Winds of change, writes Anandita Tewari

The rain outside was pouring in torrent. The sound of the the droplets felt like a woman wearing golden anklet walking past him. The clouds roared like a father protecting his daughter from the treacherous world. The trees with their green leaves were enjoying the shower and some new births took place through the womb of the wet mud. The clouds added curtains for the moon so that they can alone admire its everlasting beauty. A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts.

“It’s 11 now, you must go to sleep” said Lata as she arranged her clothes in the cupboard. “You go I will come soon” said Mashai.

“Fine” said Lata and went into her room, closing the door. Her sudden arrival sent some thoughts like the notes of a violin into his mind. He remembered her beauty and an inevitable history.

Mashai was 15 when he first met Lata. It was at a wedding in his neighbourhood. Mashai with his round spectacles watched around and then his wandering eyes stopped at a girl wearing a white long gown with pink imprinted tulips, who walked past him. The colour of her hair was similar to that of a golden silk fibre and her smile had a different spark.

“Hello. I am Mashai.”

“Hello” said Lata. “Sorry, but I don’t know you well.”

“You will, sooner or later” said Mashai in a flirtatious tone. “By the way, may I know your name?”

“Lata Raghuvendra” she said reluctantly.

“So, are we friends now?” asked Mashai

“Yes, sure, why not” said Lata.

Mashai felt like a warrior who was already ready to boast about his recent victory. The conversation started on a cheerful note.

“Look, Mashai, you are a very generous person but unfortunately we can’t talk afterwards. My father is a reputed man of this town. And if he gets to know that I am talking to a Bengali guy,” she hesitated as she started to speak, “you can predict the consequences.”

“Okay, I don’t have any problem with it” said Mashai. His inner soul knew what he wanted to speak.

“Fine” said Lata, and reluctantly walked towards her home.

Ten years passed, Mashai visited his hometown to see his grandma, after leading a successful business in London.

“Oh, grandma, how are you?” enquired Mashai as he hugged her. He noticed the white sari that was earlier bright red or yellow in colour.

“I am fine. How is your business there?”

“It is going well” said Mashai with a fleeting smile.

“You know what Mashai, we are now part of the most reputed people’s list in this town. That Raghuvendra family lost their business. Oh! The game of gambling hit him hard.” Mashai couldn’t neglect her happiness that was discreet behind her stubborn physical frame.

“Now, I get some discounts whenever I buy the things” said his grandma.

“Where are they now?” He couldn’t resist the curiosity. His heart knew what had to be done .

“Their daughter lives alone in a one room house near the school”

He put on his coat and started towards her house. The winds blew and acted like a rock pushing him back. He stood in front of the house which was more like a hut now. He knocked twice. A woman of nearly his age opened the door and asked in a gentle voice.

“Yes, what do you want?”

“I am Mashai. You are Lata right?”

“Mashai! How are you?” asked Lata. Mashai could notice the glitter in her eyes that were waiting to change into tears.

“Listen Lata, I know about your condition” he said hastily. “Come to my place.”

“But...Mashai”.

“These could be my last words” said Mashai. She saw his face and noticed the desperation at once.

“Fine” said Lata and gave a wide smile.

“The fate has its own ways to make things up” Mashai mumbled to himself. He felt the last dazzling effect of the monsoon shower.

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