Revisiting A Broken House and Other Stories
Revisiting A Broken House and Other Stories
Revisiting A Broken House
Every month he writes a letter to me. Reading these letters has become part of my monthly journey to memory lanes. I seem reluctant to read them but my emotions betray my sense on each occasion. Other day, when I got this letter, I felt somewhat apprehensive about him.
“Dear Rupa
I always hear the noises of children running through the halls. As I long for you all, my whole body seems to ache, I cough my way out of bed half asleep, the memories of our childhood time mix with my morning hours, I pour some coffee and sit down, after taking the first sip I realize the children are gone, except for one who stares right at me with big and brown eyes every time.
Light flowed as water from the window pane, reflected against my old photographs and crashed against my face as I tried to watch some television. I wasn’t feeling well today.I can almost see the earth sunder, leaving me alone as an island, this breach grows everyday and I can only watch it lengthen. When the last drop of water fell from my hair I made a choice, today was the last day I would ever try to contact you again.
To say I miss you is an understatement, nostalgia has become somewhat more akin to a sickness than a feeling, everyday I delve further into a loneliness I can’t escape, and I feel like drowning, like time is corroding my body away. And also, everyday I ask myself why I am still doing this. It is all because I know you, you can come back whenever you want. We can have some tea, buy some of your favorite “jalebi”, and just chat for a while about anything you have in mind, I’ll listen.
Rupa, I fear the next time we all meet is in a funeral, where no one sheds a tear. Silence can be poisonous, I finally admit it, after so many times I said silence was perfect for reflection and tranquility, but a house submerged in silence is not comfortable at all. To be honest, I always joke to myself and say we parted ways yesterday, tomorrow I’ll have you back. I’ve heard you have a cat now, I’m glad you can finally have that pet you always wanted; even if I don’t like animals.
Every morning you whisper but during the night you scream. I hear the sound of our voices mixing, yours begging to stop and mine getting louder trying to cover your crying. That day I almost broke your arm, while you bawled your pain out. Both kids accusing gaze prolonged for what it seemed to me like an eternity, an obnoxious quietness tensed the air. Slowly, the door opened. I broke down on my knees and did my best not to cry, I promised to myself many times that you would come back in the very next minute.
Why did I not follow you? That goddamn pride made me stand still and act as if everything was okay, my legs wouldn’t move and I reassured myself that it was because I needed to look strong for once you came back. Strength is worth nothing if it protects no one, it took me a long time to understand. I always knock on the doors of Deepak’s and Hir’s rooms, but only to find them empty. I wander around this house like a ghost, and it seems alone I would pass out.”
Last night, I got up face covered in a mixture of tears and heavy sweat, blazing drops plowing the furrows of my body. The stiff muscles of my empty carcass-like figure contracted in a painful rhythm. I couldn’t breathe. Tired of this cycle of recurrent nightmares, holding my chest, possessed by a nervous excitement I stumble into the streets and try to ignore the piercing cold of the night, the dim and barely functional lights couldn’t distract me from reaching them this time, in the corner of my eyes I see- or believed to- the silhouette of my family. Breathing air feels like swallowing needles, each step involves a violent cough that breaks the silence, but my pathetic walk would never reach you. It seems, time is running out for me. I wish to see my kids before I die.
A sinner
Mohan”
When I read the last line, a sudden fear of losing Mohan hit me hard and I collapsed on to the bed. When I was myself, a dilemma overpowered me. Should I visit him or not? I knew if I won't, I might not see him again. All the memories like some movie clips started to play in my eyes. He brought to me both the happiest and most painful days of my life, I have done my best to face them and get over our history yet I fear Mohan is still living in the past.
Nevertheless, I casted aside those terrible moments just for an hour when I saw him lying on the floor the day I came to tell him to stop writing all those letters. Something arose within me, a mix of piety and feelings I thought were dead.
Were twenty years not enough for him? Would he be only satisfied after ruining us completely just like he ruined himself? I don’t know what happened to that brilliant, kind and harmless boy I fell in love with decades ago. Those eyes and gestures, the way his whole face changed into a mask of aggression and when his silence expressed itself in harm and violence- I wonder how many of our wedding china plates were lost in his tantrums.
*****
I arrived in the afternoon to the house, which I don’t know to describe as his or ours anymore, and after running into the initial sentimentality brought by the many memories the place still holds, I noticed the door wasn’t closed.
