Bhagyalakshmi talked to the others and picked up bits and pieces of the legend surrounding the bungalow. She decided not to tell anything to Swaminathan as he would have shifted out of the bungalow immediately. And she did not want that. The pathetic tale of the little boy who died a century back and who perhaps still roamed around the bungalow tugged at her heartstrings. She hoped to see him at least one more time.
One afternoon, when Swaminathan was away, she walked to the town cemetery. She bypassed the grand CSI Church with its sloping tinned roof and looked around, trying to locate the grave of James Holden. The cemetery was surprisingly well maintained, with trimmed grass and an occasional floral tribute to the departed. There were a number of graves, mostly of the British residents of the town from a bygone era. She found the graves next to each other.
'In loving memory of Susan Holden (1880 - 1905)
Beloved wife of William Holden, who died in childbirth. Rest in peace.'
She read the first inscription.
The inscription on the smaller grave next to it said. 'James Holden (1905 -1913)
He preferred to be with his mother even in death.' She plucked a wild rose from the nearby shrub and placed it on the grave. She felt an unexplained bond with the little motherless boy who had died almost a century ago.
Another month passed by. Bhagyalakshmi stayed up late at nights, while Swaminathan snored away; hoping to hear the patter of little feet but nothing happened. One particular night, Bhagyalakshmi was feeling exceptionally distraught for no particular reason. It was the boredom she guessed that was gnawing at her sanity. Sleep eluded her and in a vain bid to settle her mind, she stepped out of the bungalow and started walking around in the verandah. The half crescent moon lit up the stillness of the night throwing an eerie glow over the house and its surroundings. Suddenly, her eyes were drawn to the swing at the side of the lawn. Why was it moving back and forth even when there was no presence of the wind? Was there someone sitting on it? She strained her eyes and squinted through the half-light. A little boy was sitting on it, swinging his legs in glee.
Bhagyalakshmi found herself drawn towards the lawn. She was filled with an irresistible desire to talk to the boy. She found herself moving in his direction.
“James!” She heard herself call out. “Is it you? I want to talk to you.”
She ran on the dew-spattered grass, feeling the moisture on the soles of her bare feet. But when she reached the swing, he was gone.
The Other Side
153 There was no one there and the bare swing moved in the breeze, the creaking noise trying to tell her a story while she stood near the swing, panting a bit from her exertion.
“James! Come to me. I want to talk to you,” she shouted into the dark. Her voice echoed around but no one answered it.
She looked around wildly, hoping to find someone where there was no one. She held the moving swing in a firm grip, making it stationary once again. It was cold to touch. The metal's coldness seeped in through her fingers and she experienced a cloud of feelings envelop her. The metal seemed to heat up bit by bit under her touch. She felt a crushing wave of melancholy arise from her heart, twisting and turning in her mind and overwhelming her entire being. She felt the sobs emerge from the deep trenches of an unexplained grief as she placed her forehead on the swing and allowed the ripples to wash over her. She cried and cried, her body shaking vigorously setting the swing in motion again and the tears trickled down her cheeks, raining on the grass where they blended with the dew. Suddenly, she felt a touch on her shoulder that broke the spell.
“Bhagya, what are you doing in the lawn in the middle of the night, crying like this? Are you okay?” It was Swaminathan, who had come looking for her. She meekly allowed him to lead her back to the bed.
A day later, Swaminathan insisted on taking her to a doctor. The doctor, took a detailed history, and ran a few tests. Two hours later, he called the husband inside and smiled.
“Mr. Swaminathan, there is nothing wrong with your wife. But I have good news for you. You're soon to become a father and that explains your wife's state. Such mood swings are not uncommon in early pregnancy. I also understand that she is very lonely here. You should take better care of her and give her more company for the duration of the pregnancy,” the doctor advised.
Swaminathan was thrilled with the news. He promised to do everything his wife needed. The Goddess had finally smiled upon them. He started coming home early and tried to give her as much time and attention as possible. Months passed and Swaminathan took delight in Bhagyalakshmi's increasing girth and the stirrings of the new life taking form in her womb. He would touch her bulging tummy and rest his head over it, trying to decipher the various sounds that came from within. Bhagyalakshmi was joyous, both with her pregnancy and with her husband's solicitousness. Her insomnia disappeared and she felt a sense of well being as her pregnancy progressed. But whenever she was alone, her thoughts went back to James Holden and she wondered if she would ever see him again?