With my help, he pushed the boulder to one side revealing a four feet wide gap in the wall. I had to squeeze in after Sampathlal and I found myself in a backyard, full of weeds and prickly gravel.
We climbed inside the house through a broken window, as I had not expected an open door to greet us. I was getting quite apprehensive as I climbed the stairs and the young man followed me silently. From the inside the place was pretty much the same as I recollected the glimpses in the dark from that night. It seemed pretty much messy with bat droppings strewn around and rodents drifting in and out of rooms. We negotiated layers of cobwebs while climbing the stairs; dirt that I was sure did not exist until a couple of nights ago. I sneezed a couple of times as the dust made its way into my nose. The silence in the house seemed to taunt my steps.
The moment I entered the room on the extreme left I coughed involuntarily as Sampathlal stood outside, watching me intently but refusing to step in. Sunlight filtered through the windows as I walked inside to see the same wooden cupboard. My fingers left their prints on the wood as the entire thing was covered in a sheet of grey.
I walked upto the cot, imagining the old lady lying down there breathing what could have been her last intake of oxygen, recollecting the old man watching me with expecting eyes from a corner of the room. My feet touched something as I took a step ahead. Two bowls lay at my feet, one had some liquid remaining at the bottom and the other had light lipstick marks. I froze.
A gentle wind swept into the room, sending specks of dust and a small sheet of paper flying in my face. I caught the thing and read out the medicines I had prescribed to the old lady. I rechecked the date to confirm it. Around the same time, out of the corner of my eyes I saw the five hundred-rupee note along with the visiting card stuck behind held in its place at the foot of the cot.
I read out my own name from the visiting card, hoping it was someone else, almost willing for a plausible explanation. For some reason, I moved towards the old cupboard and opened it slowly, ignoring the creaking sound. And there in front of me, lay a small jewelery box that had once contained the gold earrings that were so exquisitely crafted, almost like they were from a bygone era.
“Sometimes the hardest journeys are the ones that begin with little hope. But we need to take them anyway.” ¯ Richard Finney
The Long Weekend
Shikha was bored. She had nothing to do. Sachin, her husband of three years had been away for almost a week on an official trip and was expected to be back by evening. She had recently finished a major project in her office and had no work on her hands. Under normal circumstances, leaving office at the stroke of five and reaching home early would have been a bonus but it was not much fun coming back to an empty apartment. She missed her husband and was dying to see him soon. She decided to make a couple of his favorites dishes to welcome him back. She busied herself in the kitchen when suddenly her cell-phone beeped.
' Flight delayed. Won't be able to reach home before midnight.' She groaned in disappointment as she read Sachin's text. Now she had nothing to do except wait. “It's all a part of the price we pay for this lifestyle,” she consoled herself. And by any standard, they were doing well in life. They had paid off all the installments for the luxury apartment they lived in. It was located in one of the posh localities of the city. They owned two cars, a mid-segment sedan for Sachin and a small hatchback for her use. They both had well paying jobs that demanded respect for their position. The only commodity in short supply was time, particularly family time.
“There is nothing called a free lunch,” she said aloud as she added spices in the boiling vegetables. 'Stop cribbing and do something constructive like reading a book!'she proceeded to reprimand herself. She had been an avid reader and had a secret ambition of being a writer once upon a time. She was on her way to search the bookshelf in the hall after preparing the meal when the telephone rang. She answered it after three rings.
“Hello!”
“Hi Shikha! Sanjana here.”
“Hi! Long time, no see.”
“Well, if you could come over now that would be taken
care of.”
“Right now! What is the urgency?”
“Well! My cousin Tanya has come over from Singapore. She is a
psychic and had promised to do a planchette for me. I thought you would be interested to join in.” “Planchette? Like in invoking spirits and ghosts; that is a lot of bull.”
“Shikha, the eternal skeptic! I know that you don't believe in these things. But do come over; if nothing else it will be fun.”
“I'll give it a shot, I've nothing else to do.”
“See you at my place in fifteen minutes,” Sanjana signed off.