THE JOURNEY

" I wish I could sign off, saying,

Truely yours, or perhaps only yours..

But, i am neither truely, nor anymore yours, Madhav.

Hence, I will sign off, only as, 

Seema.."

She placed the letter in the envelope, her eyes staring in the distance,  but not looking at anything. But, the resolve in them, defied the tears which had overwhelmed her the previous evening, as she placed the silver pen on her table and went  to the street below her office to post the letter.

He was too excited. Today, he was going to throw it into her face! Months of undermining would come to an end. Since morning, he had rehearsed what he had to say. In the shower, at the breakfast table, whilst coming up the elevator, it had preoccupied  his mind and he had perfected each and every sentence in his mind. He would watch the effect of his words in her eyes, and he would love to see the colour drop from her face.

But, she had phoned in off sick.

So, he was forced to tone down his words on paper.

He picked up the silver pen from his colleagues table.

" Dearest Liz,

It gives me a great pleasure to let you know, that when you walk in tomorrow into this office, you will find 6 empty desks staring at you.

Me and 5 of our team members will be working in the building 5 blocks down on the 30 floor.

By the way, the dream pipeline project also will follow us.

Yours ,

neither in thought nor in body, 

Jeet".

He felt a little sorrowful, only because, her absence had deprived him of the joy he would have had of watching the colour fade from her face.

The waiter had borrowed the silver pen from the happy looking man who was celebrating in his cafe with his 5 friends.

" Dada, 

i know , you will be unhappy to know that i am working in a cafe. But, this is only till college restarts after term break. 

I am sending 1500 rupees, please get vahini wintogeno balm.  Her knees need rest after working on the sewing machine all day long , I wish I could rub it on her legs and press them.

We have to take her to Alandi, she wishes to

have Vithoba's darshan soon. 

Both of us cried , when the doctor told us about her illness. When i come back after this term exam, we can take her to Alandi before its too late.

To my beloved Dada and Vahini,  

Who are more like my Baba and Aai ,

My namaskar,

Shyam"

He posted the letter and went back to waitering.

His fumbling fingers laid the letter near the headstone. He lit a candle and sat next to her. The stone had weathered over the years. He cleared the leaves that had dropped on it. This was his ritual every year, on their marraige anniversary, and he had not missed a single day. 

" Since the moment, you left me, the parijaat has stopped flowering.

But, I haven't stopped watering the plant. I know,  it will flower once more. I will be waiting for that day.

And will weave a garland of those flowers and place it in your hair.

Just like our good days.

I miss you my flower, David."

I must return this silver pen to that waiter, he thought to himself, as he slowly straightened himself.

The limping man liked to chew on the pen. He had played the instant lottery many times. But, apart from the odd 50 rupees that he won, Luck never shone on him.

He hesitated between 17 and 64. And finally, ticked 64. His heart always pounded as he waited. 64!!! He had pocketted 75000 rupees that evening. It must be the lucky silver pen, he had found on the platform.that afternoon.

Tonight,  he would visit the darker corners of the city..

No one noticed, how and when it happened. Perhaps, it was in the rush hour that it dropped into the pram. Or wad it the limping man who fumbled while crossing the street?

But, the toddler in the pram held it tightly in its grip.

When, the childminder, was chatting to mum outside, baby had decorated the wall with its graffiti using the silver pen.

And mum was so proud of it! 

My baby is going to be a great writer, she thought.

Looks like a lot of ugly squiggly lines,  the Childminder thought.

" Dear Madhav,

I do understand your dilemma. Perhaps,  we can start afresh. Why dont you come home next week. 

Baby has been missing his daddy.

You can see his first hand written letters on our wall.

I will make your special Hyderabadi biryaani.

Lots of love..

Seema.

The pen,

Had now completed its journey.

Realizing that,  it was only a medium. 

It had done its duty.

Without any attachment or any ambition. 

Hate, love, ambition, pride, sacrifice, greed had all been through it, in those letters.

The architect of those letters, 

however, was someone else...