The Stubborn Window of Reminiscences

                                      THE STUBBORN WINDOW OF REMINISCENCES 
                                                                                                 

After so many years, compelled by the insistence of my heart among the responsibilities and struggles of life, whenever I opened the window of my past, I found the ten year old Raman standing at the same turning, surrounded by the dark clouds of his miseries caused by his own near and dear ones. The same curve where Raman was left startled and life pulled his ears to take him along the tumultuous ways.
That evening I was doing my homework, sitting on the bed of the grandmother. She was knitting the pullover for my school uniform, straining her old eyes and tired fingers. Sita had gone to play with her friends, leaving her homework incomplete. Suddenly, the sound of my father's bicycle was followed by Sita's voice," Daddy has come!"
"Grandma, how come father returned early from shop today?"
The grandmother remained silent. Father had stepped into the room. He sat by me and began to caress my hair.
"Raman, haven't you finished your homework yet?"
"Pa, a lot more is left".
"Raman, tell your father  that you got the highest marks in all the subjects in your class."
"Really, mother? My son will bring me honor one day. Your headmaster had come to the shop. He was telling that you stood first both in English and Hindi. Next year, I will send you to the Army School."
"Mother, the cards have been printed".
"Eh! Raman...Sita, go and play outside".
"Grandma, a little homework is left ".
"Do it later. I have to talk to your father".
"Son, only two minutes."
Picking up my books, I was thinking what should be so important that the grandmother and father could not discuss in front of the children. Nothing such has happened. There ought to be something. The house seems to be restless. For the last some days he had been seeing the grandmother sitting with some people, on his return from school. Last Monday, some persons had accompanied his father from their shop. Raman and Sita had to attend the shop for two hours. On their return, the grandmother had offered them sweets as if something auspicious had taken place.
I came out and sat on grandma's stool. Sita had again gone out to play with her friends. Radha was with her. Radha looked at me and asked Sita,"What's happened to Raman, today?"    Sita shrugged her shoulders. Radha is the only one who calls Raman by his full name. She studies in my class. While playing with Sita, she missed her step.
"What Radha? If you don't want to play, you can go."
I could not help laughing. Sita was annoyed. Meanwhile, father called us inside.
"Come on, both of you get dressed. We are going out. First we will go to the Central market and do some shopping, and then I would take you to a restaurant for your favorite food."
We jumped with joy. Sita requested the grandmother to accompany them, "Come, grandma, it would be fun".
"No, my child, I can't walk for long."
"You always make excuses. We don't have mother and you never go with us."
My father and grandmother exchanged glances, and then she said," God will grant your wish".
"Sita, don't insist. How can four of us ride one bicycle?
"Pa, my home-work?"
"Finish it when we come back".
For all his financial problems, father spent lavishly that day. We bought toys, clothes, chocolates and many other things. We went to Novelty restaurant and enjoyed a nice meal.
The father had suddenly gone so quiet as if something had struck within his mind. After the death of our mother, I had remained close to my father. I shared his solitude, agony and struggle, without saying anything. Even at the time of cremation of my mother's body, I was with my father in the cremation ground, near the river. My mother's untimely death had made me excessively emotional. I could easily read my father's mind by merely looking at his face. Today, I knew, something was troubling him.
Sita was busy combing her doll's hair. I had kept my toys on one side and folding my arms on the table copied my father's posture. It took fairly long for our order to be served in the restaurant.
"Raman," my father's voice sounded to be coming from a long distance.
"Yes, pa?"
He pulled a card out of his pocket and kept it on table in front of me.
"The marriage is on coming Sunday."
"Whose, father?"Sita was delighted.
Meanwhile, I had read the invitation card with my father's name, our address and an unknown name on it. I would not have believed if my father had not told by himself.
"Not much of a marriage, merely a formal ceremony to bring your new mother home. Then there is a party".
I don't know what passed through Sita's mind, but I was shocked. New mother? How can a new name be our mother? Our mother was mother. How can a new mother come? I saw the melting ice-cream in front of me.
We came back home, and I felt Sita, two year younger to me, had suddenly become mature. She had kept her doll with other toys. She covered her face with a sheet and went to sleep in grandma's bed. I understood the mystery of the new bed in the house, and why grandma had been trying to force me to go to my bed alone. She brought milk for us but we declined. I don't know when two tears began to roll down when I remembered the tales of the step-mothers and children. The grandma used to tell us those stories. I wept for a long time and went to sleep.
I woke up late next morning, and I missed the school that day. Sita had already gone.
At the time of breakfast, the grandma tried to convince me," Look, Raman, your father is very lonely. He needs somebody to care for him. I am alive today but I won't be here for long. Then who will look after your father?"
Granma's every word raised thousands of questions. At that time Raman was unable to realize how a middle aged man, in spite of having his mother and children with him, feels lonely. Our grandmother had also become a widow when she was young. Had she been looking for a partner too? Our father had no step-father. Then why he was bringing a step-mother for his children? Raman was unable to understand the customs of the society which stop a young widow from marrying again but allow a young widower to get married again. He was unable to understand that man is helpless but woman is a complete power in herself. Today he understood why his grandma's every word had become a divine word for him.
My reverie was broken suddenly. That evening had made me more intelligent. The destined happened and the home-work began to be left incomplete. I was sent to the Army School but I had lost interest in studies. Honest, intelligent, clever Raman was left at the curve of the road. Time passed and I left school.
Life took many turns and finally came to a standstill. Sitting at my father's shop, with heavy heart, even at the age of thirty, married, I still wish I could close that window of the past!
                                                                                                                                      Raja Sir.