Returning to the place where almost my whole life happened got me a bit emotional, some light tears tried to run out of my eyes and a bittersweet taste in my throat prevented me from speaking and calling his name, those feelings didn’t last long, because soon I found him and my first thought was that he was dead. So my legs failed and my heart, which I believed was already tired of pain, ached once more as I held Mohan tightly in my arms.
“Don’t call the hospital...” His faint voice whispered.
“Mohan...” Facing him was even worse than I thought, the weight of twenty winding years collapsed upon my shoulders.
Mohan’s face was so pale, his hands were trembling as little knotty branches shaken by the wind. It’s ironic, the coldest body I’ve ever held is the same one who tried and hurted me so many times in heated fights, the same weight that once drowned me. I dragged him to the sofa, noticed how our living room was now a dirty mess, covered him with a wool blanket- old and uncomfortable, I remember that I sewed and he instantly took it as his favorite-, and tried to prepare some food, but because he barely had anything in the kitchen I only made some soup. I had enough time to remember many old stories, both cruel and touching. Mohan laid there, still asleep, as simply another piece of furniture I took care of.
Unable to tell if he was asleep or awake, I quieted down after realizing I wasn’t really prepared to talk to him face to face again. After that thought my movements became stiffer, a slow fear crawled upon my skin, as if a cold fire was playing with my mind, or the thorny stems of a flower wrapping around all over my body. Embarrassment came immediately to me once I realized the lack of common sense in my decisions, not only I had stormed into a house that wasn’t mine- all those fond memories and time spent mean nothing to legal terms-, to attend someone I shouldn’t be seeing, and after finding him sick and on the floor the possibility of calling a hospital didn’t even cross my mind. Maybe there was something wrong with me, and just maybe we were both equally damaged.
I abruptly left the house. But even after leaving, I was still thinking about Mohan and the possibility of giving him a second chance. And I knew I was being too generous.
*****
My best friend Pari, was the first one to call me, the very next day after I told my idea to Hir and Deepak. A little shocked, I tried to answer with composure and rationality as she interrogated me. I also wondered who told her about my idea. It had probably been Hir, just happy to share with others her hatred for Mohan, the poor girl had some history with her father she still didn’t get over with, and unlike Deepak, she refused to even think of him as family.
“Rupa, still with me?” Pari got my attention back.
“Huh? Yeah, just thinking a bit.”
“Well, Don’t let sentimentality take over your senses, you still remember how he locked you up in your own house? People like that can’t change. That lasted for weeks, Rupa, and please don’t say that he wanted you to focus on your children, we both know it was because you were getting a job and he couldn’t bear the thought of you being independent!”
“Need to go, Pari.”
“Fine, goodbye, I just hope you can make the right choice.”
I hung up and massaged my head, since last night I was having some terrible headaches that I couldn’t get rid of. Just a minute later somebody knocked on the door. I had completely forgotten that today my daughter was taking me out to a restaurant as having dinner with my family was an offer too good to reject.
“Hir!” and I hugged her, maybe tighter than I thought, as she whimpered and got away from my embrace.
“Come on, Deepak’s waiting for us, there’s no time to lose.”
We got inside Hir’s white Toyota, a pretty car that makes me wish to know how to drive. While our marriage lasted Mohan took me everywhere in his pickup truck.
“Any reason why you are feeling so giving? I mean, I’m glad but it’s also unusual.”
“I’ve worked hard to get where I am, mom, I like my job and the money it gives me, this freedom to buy a car of my own and pay for a nice dinner meal with my family. All these things wouldn’t even be possible if my father had stayed with us, alright?”
Minutes later we arrived at the cafe, still as beautiful as I remember, Deepak was already waiting for us inside, having some cake. He was a reflection of Mohan’s kindest days, strong and easygoing, Deepak was compassionate.
My son waved at me and smiled, the three of us sharing a table…, it made me feel safe, glad of them growing into good people I could trust, even after so many things happened. I only asked for a tea, even if Hir wanted me to eat more I just wasn’t hungry, she ordered a salad for both of us and closed her eyes.
“She’s doing it again.” Deepak said., brace yourself, mom. ”
“What is really a family? I mean, outside of common definitions, it’s way more than just a group of people related by blood, take for example aunt Pari, can you say she’s not a part of our family after everything she’s done for us? I believe family are those who you can trust, someone who you care about and cares about you back, connection, real interest, not the unapproachable ideals of a perfect and obedient house.”
