Each Floor With a Different Story - II

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My maid Asha often tells me about the old lady staying in the first floor. Asha would designate her as a very arrogant and conceited lady, ‘She does not like speaking to anyone. I had worked there for six long months but left it because of her haughty nature.’ I thought, but whenever I see her watering the beautiful plants of her balcony, I have noticed the smile on her face. It would brighten up so visibly. And it’s evident because of the immense love she holds for these voiceless living existents. I had questioned Asha about this too. ‘Umm… I have heard from the other maids and the watchman about the tragic life she has been living. Her husband and eldest son died in an accident. The younger son stays in this city itself, but does not talk to her neither visits her. She worked at a very reputed organization and after retirement she bought this flat.  The maid who preceded me, had told me once that this lady once kept on crying for hours. She never talks to anyone. But, Didi, I had seen her staring at you many a times. Maybe she wants to talk to you.’ Asha kept on talking while I realized how lonely this lady might be from inside as well as outside. Much more than I am. At least I don’t have any reason to be lonely but she chose this loneliness herself. If she spends more time with it, it would eat her internally and one day she would leave this world anonymously. I had so many unanswered questions with me which would not be answered if I never speak to her. Those questions are not about her son or her family but is about the human relations. I wanted to know if it is so fragile. Is loneliness the only antidote for all the predicaments? Am I actually choosing this substitute to hide myself from the future enigmas?

‘And when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever, you want. What do you call it, freedom or loneliness?’ - Charles Bukowski 

I was happy to see the couple cuddling each other in the second floor of Block C. Whenever I would see them, I reminisced my past romantic relationships and that how bad few were. This couple was not married as being informed to me by the girl herself. But it did not matter to me because all I could see was, love between them. The boy, Vij, was a tattoo artist and the girlfriend, Rani, was a software engineer in a reputed company. She had bought this flat and the boy stays with her. I remember talking to her twice when accidentally because this hardly happened, I, went for the morning walks. I liked her. She had even invited me to her house but I never went. Whenever our eyes would meet, she made it a point to greet me very cheerfully. A jovial girl. I was home for last few days as I had caught viral fever but to beat my boredom, I would sit outside, at the balcony and read. I saw something unexpected. Vij was at home all these days sitting on the chair of his balcony, smoking and doing certain unfamiliar activities by rolling papers. I could not understand it but I knew it was not something usual. Asha told me, ‘This man never goes out to work. He would sit there entire day and keep on smoking.’ I understood. Now, I wanted to know if Rani knew about it or not. On the last day of my domiciliary sick leave, I saw Rani too. I could clearly make out from my balcony about the nasty fight they were having and he slapped her too. I discerned my notion about this perfect couple, was actually a mirage. I was broken. I instantly went downstairs as I saw Rani leaving the Block C in tears. I gasped as I tried to catch her pace. Finally, I caught her. 

She was sobbing and looked dilapidated, ‘he is on drugs. It’s an abusive relationship.’ She broke down on my shoulders. I stood there unmoved, unanswered and flabbergasted.

                                                                                                                         To be continued…


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