He Came to Stay - 13. Chapter 13

THIRTEEN
Afraid of appearing weak, my affronted and dejected self didn’t want to look at Ishan’s face. When all the neighbors had left and the doctor, after advising him about the medicines to be administered, had set out towards his chamber, he silently walked around the bed and sat beside me on the bed. Picking up the napkin kept beside the pillow, he gently wiped off my tears which had already dried up. Perhaps their marks were still there on my cheek. I tried my level best not to show any further sign of emotions. Another bout of emotional outburst could give him the impression that I was trying to create a scene. I didn’t want him to touch me again. But he did and the inevitable happened. Being as innocent as ever, he urged, ‘please don’t cry; everything will be alright.’ How could he give me such an assurance knowing very well that it was he who was the root cause of everything? Or was he thinking that something else had happened in my life, which caused my suffering? I awaited him to bid goodbye and return to his hostel. But instead he said, ‘I’m hungry.’ I frowned. It was quite unusual for me to hear him asking me for food. I had hardly ever heard him asking me for anything. I tried but couldn’t remember of any situation in which he was hungry, and the food was not ready before him. Still, I didn’t know why, but his words sounded odd in my ears.

The maid must have prepared something for me that morning. I said, ‘go to the kitchen, there must be something to eat.’ He seemed not to be agreeable with the proposal. ‘Today I won’t take homemade food. Would you mind if I go bring lunch from a nearby restaurant?’ What happened to this guy that morning? He was giving me jolts, one after another. He was of the type of guy who wouldn’t care less about what they were eating or wearing. The time they spent in eating or wearing clothes was a sheer waste for them. I had never heard him complain about any food I offered him. If asked, he would say, ‘I’m an omnivorous being hahahahah!’ He was not expected to be at my place that morning. That was why the maid prepared lunch for me alone. That might be the reason why he insisted upon buying lunch for the both of us from a nearby restaurant. But even if that were the case, what I would, at most, expect from him was that he would go to the kitchen and search for some ready to eat food without even telling me anything. Even if there were no food at all, he would prefer fasting rather than asking me for any. Totally clueless about his behavior, and perplexed as I was, I asked him to bring my wallet kept in the back pocket of my trousers lying on the sofa. He complied and I took out a 1000 rupee note before handing it over to him. He went out immediately.

It was already twenty past one p.m. and I had a ravenous appetite for the first time in several days. I could hardly deny that his presence made me happy, though when he left for the restaurant I started contemplating the prospects of our relationship. Love teaches forgiveness; if one really loves somebody she forgives her small mistakes. The perplexed mind in its fragility caused by my prolonged illness coupled with my love towards him was telling but one truth: if he was really repentant about what he had done, I would forgive him and thing would return back to normal. I still expected that things would turn out towards an amicable solution, though given his nature I knew it was next to impossible that he would feel sorry for what he did. I had never seen him repenting on whatever he did. Nothing seemed to bear any importance worth repenting for him. Sometimes I didn’t hesitate expressing my exasperation at his lackadaisical attitude towards everything, including his future, his relationships, and all.

The sight of the huge pile of papers on my desk indicated the amount of pending work that I was supposed to finish before the PUJA (DURGA PUJA, the worshipping of goddess Durga, is the greatest festival in Bengal, which goes on for five consecutive days) recess and constantly poked my mind. Later, after Ishan had been gone for quite some time, I climbed down my bed and as I stretched out, I had a sudden fit of vertigo, which compelled me to lie down. Time seemed stood still. I didn’t know what was going to happen, not because I couldn’t foresee the near future, but because all the possibilities casted no ray of hope for me. But life had a built-in capacity to resurge even in the hardest of depression. Looking at the bleak future, I searched for a tiny sprout of hope in the debris of my seemingly meaningless existence. I looked for an excuse to invite him again in my life, forgetting all about what happened in the past. Would he bother that much for me to leave everything behind and return to me? But if he returned, how could I accept him again? If he would leave the girl at this stage, then what would happen to her, who would support her, wouldn’t she be in desperate need for support and affection? As I contemplated her situation my mind filled up with pity, and for a moment I forgot about my own plight. I could neither expect, nor desire him to leave her at this stage. Perhaps, she was more helpless than me.

