Deepa

                                                   

           

                              'DEEPA' 



It was 2:30am, 8th Jan 2009 when I heard my cell-phone ringing. Somehow in aura of deep slumber I received the call. It was a woman sobbing, ‘I can’t take this anymore, it’s too painful.’ was what she said. The voice was familiar to me and it was not the first time I heard her crying. I felt vexed at that moment.

      ‘What happened, what’s wrong?’ I asked her.

      ‘Its too tough to stay alive, like this!’ There was grief and suffering in every word that she said.

      ‘Relax, and try to get some sleep.’ I replied.

      After a long silence, she said, ‘I dint sleep for years, today I will sleep.’ She disconnected the call. 



    It’s now almost 15years since  I knew Deepa, from my Siliguri days. I was in class 7 when we shifted to a new house and Deepa was our neighbor. She was in 10th standard then I guess. Can’t revoke how we became friends, all I remember is she and me sitting at her balcony at sunset and chatting for hours until I would hear my mum yell out my name. Whenever I was in any problem, the first person that would come to my mind was her. She was a guide in disguise. Her comprehension of thought was what made her gain my respect. She often told me, ‘Always marry the girl your family chooses for you. You will be happy!’ In contrary to her age, her wisdom was far stretched. 3 years passed by and our bonding grew stronger untill it was time to part. Dad was being transferred to Delhi, and so was I. Never did I hear her complain or lament on anything but on that last day, I saw the emotions in her eyes.



  While my stay in Delhi, I never contacted her but often missed her. Information technology in those days was not as glorified as what it is today.  I returned back to Siliguri, after a year on a vacation. I was excited to see her once again, hoping to surprise her I went to her house but a bigger surprise was waiting for me there. She got married. ‘Life sometimes takes pretty sharp turns’, I thought. But I was happy to know that she would be coming to meet her family in a  couple of days. Two days later in the evening I went to her house again. Can’t explain why, but I felt butterflies in my stomach as I stepped in her doorway. I rang the door bell. After a minute, I could hear footsteps approaching me. It was she, a beautiful red saree draped her torso and vermilion peeped through her hair to her forehead. She looked splendid. I always saw her in a ‘Chudidhar’, didn’t realize that attire could make such a difference.

‘Was she the same person I knew!’, I wondered for a moment.

She wore a big smile and gave me a hug. ‘I knew you will come.’ She said.

I was still in a state of daze.

We went inside her house. She looked so happy and blissful. ‘She got exactly what she deserves’, I thought.

She then told me all about her marriage, as how she got the proposal and how in a short time she tied the knot. She developed a pleasant sense of grace and dexterity in the air. Couple of hours passed by and it was time to bid adieu. Still remember her happy face as she waved me good bye.



    Back in Delhi, life took its natural course; school and tuition. Life was quite smooth and free flowing. Often remembered the transition in Deepa’s life; ‘Just few months could make such a huge variance’ I often thought. One and a half years passed rapidly and vacation came like a spring after the sweltering heat of board exams. For me vacation is still a synonym for Siliguri. There is nothing like feeling the air of your homeland on your face; the fragrance that you will find nowhere else. My stay in Siliguri was quite joyful until I came to know some thing that left me flabbergast. I happened to meet a friend who told me, that Deepa got divorced two months back and was staying with her family. I couldn’t believe what I just heard from him. I went to her house and what I saw was staggering. An emaciated, skinny looking girl half laid on a bed with a pillow behind her back.  ‘Was it her!’ she looked ailed and feverish. In a very hushed tone she said, ‘Come and sit here’; pointing to the other end of the bed.

I was so perplexed; I didn’t know how to react or what to say. 

‘How are you?’ she said with a faint smile.

‘Forget me!’ I said, ‘What’s wrong with you!’

Life had taken a complete turn around for her. The torture that she faced at her in-laws was quite evident. She was no longer the same person I last met. She was hardly eager to speak anything and smile had completely faded out. The blow that she received from life had left her immensely disturbed.

Life sometimes behaves too unsympathetic and sadist; it’s sometimes like a chocolate stuffed with bitter gourd.



      Two years passed by and I was battling to complete my graduation in time. Needless to say, I was responsible for my academic ‘excellence’; all credits to companionship and alcohol, and to make things worse I got my first cell phone. Companionship wouldn’t survive without communication and communication wouldn’t survive without cell phones. May God bless cell phones! But for me it was a complete back fire. I happened to discover Deepa’s cell number. Instead of calling her up directly I decided to play around before disclosing my real identity, so to spice up things I released a series of SMSes; the subject line of which mostly oriented around the fact that, I was her secret admirer; but she never responded to a single message. I finally had to give up the sms stuff and call her.

‘I thought some neighborhood jerk was fooling around but never expected it would be you’, she said gleefully. I sulked to be compared to a ‘neighborhood jerk’.

As expected I made the complete utilization of my cell phone in next one and a half years and at times my cell memory would be overflowing with Deepa’s messages, and almost pleading to vacate some spaces.

Truly, ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction’.And that showed on my report card too. The downward slope of my grades was more prominent now. I could clearly see my future rolling down this slope to some pothole. 

Unexpectedly, Deepa stopped talking to me; she would neither take my call nor would reply to any message; and lastly when she did, she left me completely aghast. She proposed me.

When a women, proposes a man younger to her after a marital debacle it brings out her despairing attempt to restore harmony back into her life; which is quite human I believe. Sometimes one blow from life brings out the worst in man. She was no more the person I really knew seven years back. She was like a child running rampant in darkness looking for a bit of light. Without a second thought I had to disappoint her.

Of course to be honest, couple of times I did imagine myself to be what she wanted me be, but exactly next moment I could see my parents robed in terminator suit heavily equipped with missiles and rocket launchers ready to disintegrate me. Sometimes a simple imagination could be like a 3D horror movie.



