was a girl…

Two weeks ago. February 14^th.

Anakha waited for an hour. The beach was getting crowded. 6 p.m. If Shyam was going to be any later, she would have to go back.
“Ann”. Oh he was here. She didn’t turn.
“Alright I am late. But look what got me late”
There was no reaction.

Shyam placed a bunch of violet flowers on her lap. She looked at them but didn’t say anything. Next he placed a packet of vadas. She raised her eyebrows and this time turned to look at him.
“You got me vadas (South Indian snack)!!! After all this while, vadas?!”
“I knew that would get you to look at me. Cause I needed you to look at my face when I said this. Happy Valentine’s day to the girl I knew for 10 births now”, he said, kissed her on her forehead and showered little yellow flowers over her head. As they fell to cover her round little face, she closed her eyes and smiled at the sky. Turning to him she held out her left hand with 2 fingers raised.

“Pick one”
“What for”
“Just pick”
Shyam smiled as he watched her at her favorite game she used to prove him wrong at something. He picked the index finger.
She gladly exclaimed. “You are wrong. Its 11”
“You mean 11 births? Ohhh you are making our love an old fellar!”. He frowned.

She smiled and took a brown cover. Out of it she brought a notebook and pen.
“This is for you to write for me and about me”
Next, she took out a red tie. “This is for you to wear for your interview next month”
Finally she took out a card. “This is something for you to look at every day before you go to sleep. Happy Valentine’s day Smi”.

Shyam who kept saying “wow” for each gift, looked at the card now. There was a picture of a single violet flower held behind in hands by a little girl who seemed to look at someone far away.
Inside were the few words he had heard Anakha say every now and then
“Love is at its best when it’s unselfish. To me, if I really love you, it should not matter whether we end up together or not. I should only want to see you happy, and see you grow, even if its at the cost of hiding myself away from you. And I do, really love you. Your happiness is the gift for my love.”

Shyam looked at Anakha, all smiles fading away. “Why do you always tell me about this?”
“I don’t know. These are the words my mind dictates whenever I think of you…”

February 16^th

“Didn’t Shyam call yet?”. Sicily looked concerned.
Anakha shook her head to say no.
“Maybe you should call him then”
“He specifically said don’t”
“Well maybe there is nothing much to worry, maybe it’s his interview”
“I will feel better knowing”
“I don’t know why…” Sicily stopped as the beats of Jingle Bells filled the room.

Anakha’s cell phone was flashing before her eyes and she in her hurry to answer it seemed to forgot how to do that. Sicily took charge and said “Hello”.
“Yes Shyam she is here, 1 minute”

Open-mouthed, Anakha grabbed the phone from Sicily. But she only breathed to it.
“Ann…” Shyam’s voice was not its usual happy tone
“Are you ok? Is everyone ok? Smi...”, she had atlast found her voice.
“Yes… I have to see you. There is something”
Despite herself, Anakha heaved a sigh and said “Yes. It’s a little late to get out of hostel. But I could sneak out”
“Will it be safe?”
“Yes I did that last year when you had that nasty fall from bike. Watchman Velu is a friend”
“Ok then just come outside. I will pick you up. Stay with Velu till I am there, don’t go out alone. Take Sicily too”
“Mm”

The beach was completely deserted at midnight, except for a guy far away who stared at the sea and 2 old men who lied down under a tree. Shyam seemed to have locked his attention with the old men.
“Shyam, I have to get back in an hour. Or Velu will be in trouble. So will Sicily”
“Nirmala.”
“What happened to her? Oh God anything serious? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Anakha looked genuinely worried. Shyam looked at her.
“I got an offer to save her. Money for her surgery”
“Well!!!! And that’s why you chose to show up with a gloomy face! Idiot!! We have to celebrate!”
Shyam looked at her and smiled.

“What?! Oh I know. You are worried about having a debt. Just wait darling. You are going to get through that interview with my red tie and they will take you and pay you in gold.”
“Its not that Ann”
“Then what is it? How many months have you worried yourself sick over little Nimmy’s health… and last month… you were sure you’d lose her”
“I thought I will never make the money on time. But…”
“You have an offer now! So what’s the trouble?”
“The offer comes with a price”
“What price?”
Shyam fell silent.

“Tell me how big it is and I don’t care how big. Whatever it is, we are taking it. For God’s sake Smi, we don’t have time! You know more than me if she doesn’t get that surgery done soon, it will be bad…”
“Yes…”
“And there is no way you can earn or get a loan that soon, when you don’t even own a house. I am sorry to be so blunt but I simply don’t understand you!”
Shyam looked at Anakha for one long second and whispered. “The cost they ask is you”
Tears filled his eyes.

“Me?” asked a completely confused Anakha.
“Yes. I have to lose you and marry my donator’s girl whose horoscope found a one in a million rare match with mine”
Anaka felt a thunder was about to come and heavy rain about to pour. Nothing. The world still stood peacefully. All the black clouds were inside her mind.
That night, the conversation didn’t proceed further and Anakha returned to her hostel, numb and cold. She still felt heavy rain pour.

February 20^th

Anakha and Shyam had spent one hour at the beach both looking at the waves.
Atlast she spoke. “This is my parting gift”
Just like that. They never talked one word to each other after that night at the beach, and when she talked, it was as if they were talking about it all these days and was ready to part now.
Shyam however didn’t seem to notice this was her first line in days. He took the card.

“Love would be unselfish only when you are ready to give it up for the sake of love. I give you up Smi.”
Shyam closed his eyes hard and stayed that way, clutching the card tight for an hour. He opened his eyes to find Anakha gone. Unsurprised, he took his bike and rode home.