I opened up a book, read through a few lines once, twice, thrice, but still couldn’t decipher the meaning and ultimately closed it. I never expected anything from Ishan. Nor did I ever expect him to have an attachment with me of any sort. He had a long way to go. I wished with all sincerity that a happy life waited for him in the future. His future should not be spoiled by the evil influence of my despondent life. Frustration was as infectious as plague. It took under its spell everybody who came in contact and lived with the person suffering from it. I thought of the days when I used to be admired by my friends for my ever euphoric nature, cutting jokes and making fun with my friends all the time. They couldn’t even imagine about organizing a picnic or a cultural meet unless I agreed to join them. I couldn’t say that I had always enjoyed their company; on many occasions they would almost compel me to accompany them by force, which more often than not would make me feel low, and perhaps, even humiliated. Still I accompanied them on every occasion that was humanly possible for me to do, all forms of excuse forgotten at a pressing request from my friends. At times, I wondered what I was doing! Did they really want my company, or did they just want the free service of the clown in me? I was not sure. But I enjoyed seeing them happy in my company for whatever reason. But everything changed so abruptly like a flash flood that it came as a bolt out of the blue giving me little chance to control the situation.

Amidst those scattered thoughts I found one persistent feeling lurking behind my packed down ego, which in its utter despair was dying for having its love recognized by the person it was directed at. I never expected to be loved by him, nor did I ever dreamt about having him in my life. The enormous power and grandeur of love made people feel proud of this greatest gift on earth. If they happily received this gift, then they became ready to do for it whatever sacrifice. At the same time, they tended to declare in a voice eloquent in its self-reliance that they have gotten the secret key to the greatest treasure on earth. In the heart of every creation, behind every act of generosity, in every inspiration of a work of art and conception of beauty there was but one secret, love.

No other feeling in the heart of man was so potent in its propensity to expand its abode as love. When someone would be in love, she would feel in her heart the pain and pleasure of the person she loved as if they were her own. It sought to expand itself by getting dissolved in the beloved’s heart. At the same time, the self thus expanded didn’t consider its expansion complete unless its own feelings, its pain and pleasure, were also felt in the heart of its beloved. In my case, Ishan didn’t have the maturity to understand my feelings, nor could he imagine that his cousin brother could develop such feelings towards him. Though at times he got confused at my attitude towards him, yet that didn’t bother him much. He never did try to clarify his confusion, rather he preferred to set it aside by maintaining a safe distance from me.

I had no idea how Ishan got the news of my black out that morning. Considering the fact that I expressed my desire for him not to continue with our relationship, it was very unlikely that he came to my place and at his arrival, found me lying unconscious in my bed. Perhaps he got the news from some of my neighbors. But wherever he might have gotten the news from, it was apparent that he didn’t suspect the real cause of my ailment. His simplicity could hardly allow him to delve deep in my mind to discover the root cause of it. He knew that I was not well for quite some time and he must have thought it to be nothing but a continuation of my earlier ailment. Well, he was partly right. It was indeed a recurrence of my earlier ailment. But he couldn’t understand the cause of its reappearance.

I decided to open my heart before him and let him know my feelings. As I didn’t have the courage to tell him directly, I contemplated the possible ways of conveying my message. The idea of conveying it in the form of a simple poem hatched in my mind. I took up my writing pad and wrote down a poem, which was a dialogue between God and a man, who was in a forbidden love. He accused God of doing him injustice by implanting such a forbidden love in his mind.

After finishing writing the poem, I climbed down my bed and came out of my room. Through my living room, I went to the adjacent corridor for fresh air. My legs were still feeble, shivering with each step. Suddenly, a packet on the sofa caught my attention. It was definitely not there this morning. I opened it to find out its contents--three t-shirts and a pair of trousers. I knew the clothes very well; they belonged to Ishan. He took them away along with all his other belongings when he left my place last time. The presence of these clothes on the sofa made it clear to me beyond doubt that he had somehow got the news of my black out and came prepared to stay with me. Though I had shown him the door, yet he was pretty confident that if he would ever come back to stay with me, I would hardly have the courage to refuse him. The thought of his comeback made me so content that I forgot, for the moment, its possible consequences.

