THE PARCEL

                                                                              THE  PARCEL

We  were  having  a  house  warming  party  in  our  new  villa, a  quaint  little  bungalow  tucked  away  amidst  lush  greenery. The  hall  was  decorated with  items  of  etched  glass and illuminated with elite  lampshades  which imparted  a  warm  glow  and radiance.  A wild  wintery  wind  was  blowing  outside the homely milieu.It  was  the  month  of  January.The biting  icy  cold gust of  breeze  entered  the room as  a guest opened the sliding  glass  doors leading to the  porch.

“Oh gosh,  what a  frosty draft !!”  exclaimed the guest, as  he  hugged  his  pullover.

“Secure  the shutters .”  called his wife, shivering  with chill .“ We  will  freeze  to death.”

“Don’t  worry,” I  assured  them. “ I will set  the  thermostat higher.”

“The  forecast  says that  the  cold  wave  will  continue  for  a  few more days,” my  friend Sally announced. 

“At  this  rate,  what  would  happen  to  those  penury  stricken  families around ?”  conjectured  my husband,  shaking his  head.

The  buffet  table  was  laden with  delicacies  of different kinds and  the  bar  had a  spread  of  cocktails, wines and drinks.  Some  of  the  guests  were making  merry,  cracking  jokes, yet  others were  engaged  in  somber  conversation  about  politics, sports  and  weather. Few  others  resorted  to discussions  about  country’s  economy.  Many of  them  were  tossing  down  quickly  a measure  of  peg,  whereas  some  of  the  courteous  ladies  were  sipping their  glasses  of  wine  with a refined  poise.A  soft  instrumental  music  was  being  played  in  the  background and many  romantic  couples  swayed  to  the melodious  tunes. I  was  bustling  about  attending  guests, my  husband  was  the  busy  bartender, and my  young  son, who  was  home  for  a  holiday from  his  Engineering  college, was  welcoming  new  guests and  glancing  at  his watch  every  two  seconds.

“Expecting  someone  special, is it ?” I  casually  remarked.

“Not  exactly,” he replied back. “ Only  a  classmate who  is pursuing her  Interior decoration Course …. I  asked  her to have  a look  at  our  home to lend  us  some  tips.”  He  added  after  a brief  pause.

“We  do  have  some  exclusive  company  today.” I  observed. “When is  she  expected ?”

“Anytime,  mom.” Danny  answered. “Don’t  look  so skeptical.”

“Of  course  not. Did  I  ever  suggest  anything like  that ?  I  just  wondered……….” I  left  the  sentence  trailing.

“Mom,  don’t  ever  imply  anything  of  the  sort  to her.”retorted  back  my  son.

“ Oh  no,  I  am  conjuring  up  any thoughts.  I  know  better….. she  is  welcome  and  do show  her around .” I  assured  him.

“Thanks mom.” replied  Danny.
   
The  chimes  of the  doorbell  echoed throughout  the hall. As he opened  the  door,  he  ushered  a  dainty  girl  in  her early  twenties,  a year  or two  younger than  himself.

He  introduced her  to me  as “ Sania.” I  played  the  perfect  hostess.

As  I  watched  her, a nagging  doubt  played  in  my  mind. The  girl was quite graceful, had  pretty,soft  and delicate  features. But  as  she  was  being  introduced  to me, a bewildered  expression  crossed  her  face  swiftly, almost  as  if  she  had  a  flicker  of  recognition.  She  muttered  some  words of thanks.….and  retired to a corner silently. Although she  was  rather  composed  outwardly, I  was  mystified  at her awkwardness. I dismissed her nervousness  as  embarrassment as to the  unfamiliar surroundings.

I  ignored her as, I attended  the  other  guests. At around  midnight,  Danny  who  had  been  getting  some  drinks  from  the bar, nudged me and  took  me  aside, “Mom, have  you  seen  Sania anywhere? She seems to  have disappeared.”

I  looked  disapprovingly at  him.

“How  should  I know ? She was  sitting  at that  corner. Weren’t  you taking care of her?”

Danny  looked  baffled.  He  called  her in  her  cellphone  which  was  switched  off.  He  wandered  to the  patio outside the hall and  peered  into  the darkness as  if  she  would  appear  suddenly from  nowhere.I  searched  the  washrooms, but  she seemed  to  have vanished  like  Cinderella from  the  ballroom.

At  last  the  guests  departed  one  by  one, and  though Danny  was  cordial  with  them, he  wore  a perplexed  frown. We  retired  to  our  beds  in silence.

Early  in the  morning, as  I walked  up  to  the  graveled  path  that  led to  my garden to  relish its  beauty, I  stopped short in  my tracks, as  a  bright  coloured  parcel  wrapped  attracted  my attention.  I  picked it  up  and  started  opening  the  wrappers.  An  old  familiar  object  peeped  out  of  the  papers.  It was  an old pair of  shoes belonging  to my son  when he was a kid; It was  stuffed with  an envelope containing a letter  addressed  to  me.  Puzzled,  I  opened  the  letter  to  read.

“Dear Mrs. Dutt,
You  may have  not  recognized  me, but  I  did, as you  have  not  changed  over  the  years. I was,  a kid  when we  first  met at this  same  site. I  was  the  daughter  of  one of  the  masons who had constructed  this  bungalow,  who  lost  his lower limbs  accidently  during  the  construction.
You and  your  family  had  come to  visit the  construction site….you had removed your shoes  to take a look  inside, when I had  come along. Fascinated by  your son’s colorful  shoes I snatched  them and tried to scamper  away, when  you  caught  me  red handed. You yelled  and everyone came running;
The  guards called  my  mother  who reprimanded me severely.It  was a  cold wintery  evening. I was a barefooted urchin. My  mother  implored you to forgive  me. Your husband,moved ,immediately  handed  over  a cheque of Rs. 2500/-.
As  I returned  the  pair  of  shoes,  your  son urged  me  to keep them; you gently rebuked  me  saying, “Never  steal  things; earn  them. Keep  yourself warm wearing  these  shoes. ‘Hope  you  will have plenty  of lovely shoes  to wear in future.”

I  still remember your words,you were my  fairy godmother. The money helped  me  to get  education. I have  preserved  these lucky shoes, hoping  one  day I  will return  them  to  the rightful  owner….I  finally did.
Thank you,
yours
Sania.”

   


Dr.  Sujata  Chatterjee
(Mou  Dutta) 
21.02.2011