‘Daddy’ the little one called out as she restlessly pulled my arm.
The bright day of August, it was the brightest that it would ever get. The grass looked lush and it glistened from the dew that caught the sun’s warm vivid rays. We sat together on a grey concrete bench. The view was spectacular as it has always been through the summer. During the winters, the whole place did appear gloomy. The pristine white of the snow, the dirty sober white of the building, the dried leafless trees, grass that yearned for enthusiasm, it did grow a bit gloomy in the winter. The winter was still miles away from today.
This was the first time Krishna had accompanied me. She was too little to make it there before. At 10, there was a part of me that felt it was still a little too young for her to be there. There was a part of me that felt that she was a decade already behind schedule. It was a convoluted conflict and there was no escaping it. We sat by the bench and rested while we waited. I couldn’t help but reminisce about how we had gotten there. The journey of life, the miles walked and all of it did have humble beginnings. ‘It’s going to be alright’, those were the words that had started it all.
She was not older than Krishna when we had first met. It was uncommon in those days where boys and girls wouldn’t socialize. There was nothing that stopped us and yet none of the other kids had bothered breaching that wall of imposed ideology. I wasn’t any different from the usual average. I was neither special, nor lost in the obscurity of stereotyped mundane of normalcy. I was me and I guess I fit in without much fuss. We were neither poor nor super rich back those days. We lived in a small flat in an apartment complex. They were our neighbours. We had a small park in front of the building. I liked the park. It had one big tree and the rest of the small land was covered in grass. The grass was cut short, the zone was kept litter free. The building association were obsessed with keeping the park clean. Us kids, we were the ones that haunted the grounds. We were always there. Good times.
One normal twilight, it was the first time I saw her in the park. She was sitting under the tree, under the dirty night sky whose moon looked oddly brown. So much for comparing the moon to pristine white, I wondered that night. She sat alone, all by herself , staring at the sky. It wasn’t odd that there weren’t many kids when the sun had sunk. One by one , we’d have our mothers yell out our names from the balcony. One by one, we’d disburse from the park. No one had probably called out her name. She might have been too occupied to realize that the other kids had head home. None of that seemed to matter to her. She sat alone.
There was a troubled peace on her face. I was too young to realize what all of it had meant. I approached her, without saying a word, I sat quietly beside her. Nothing sparked that moment, nothing blossomed that night. We both sat in comforting silence. The night had grown thicker by the minute. She got up. ‘Thanks’ she said and nothing else flowed from her lips that night. She walked back home.
She was back to her smiling self the next day. Of course, neither of us bothered acknowledging the tree or sitting dumb under it. We’d silently sneak a nod of acknowledgement. We rarely used words to keep in touch. every once a while, she’d sit alone by the tree. Every day, I’d watch the tree for her presence. I never let her slip my watch. The days she was there, I was right beside her. As our silence grew , our bond deepened. A deep bond , not formed of words, but from a comforting silence.
It would be a few years before the normal routine would blossom a change. Beyond the word thanks, she’d find words to explain her escape from home. The obscene violence, the abuses, the mental fracture, she’d tell me her story in a way that made no sense back then. It was only years later when I had the intelligence to connect the dots. Back then, all I could understand was that hers was not a home of peace. I didn’t know what to make of it. ‘It’s going to be aright;, I told her once after she thanked me for sitting beside her.
She smiled and made it back home. That was a smile. Etched forever in my memory. The day I saw her eyes sparkle. It could have been the reflection of the stars on her eyes, it could have been her eyes. I didn’t care to worry about the difference.
The years passed. Her solitude didn’t. We grew closer as friends. ‘Thanks’. ‘It’s going to be alight’. It made sense for us to marry. We weren’t sure if we had found love. We were sure that we had found traces of ourselves within each other. It was not an easy relationship. Her solitude made her fragile and unpredictable. Her solitude made me feel lonely at times. We had the best of times, we endured the worst of times. Through the years of us being together, we grew miserable and closer. I shared a part of her pain but I couldn’t ever understand them. I head rushed with ideas to cheer up her life. I later realized that it was the dumbest thing to do. I tried patience as a substitute. It got better and then it got a lot worse. Nothing I did could ever piece that emptiness in her forever.
We spoke of a divorce and my heart cried blood. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Heart broken, two hearts broken, she was determined to not place my life on hold. I was adamant of not letting her go. One more time, the words came to my rescue. We embraced under the tree of moon and stars. ‘It’s going to be alright’ I assured her.
The place was picked, the isolation mandated. It was a place of healing , the ones that fixed broken hearts and shattered minds. It wasn’t an asylum, that was not the name they preferred. For what it was worth, it was a prison for both of us. She was confined within it’s wall. I was confined outside it’s walls. Every month I’d pay my wife a visit. We’d share smiles most days. We’d share her tears some days. It wasn’t meant to be easy. It wasn’t easy. I don’t know what we shared. Was it love? Was it pity? I didn’t have time to ponder. I’d sit beside her by the concrete bench, just like old times, we’d sit in silence.
My heart would fill from the satisfaction of being with her. I couldn’t explain the happiness, I couldn’t quite understand it though.
A decade later, it was time to expand our world. Krishna would finally reunite with the love she brought to this world.
‘Daddy’, little Krishna restlessly pulled my arm. ‘When is mom coming to see us?’ . Her excitement couldn’t be capped.
Krishna walked in and sat between us. Her eyes swelled with tears of joy. She grabbed my hand with her right , she hugged our daughter with her left , the three of us would go on to set our world right.
Love in the time of depression!