Lost and Loved

Lost and Loved

He opened his eyes as normally as any 21 year old would; groggy, discharge-full brown eyes, dried saliva in his mouth, and the sounds and colours of the last dream still replaying in his head.

Siddharth Das with no agenda and no hope. His life more miserable than he could have ever imagined, his thoughts crooked due to excessive contradictory experiences and education. With his parents separated, he lived his life alone, but comfortably (or that’s what others thought) in his cozy one-bedroom apartment in the heart of Bombay city.

It was a woman. Yes a woman he knew, the eternal untouchable that she was… his dream had gone on…she approached him, he smiled, lovably, lustfully, as she ran her finger down the centre of his forehead, routing over his nose, lips, neck and further down below.

There was a sudden rush of happiness in his head that his life was jealous of. It never wanted him to experience such joy. And so, when in the dream, it saw that Siddharth was finally experiencing joy, life yanked him out of his sleep.

He jumped up from bed…only happy to realize that this false joy and hope hadn’t lasted long. He was tired of lies and false hope, even when the truth in his life, unfailingly, brought him only sorrow and misery.
“I’d rather be truthfully sad than be falsely happy.” He would tell himself.


Siddharth shuffled out of his bed and walked into the bathroom. He saw his morning self in the mirror- droopy eyes ruffled hair (‘bedhead’ he told himself), and a dried stain of saliva along his right cheek.

He tried to imagine the source of his sadness, as his mouth let out the froth from the toothpaste. He felt the to and fro motion of the bristles of the toothbrush against his teeth and gums. He spat out the paste.

His thoughts came back to him. About a year back, this brushing routine of his would be against a different background.
He missed he morning ambient noise that was so typically his ‘home’s’. Home. Where his mother cooked chapattis, his father would playfully pull down his shorts while he brushed his teeth and sister would be running all around the house searching frantically for a book she lost because she was getting late for school.

It was all different now. His sister lived with their father, Rajiv Das, an accomplished lawyer in the Bombay High Court. His mother, Meera Das, now Meera Bose (divorcee), moved in with her spinster sister, Nalini. Meera, a Chartered Accountant by profession had but one regret in her life- her son had refused to move in with her after the divorce.
He was of the opinion that he was so used to seeing his parents together that he couldn’t imagine them separately. For him they were one being. And living with just one of them would ‘off his balance’. The whole equation in the family would be wrong. He preferred being alone.
Subconsciously, Siddharth knew that this divorce was his ticket to freedom, something which he had longed for a long time. He didn’t like the idea of his parents separating but he had come to accept very well over a short course of time….because beyond divorce and tears, his life waited for him.

It was different now. Freedom was not as lucrative as it had seemed to be. Maybe he was scared, maybe he was insecure of making his own decisions. Whatever the reason, he now wanted his parents together. So that he would at least have a family to go back to, though compromising his one bedroom apartment was not a part of his plan.
A selfish thought. But his self was all that he had to take care of in this world. His self was all that he could rule, that he could make, mould. Being selfish, he thought, was in the best interests, of himself and everyone else.


*****


It was the morning of August the Fifteenth. All four family members celebrated the Indian Independence Day separately- Siddharth, Rajiv and Meera in their respective Building Societies- ‘Co-op Housing Societies’ they were called; Riya, Sidddharth’s younger sibling in school.


*****


The court papers had broken the Das family apart. But 20 years of togetherness had engraved in each individual, the imprint of the thoughts and feelings of each other. An abstract feeling of oneness, each did feel for the other, a divine knowledge of possession and responsibility. That they didn’t know.

They had all thought they had their individual lives, they could live alone, that family was just an adjunct, an extension of their houses which they would go back to at the end of the day. Nothing more.


As the tri-colour waved in the gusty monsoon wind, every individual pair of eyes from the previous Das family looked up in sadness. Tears welled up in everyone’s eyes- Siddharth, Riya, Rajiv, Meera. They had never been so alone, so scattered, so distant and separated. They all thought and felt the same thing that moment.
Their loss of each other had reminded them of the love they had for each other.


*****

At around two p.m., the phone rang in Rajiv Das’s home. Riya was trying her hand at making chicken curry for her father. After all, she thought, she was 19 years old, a big girl now.

Rajiv said ‘Hello’ in his trademark style and was stunned to hear the voice on the other side.
A familiar voice.
There was a sudden surge of emotions in his heart which made him say, “Okay, I’ll be there. God! It’s so amazing, I was thinking of the same thing! Can’t wait to get back.”

At around 2.30 p.m. Siddharth received a call. The same Familiar Voice.

“I want to meet you.”

“I’ll be there.” Siddharth said.

By no stretch of imagination had Siddharth expected his father to receive the same afternoon call…from his mother.


*****


Rajiv knocked on Meera’s door with Riya by his side. Meera opened the door, and Rajiv was dumbstruck by what he saw- those eyes, nose, lips. He had loved them so dearly! How could he have ever hated her?

“It hadn’t been worth it! The divorce was never worth it. Never!”

They hugged with force of long lost lovers. In the fashion which Riya thought was so typically ‘Bollywood’ and would have seemed comical to her had she not been so emotional that moment. She closed the door behind her, quietly, lest she interrupt the newly bloomed love between her parents.

Siddharth walked towards the same door a few seconds later, not knowing that happiness finally lay beyond that door he was going to open.

It was a windy night. He walked towards the door, without anticipation, without expectation. What he saw then, ran a rush of emotion through his heart, his head spun in happiness and his mouth tightly sealed for want of words to express this new-found happiness.
He ran towards his family and broke down as he hugged them.
“Never again, mom, never again, dad. Never again!”