Torn pieces of clouds scattered all over the sky in the late monsoon gave way to a slender beam of the sun just to cover it up again after a few moments. The same game of peek-a-boo was being played in my mind by expectation and dismay. The thin ray of hope occasionally appearing in my mind didn’t take long to fade away to make the recurring anxiety reappear. All avenues seemed to have been closed, I didn’t have much to expect from life, other than a silent recognition of my love in his eyes. I didn’t really want him to love me. He would have to try, and rightfully so, to build up his career and shouldn’t spoil it by getting involved in a relationship that had no future. Had he been involved in it, considering his mind-set it would give him nothing but a sense of guilt. Nor had I ever had the slightest hint of his having gay intentions. Still, I loved him. Yes, I fostered love for him in my heart. Nay, it had been implanted in my heart unbeknownst to me. When it was germinated, I hardly paid attention to it. I could never suspect that one day it would grow up like a stubborn disobedient foster-child to takeover its parent.

I laid down the diary, in which I wrote down the poem, open on the dining table, since I expected Ishan to keep the food on the dining table upon returning. Not being an inquisitive guy, he might overlook what was waiting there for him. In that case, I would try again during lunch. I could also directly ask him to read my latest poem. But I didn’t want to go for the last option. For that would make things look odd. I never asked him to read my poems. Now, if all of a sudden I would request him to read this particular poem, things would likely take an ugly turn.

I didn’t know why I was so eager to take that dangerous move. I was going to get nothing out of it other than further getting the already strained relationship complicated. Could it be my suicidal tendency that was compelling me to take such a dangerous move? I was wondering how he would react after coming to know about it? Perhaps, he would avoid me. Obviously, I should not be bothered about that, since I myself had cut almost all relations with him! But what if he would start to hate this cousin brother after knowing the truth? At least he loved me a lot, which I could feel in my heart in all his silence. I couldn’t afford to lose that little bit of brotherly love, which, being the only ray of hope to my deserted aimless self, kept me alive.

A little later, Ishan returned with huge carry bags containing lunch-packets. As I opened the door, he looked at me keenly and asked, ‘how are you feeling now dada?’
--I am a bit well. What is there for lunch today?
--It’s a secret.
He came in, kept the packets on the table, and went off to the toilet without looking at my diary. Perhaps, he noticed it, but seldom was he curious about my work. On happier days, I used to read out a few of my funny rhymes and he used to listen to me while he laid his head on my lap. Sometimes I recited serious pieces, but on most of such occasions, I found him snoring at the end. Once in a blue moon, he would pick up my diary and exclaim, ‘your new poem! Wow!’ then browsing through it very hurriedly he would say, ‘hmm nice!’ I doubt if he understood them at all, probably appreciated my work just to please me. But I would be pleased indeed. Any word of appreciation from him was the greatest reward I could dream of. The very fact the he paid attention to my work used to give me never-ending pleasure.

As I was vacillating in my mind whether or not to give him the hint, he reentered with three dishes and placed them on the table one by one. I expressed my surprise, ‘who else is going to come?’ ‘Have patience! Soon you will come to know’ he chuckled. Comprehending he was not in a mood to disclose his secret, I preferred to remain silent. ‘You’re just like a child, can’t take care of yourself. You need somebody to control, and if needed, rebuke you.’ I was wondering what he wanted to convey! It is not uncommon in India that the wife of a younger brother would rebuke her elderly brother-in-law, if they lived as a family. Had he gotten married? Nothing was unexpected from him. I noticed him chuckling along since he returned with the lunch. Perhaps he was the type of guy who could smile and cut jokes even when his girlfriend were four months pregnant. I was baffled as to what gave him so much fun! Did he get married? If so, then it could explain his unusual behavior. But how could he get married, when he himself was not independent? ‘Would anybody please tell me what’s going on here?’ I exasperated. He silently replied with a chortle, which was enough to strike me with grudge up to the palate of my head. I stood up to leave the place immediately, but at the sight of my diary lying open before me I controlled my anger and sat down again. Ishan seemed to have a single agendum in mind and was hardly interested in poetry. Still, I contemplated the possible ways of turning his attention to the diary. ‘Would you put this diary on my writing desk please?’ I asked. To my utter disappointment, he didn’t seem to pay much heed to what I was saying, nor did he show any effort of honoring my request. My nerves were grating with anger at his obstinacy. I pushed my seat back and was about to leave when I saw Diya entering.

I looked at Ishan questioningly as he said, ‘Diyadi come and join us for lunch. I have a wolf in my stomach!’ He understood my perplexity and explained, ‘I invited Diyadi for lunch.’ After answering her initial queries about my health, we started lunch. I didn’t forget to remove the diary from the table though.

(To be continued….)