    In next couple of months my life turned too chaotic. Deepa kept stressing on her feelings; she almost flooded my cell phone with her messages and calls. It was as if her feelings intensified the more I declined; and secondly it was my last chance to elevate my grades to the proximity of decency.

She would often call me late at night and all I could hear was sobs and snivels. At times I felt pity; wanted to help her but didn’t know how. The guilt cloud in me was soaring high; I blamed myself for her misery. ‘Sometimes the best way to help someone is to leave the person alone’, I thought. My presence could never do any good to her so thought of giving my absence a chance. I finally changed my phone number, the only medium through which she could get to me. Relationships, sometimes is the freakiest thing in nature; no logic or theory governs its functionality.

I faded away from her life, presuming I dragged some of her woes along with me. Life took its predefined course, fate played its part; I somehow completed my graduation without any back-log and grades, lingered at the ‘proximity of decency’ as per the target. I thanked God and also thanked in advance for my scintillating future ahead.



    Sometimes thanking God in advance saves you from havocs. With loads of luck and an ounce of hard work, I managed to clear my second job interview. Soon I shifted to Bangalore. First job, new city, new people and decent salary; I had all the reasons to be in high spirits that too when you get all that after a horrid academic performance.

In quick succession three years passed and like all good things come to an end, I could see my ‘feel good’ hue dieing a slow death.

Life has turned too monotonous, all work and bare minimum mode of entertainment to retain the fragrance in life. One drowsy afternoon I was fidgeting around with my cell phone when I stumbled on Deepa’s number; didn’t realize then, that this moment was a spark which would be blowing things well out proportion in future.

‘How is she? Did she get married? Surely her feelings for me must have died by now!’ I suddenly felt a craving for these answers that was hopping in my head like a ping pong.

Some people have a natural affinity for troubles; they don’t have to do much to land them selves into can of worms. I guess I am one of them.

‘Should I call her?’, I thought, ‘What should I say’ .

I kept thinking for ten minutes looking at her name on my cell phone. I could almost see the Good Samaritan and the bad Samaritan in me standing out of my body and fencing among them selves.

The Good: ‘You don’t need to call her. Just delete the number right now. It’s been three years, what’s the need!’   

The Bad: ‘Come on! She has been a good friend all your life. There is absolutely no harm in enquiring whereabouts of friends and who knows she might have got married.’

The Good: ‘Don’t be stupid, just throw your mobile and go off to sleep if you have nothing to do.’

The Bad: ‘Dam you! Don’t have the guts to talk to a girl! Anyways its’ been three years, she must have changed her number.’

That was enough for me to plunge my hand into a bee hive. 

I pressed the dial key. Tring Tring..!!!

‘Oh! The number is still alive.’ I disconnected the call.

Blood in my veins was rushing in all directions; I felt the emptiness in my stomach.

‘Cool boy cool!’, I said to myself. I had no idea, why I was doing all these.

I redialed; it rang for five seconds and then, a faint voice, ‘Hello’.

‘No doubt, its’ her', I thought.

I was timid like a chicken at the slaughter house.

‘Hi’, I said in a shaky voice.

‘Ya, who is this?’ straight came the response.

‘A friend, guess who I am’, I said.

After a silence, she said, ‘who? Superman!’

‘Very close’, I continued, ‘The letter S was correct though’

‘Sir, I don’t have time for all these, If you can come up straight, I might continue the conversation or else... .’, Her voice sounded stern like a primary school teacher.

It’s embarrassing if someone bangs the phone on you and if it’s a woman by any chance it’s the heights of humility. I wouldn’t see my face in mirror for days. 

Without further delay, I said, ‘Soham’.

Then came a long silence, ‘Did she faint’ I wondered.

‘Should I really talk to you?’ She said rigidly.

‘I know, you are angry but I can explain’, I replied.

‘There is a difference in being angry and getting hurt’, her voice became suddenly calm now.

After a long speech and million ‘sorry’ and ‘Please’, I felt, I had fixed the issue. But I didn’t know why I was doing all that. What was the real need?

Sometimes time doesn’t heal anything, it makes things even worse. In last three years, life was no respite for her. She never got another marriage proposal, she had started a boutique of her own which eventually got shut down, her father had expired and her mother in sick bed. ‘When I was in real need of a friend, you were not there’, she told me.



    Deepa never expressed her feelings for me again; may be it was all dead or may be she was too scared of loosing me once again. She had become arid, fighting with her own life for over a decade. Fun and laughter had completely vaporized. ‘I am too scared about mom, she is very sick. I am all alone in this world after her.’ She often deplored. And I had no answer to that. Loneliness is a big curse, it’s hard to stay alone for a day and she did almost for ten years.

‘I live each day with a hope that, tomorrow will be better, but nothing changes; things getting worse; I cant escape, I am trapped’, she told me once. I could feel her heart bleed when she talked to me. I was just like a spectator in her life. I wish I could make a wish and change her life, but life isn’t a fairy tale.



    10 Jan 2009. I had enrolled for a newspaper, local to Siliguri which I receive a day later. On the third page I read a column that said, ‘Two women. one in mid fifties and the other in late twenties found dead in #34, 7 Netaji Road. Postmortem reports verified that former died of heart collapse while the later, Bindu(name changed) died due high intake of antibiotics resulting in death due to severe damage of internal organs. No suicide notes recovered from the scene. Police are investigating chances of foul play.’ 

The address mentioned in the news column was hers’. She spoke to me minutes before she ended her life, but I never realized her intentions. I have to live the rest of my life with guilt that I was just a spectator in her life. Maybe I could have saved her, if I had that courage.