“Hir, I value your sentiments, but...” I tried to calm her down, in vain, as she didn't stop, people on the other tables watched. It was somewhat embarrassing.
“Please, let me finish, You need to know and feel my pain some how. Mohan is not my father, a father is someone loving and kind, someone who would support me and understand what I want. Instead I faced a wall, every time I tried to express myself he pushed me back to the emotionless doll he thought I should be, an empty, pretty husk meant for nothing but to serve. If I was good at arts, he would just say: do something more useful with your hands like cleaning, if I wanted to have friends he needed to know everything about them and their whole family. If I did something wrong he would grasp my wrist and stare right at me. This whole time we’ve been on our own, well, our lives simply improved. Mom, I don’t want you to suffer again, I don’t want to hear you scream and cry in pain like before.”
Hir’s hands were slightly trembling, I think I saw a tear she quickly wiped off her face, after a deep breath she posed her hand against mine and smiled. Our order came soon after that, and she let out a groan, her coffee was cold.
I sighed, a little tired, and looked at Deepak who was staring at me with a grin, he told me to stand up and walked out of the place. I didn’t want to leave Hir alone, but curiosity got the best of me, so I followed Deepak, he was already waiting for me at his car, somewhat cheaper than Hir’s, but nonetheless, still functional.
“Where?”
“I have a surprise for you. Hir already had her turn so now I have mine, isn’t that only fair?”
“How would you explain it to your sister?” I wondered, once in his car.
“I don’t know. I was just waiting for the chance that Hir would leave us alone, knowing her, she would easily find something that wouldn’t satisfy her and complain. And I was right!” He laughed.
Deepak kept talking but I wasn’t paying attention anymore, I noticed where he was taking me. The old cinema had closed, the whole street wasn’t the same it used to be years ago, but the sun shone there still as bright. The road was a little neglected but soon Deepak stopped, having found what he was searching for. I felt incredibly nervous and emotional, and didn't even notice my hands were shaking.
“Perhaps I do want to give him a chance. Just don’t tell Hir about this, or she will kill me.”
“Why are you doing this..?” My voice broke a little.
“Just like Hir, I suffered a lot, too. But I’m more like you and less like Hir, you can’t choose family, nor can you change them, but you can help them to become someone better. Truth is there are no sides, I just want my family back.”
I got out of the car and slowly tried to regain my composure, Mohan was waiting for me outside, sitting on a bench while trying to look away and play dumb watching the clouds, but his anxious gaze always came back to me. My chest hurt, but I realized I couldn’t run away from him anymore, there was no other way but to face Mohan and make my last choice about him for the last time.
But reaching him took way longer than expected, as if time was changing its pace and we were trapped inside its whims. I couldn’t understand if this was the world’s final warning for the worst choice I’d ever take, or a last hardship to overcome in order to be happy and at peace with myself, so I just kept walking to him.
I kept walking. I realized, in a sense I was tied to Mohan, just like the moon ties itself to the sun. We were both cursed since the moment we met. I walked, or stumbled, or drifted into him.
“It’s been quite a long.” I barely managed to say.
Mohan awkwardly took my hand between his and held it tight, as if he couldn’t believe how I really was in front of him.
I sat down next to him and tried to understand him, in a different light. After a moment he asked, “So what are you going to do now?”
“Are you scared of being alone so bad?”
“Because I was stupid until now, I can admit it.
“Mohan, what do you intend to do to get us back?”
“You forgot many things at home, maybe unimportant for you, but over time they became precious to me. Photos and books, some toys and a pair of cheap earrings, I have taken good care of them. I’ve learned how to clean and cook, too.”
“I thought you were dead that day. I thought it was all over, that I’d lost a piece of myself.”
“Rupa.” he spoke as if my name was something precious. Mohan was crying.
I stood up and walked to the closed cinema, he followed quietly, and just for a second it all felt like the old times when there only was Mohan and me, again a time full of confusing emotions and a blooming excitement that brought us together.
“Do you remember this place?” Mohan asked.
“It’s not something I can easily forget. It’s a shame we actually never went in there, so much time lost… I believe you can still redeem yourself, but promise you won’t hurt me this time, Mohan.”
He smiled in response, not a single gesture in his face had changed. He got up and said,
“You know where to find me, and I’ll be waiting for you at home.”
**********