February 28^th

The beach looked lonely at its busiest hours when exams kept the kids at home.
It seemed their last hours together were all going to be spent in silence. But then so were some of their best hours. Anakha finished reading the poems Shyam had given her, in the book she had gifted him for Valentine’s day. Only she had read his poems and only for her they were written.
The book was filled with poems he wrote, for her or about her.

The last lines said

“Thus ends this, all these words,
I send them far away
To a world I cant reach
Where stays the only one
I ever wrote them for”

It was time to go. They stood up. At last it was time to do what they had pushed away all along - look at each other. For that meant, goodbye. But now they looked and for a long time. They didn’t know how long they stood or when she had her head on his shoulders. They said no words as he took her to her hostel and rode back, not looking back, while he touched his shirt and felt its wetness.

March 17^th

Anakha finished talking on her cell phone and whispered “It was Shyam”.
Sicily turned. It was the first time she heard her tell his name after that night she went out to see him… after she cried like a baby and shouted out her sad story. Sicily had seen her cry, talk alone and sit up late at nights. She knew enough not to ask.

“What is it?” she asked now
“He cleared his interview”
“Wow that’s good”
Anakha looked at Sicily and said in a strange voice “He wore the red tie”

March 30^th.

It was the wedding eve. Anakha and Shyam sat near a tree which had seen them sit there together for over three years now.
This time silence was not in Shyam’s mind.
“Ok. Can I ask you one last time?”
Anakha looked at him, inquisitively.

Shyam didn’t wink or blink, he looked at her little round face and asked “Will you marry me?”
Anakha opened her eyes wide. She slowly took her hands out and raised 2 fingers.
Shyam said “Ann...”
But she kept them raised and he picked her middle finger.
She had tears flowing left and right, while she smiled to shake her head left and right to say no.

“You picked the wrong one again Smi”, she said as she held his hands that rested on her middle finger and pressed it to her face, crying hard, not fighting her sobs.
Shyam moved his head to rest on top of hers while tears ran to her long wavy hear and held them together for one long moment.

March 31^st

“You don’t have to come dear”
Sicily looked concerned.
“I always say about unselfish love Sicily… what is wrong with me… why cant I be happy for him… happy for poor Nimmi”
Anakha was sobbing.

“Oh dear, its cause you love him. Its easy to say love should be unselfish. But its not easy to see your love go away”
“I cant come Sicily… I cant see him… I cant…”
“Ok. Its ok. You stay here. Should I stay with you?”
“No no you go. I will be fine”
Sicily looked doubtful.
“Don’t worry I will be alive”. Anakha managed to smile.

Alone, she looked at the book of poems that he wrote for her. Looking at them, reading them, took her back to all those times she had felt that uneasiness when thinking about him. She must have known all along. She must have known she was only going to be a distant admirer… a far away friend… an unselfish lover… No this wont do. She knew her purpose. It was to care, not look away, it was to give, not hold back… She looked at her almirah and spotted the Maroon Sari he said she looked best in. She wore it, she had on her long Bindi (forehead decoration), she wore her jhumka (long Indian earring). She took with her a slip of paper she had meant to give for his birthday next month.

The wedding auditorium was packed with people. Nirmala came running to see Anakha.
“Akkaaa (Sister), you are late. Wow you look beautiful!”
“How are you feeling dear?”
“Oh great. After the surgery I was bedridden all this while. Its such a relief to finally get out. But Amma says its only for today and no running”
“You better listen to Amma then”

Anakha walked in the hall and many heads turned to watch the petite young ladyy in Maroon. She saw no one except Shyam who stood at the front and looked completely impassive. Sicily saw her walk past her, and slowly smiled to herself. Shyam spotted her walking towards him, and his bride. Anakha was smiling enchantingly and Shyam knew this was no deception. There was happiness in her whole self. She came close and talked to the bride first.

“Hi, congratulations. I am Shyam’s friend.”
“Ohh... thank you so much for coming”, said the shy bride
“Wish you a happy married life. Here is my little present”
Anakha handed the little slip of paper to the bride. She looked at it and asked innocently “What is this?”
Anakha now watched Shyam and said “Your husband is a poet dear. I have subscribed him to a magazine which will publish his poems, one a week for the next 6 months”
“Wow thanks! That’s wonderful”, said the bride looking happy.
“Its your duty to see he keeps writing”
“Yes yes”, she said absently and handed the paper to Shyam as the next guest was coming to wish the bride and groom.

Anakha knew the photographers would frown now; they shot enough of her.
She went to Shyam’s side for a brief second and said “Got ya there”, made a face at him and went away.
Shyam couldn’t get a word out before she was gone.

Sarawathy watched her son look at the small girl who had walked in so cheerfully and wondered what was it that she felt she just lost…

Shyam continued looking at the violet card that Anakha got him for their last Valentine’s day together, every single night before he slept. Until he received in post another card the next year. He opened it with his wife Indira, it was addressed to both.

“Love should be unselfish. So Shyam love your wife for me and Indira, love Shyam for me. And I will love you both for me. Hows that? Happy Valentine’s day both of you”

And despite himself, Shyam had found peace. He loved Indira, and he knew it was that unselfish love he heard so much about, which made him do it… he had picked it up from her, that girl with the little round face…

Away on the same Valentine’s day, at the beach.

Anakha sat watching the sea while a little girl had come to her with flowers
“Amma (in respect), you want flowers?”
“Yes I will buy all of them if you promise to sit with me here”
“Wow all of them? Sure Amma.”

Sitting together, the little girl sang songs to her as she smiled at her and turned to look at the sky. The girl then showered some little yellow flowers over Anakha’s head. As the flowers came down, she smiled at the sky while the little girl said “These are from heaven for you Amma. God is sending them. You know why? You are the angel of pure love”