“Hello…”
“Sarika, it’s me, Deepa.” It was her neighbor and
best friend from 312.
“Hey, how are you?”
“Good,
I just called to invite your daughter to Ananya’s birthday party today at 6
in the evening.”
“Sure , I’ll send her. If you need any help
with the decorations or cooking, just let me know, ok?”, she offered.
“Thanks, but I plan to keep it low key this
year. Celebrating, just so that I keep my daughter happy and at the same time,
don’t let the tongues wag. I took her to the temple before dropping her off to
school, just like her dad always did on her birthday.”
“I understand.”
**********
Sarika was amazed at this woman’s courage and
perseverance to go on in the face of her tragedy. She remembered the day, about
a couple of months back, when she had just woken up and had been jolted from
her sleep. She had unlocked her door to get the milk and newspaper when she heard loud wailings and a lot of
hustle in the corridor. She saw her neighbor next door look grim.
“Deepa’s husband passed away after a massive
stroke today morning” she had said.
As Sarika went to pay her respects, she saw
Deepa sitting stone faced, not a tear in her eye, not a trace of emotion on her
face. And as she held Deepa’s hand in hers thinking of what she should say,
tears welled up in her own eyes. Deepa’s body shuddered uncontrollably as she
tried to hide the volcano erupting inside her. Yet, no emotion.
“It’s ok to cry, love. There’s no need to hold
yourself back.”
Deepa had looked blankly at her 10 yr old son and
5 year old daughter who sat nearby, oblivious to the happenings around. She
shook her head and bit her lips hard, trying to suppress her emotions.
Within earshot, Meghana Kumar, from 110, was
speaking to Rashmi Kulkarni from 107. “Isn’t she aggrieved by the loss of her
husband? See how she sits stone faced!”
“Kaliyug, Meghana, Kaliyug” Rashmi had
retorted and both woman had animated looks on their faces.
Sarika rose
determined to give them an earful but she felt Deepa’s hand on hers and sat
down.
“It would have been our 13 anniversary next
week”, Deepa said, still no visible emotion on her face.
*****************
A couple of weeks later, Sarika visited her
friend. She saw Deepa’s swollen red eyes as she opened the door.
” The kids are in school”, she said.” I have
the luxury of crying for some time.”
It sounded more like a paradox of emotions to
her. She held Deepa tenderly till she was drained. Deepa recounted her happier
days with her husband and the sudden attack in the morning and her children
looking upto her for support. She explained why she had held back her tears.
“Just for the children, Sarika, had I broken
down, the kids would have no one to turn to for support. It was very essential
that I look calm to them. I make sure they never see me crying.”
Sarika had kept Deepa company, after that, lending
her a shoulder to cry on whenever she wanted to unburden her grief.
**********************
Later that week, Deepa knocked at her door.
“I have an appointment with the psychiatrist;
will you look after Anu for an hour?”
“Sure, is everything ok?”
“No, Amol has turned very violent, anyone
mentions his father and he flies into a rage. He needs to be counseled. Do you
know the first thing that he asked me after we had bid goodbye to his father?
He asked, mom, will I still be able to go to school? Who will pay my school
fees?”
“He is just 10 and he is already plagued by
this fear” said Sarika empathetically.
“It took me a while to convince him that we
are ok for the moment. I had to show him his dad’s bank account statement to
make him believe that his dad had provided for us sufficiently.”
Sarika marveled at this young girl, widowed at
34, with two little children to provide for. She had the reasoning to take her
son for counseling rather than ignoring his fears.
A few sessions later Amol looked fine and had
learnt to cope with the loss of his father.
*******************
Sarika met Deepa in the parking one morning.
Deepa was readying to go somewhere.
“Hi, how are you?”
“Good. Saru, wish me luck. I am going to meet
a client. I have a degree and a short job experience in dress designing. I
worked for some time before I got married. I never imagined myself working
after marriage! I have prepared my presentation and I hope I get the offer.”
“Good luck my dear. Don’t worry about the
children, I’ll be there.”
“You are an angel, Saru. Thanks.”
As Sarika walked to the lift, her heart full
of respect for this woman who kept fighting inspite of the odds, she heard
Manjula from 302 talking to her relative in a not-so-hushed tone.
“She is the one”, she said pointing to Deepa
as she rode away on her scooty. “See she still has the bindi on her forehead.
Wonder where she’s off to wearing a nice saree and bangles.”
“Oh, this new generation has no values, I tell
you”, the other woman remarked nodding her head as if in disgust. “In our
village, a widow would have to shave her head and wear white. Wearing a bindi or bangles would be unthinkable!”
‘And
live her life in utter misery at the hands of her disgusting relatives. With no
future for her children or herself!’ thought Sarika boiling inside at the
apathy of these so called moral crusaders of the world.
****************
As Sarika readied her daughter for the party,
the intercom rang. “Mrs. Malhotra, its me, Devaki.”
“Yes Devaki..”
“Has Deepa lost it? It is not even two months
since she lost her husband, why is she celebrating? She seems to have no regard
for her husband whatsoever.”
Sarika thought she had had enough. She sent
her daughter off to the party and called up all the ladies in her apartment to
the office room for an urgent meeting. Everyone was surprised at being called
urgently, but all turned up nevertheless.
“Ladies”, she addressed the crowd,” let me
come straight to the point. There is a lot of talk about our friend Deepa and
the way she is carrying on with her life. Why the stone face, why no display of
emotion, why the bindi, why the celebrations….there are a lot of questions being asked.
But you must understand one basic thing. Grief is as individual as you are.
Some will heal fast , some will be stuck for some time. But you must respect
the person who is undergoing this difficult phase in life. There is a time when
she needs to cry and there will be a time when she is compelled to have a new life.
Should we make life difficult for her by our mindless taunts
and comments? Does she have to wear a mask of widowhood on her face to show she
is grieving? Trust me, she is in much more grief than you could possibly
imagine, but she has the guts to carry on in spite of the odds. She wants to
give her children a normal childhood and do everything her husband would have
done to ensure her kids are growing up fine.
Being alone in an empty house is not easy. There is no one to greet
you, and the chair opposite yours at the dinner table is empty. The house seems
to echo from the silence and you shed a tear as you remember that you are now
alone. So many years together, so many memories you two created together are
all you have left.
Losing a loved one changes your entire life, especially when
the loved one was also your husband and best friend. You feel completely lost and totally
uncomfortable making even minor decisions. The bed feels big and you hug the
pillows for comfort.
But something inside you tells you that you can
survive!
Let her survive.“ Sarika finished her speech and sat down looking at the crowd in disgust. She waited for questions to be raised and the moral crusaders to go up in arms against her.
To her surprise she could see most eyes filled with
tears. Almost all of them left without saying a word. She knew from the look
in their eyes that tomorrow morning would be different…..and her friend would
finally be allowed to live in peace.
**********
