In the realm of emotions, fear has a special position.
Lelin dadu’s voice triggered in Neera that same fear; except that it was still covered in suspicion. Before Neera could answer Lelin dadu she was thinking many questions. Why would he want to see her so early (when it was still dark outside) in the morning? Why did his voice sound different? He was probably awake for a while waiting for the alarm to strike. What made him so impatient?
Those questions would be answered in a few minutes.
Neera opened the door to the stiff figure of dadu, standing slightly crooked, his eyes almost completely hidden inside the circles of wrinkles.
“My child” he started. His voice sounded like the dry susurrus of unhealthy branches. But he could speak no more and stopped. Instead he drew a long breath. His eyes were trying to avoid Neera’s.
“Dadu, is something wrong? Why don’t you come in and sit?” Neera asked sensing something was wrong.
He did not enter through the door. He kept standing there for a few seconds. Then he held out a bag in his hand. A small brown bag. Neera took the bag from him and opened it.
Inside was a silver bracelet. Neera’s silver bracelet from her jewelry box that she had shown dadu the previous evening. Lelin dadu had quietly kept one piece of jewelry. Cheap silver jewelry.
Neera was stunned in disbelief. Angrily she looked at dadu, starting to feel out of control.
How could he, an old man, the village leader, the host of her brief stay, her father’s teacher, the entire village’s pride, do such a thing? Wasn’t he the only legend of the village? Wasn’t he the person people came to consult before they went to the village priest or the panchayat? Wasn’t he most revered man of the village?
Neera wanted to cry out; she wanted to shout in her inexorable anger. She was exhausted of everything that had happened in these two days. Was there anything or anyone she could trust these days when the greatest reverent was of dubious provenance?
It was something in Lelin dadu’s mostly hidden eyes that stopped Neera. She couldn’t respond to his breaking stature, standing there by the door, waiting for Neera’s reaction.He stood there as the accused stands at the trial, waiting for his punishment. His normally wrinkly face was smoothened out a bit, due to the softening effect of despair and shame. It was an image of pathos, severed a bit only by the unusualness of the crime by the unexpected culprit.
And then it struck Neera. The accused dadu could have kept his little secret to himself if he wanted. He did not need to reveal his moment of weakness. He could have continued to be the legend. The world would have continued to sing his glory.
Instead he chose to accept a black mark on his lifelong resume. In a trice he could become a culprit from a legend, but that did not stop him accepting the crime.
And then it struck Neera. That is why he is a village legend.
In the village of two-lakes everything that happens is transparent. Small-talk, ignorant-talk, bitch-talk, loud quarrels, everything happens in the open. If a young man runs away with his beautiful neighbor; he returns to the village within a few months with his pregnant neighbor (now his wife) and the villagers accept him back, although after a few punches and slaps.
Dadu after all was a villager. His life was governed by the same transparency as the lives of rest of the villagers.
Neera at last spoke to dadu, in a slow serious voice. “Dadu I have decided to forget about what happened. And you should too”.
Neera gathered her belongings from the mixed paraphernalia. She had just rejuvenated her recrudescent jovialness with a beautiful life experience. She was uplifted in spirits and humming an old tune. After packing her bags she walked down towards the pond, beside the temple.
Ducks with ugly beaks were paddling in water. Neera called Jeff’s number.
Jeff was finishing his dinner at a restaurant. He sounded tired but happy when he said “Hey I was about to call you”.
“Jeff, I just wanted to tell you something”, Neera talked calmly. “I figured it isn’t working between the two of us. We’re not compatible at all. I would rather we end it now rather than later and after many more futile fights”. “And I’m sorry I called so early and woke you up last time I called”.
Jeff sounded perplexed but not too unhappy. He was a little angry as he didn’t expect it to be so sudden.
“There is enough time”, thought Neera. She threw a pebble in the pond. One lagging duckling paddled faster away from Neera.
In an hour Neera would be headed back to Kolkata. She walked back towards the house. The temple bells started ringing.
She picked a few marigolds from the garden and stuck one in her hair.
****** The End *****
Lelin dadu’s voice triggered in Neera that same fear; except that it was still covered in suspicion. Before Neera could answer Lelin dadu she was thinking many questions. Why would he want to see her so early (when it was still dark outside) in the morning? Why did his voice sound different? He was probably awake for a while waiting for the alarm to strike. What made him so impatient?
Those questions would be answered in a few minutes.
Neera opened the door to the stiff figure of dadu, standing slightly crooked, his eyes almost completely hidden inside the circles of wrinkles.
“My child” he started. His voice sounded like the dry susurrus of unhealthy branches. But he could speak no more and stopped. Instead he drew a long breath. His eyes were trying to avoid Neera’s.
“Dadu, is something wrong? Why don’t you come in and sit?” Neera asked sensing something was wrong.
He did not enter through the door. He kept standing there for a few seconds. Then he held out a bag in his hand. A small brown bag. Neera took the bag from him and opened it.
Inside was a silver bracelet. Neera’s silver bracelet from her jewelry box that she had shown dadu the previous evening. Lelin dadu had quietly kept one piece of jewelry. Cheap silver jewelry.
Neera was stunned in disbelief. Angrily she looked at dadu, starting to feel out of control.
How could he, an old man, the village leader, the host of her brief stay, her father’s teacher, the entire village’s pride, do such a thing? Wasn’t he the only legend of the village? Wasn’t he the person people came to consult before they went to the village priest or the panchayat? Wasn’t he most revered man of the village?
Neera wanted to cry out; she wanted to shout in her inexorable anger. She was exhausted of everything that had happened in these two days. Was there anything or anyone she could trust these days when the greatest reverent was of dubious provenance?
It was something in Lelin dadu’s mostly hidden eyes that stopped Neera. She couldn’t respond to his breaking stature, standing there by the door, waiting for Neera’s reaction.He stood there as the accused stands at the trial, waiting for his punishment. His normally wrinkly face was smoothened out a bit, due to the softening effect of despair and shame. It was an image of pathos, severed a bit only by the unusualness of the crime by the unexpected culprit.
And then it struck Neera. The accused dadu could have kept his little secret to himself if he wanted. He did not need to reveal his moment of weakness. He could have continued to be the legend. The world would have continued to sing his glory.
Instead he chose to accept a black mark on his lifelong resume. In a trice he could become a culprit from a legend, but that did not stop him accepting the crime.
And then it struck Neera. That is why he is a village legend.
In the village of two-lakes everything that happens is transparent. Small-talk, ignorant-talk, bitch-talk, loud quarrels, everything happens in the open. If a young man runs away with his beautiful neighbor; he returns to the village within a few months with his pregnant neighbor (now his wife) and the villagers accept him back, although after a few punches and slaps.
Dadu after all was a villager. His life was governed by the same transparency as the lives of rest of the villagers.
Neera at last spoke to dadu, in a slow serious voice. “Dadu I have decided to forget about what happened. And you should too”.
Neera gathered her belongings from the mixed paraphernalia. She had just rejuvenated her recrudescent jovialness with a beautiful life experience. She was uplifted in spirits and humming an old tune. After packing her bags she walked down towards the pond, beside the temple.
Ducks with ugly beaks were paddling in water. Neera called Jeff’s number.
Jeff was finishing his dinner at a restaurant. He sounded tired but happy when he said “Hey I was about to call you”.
“Jeff, I just wanted to tell you something”, Neera talked calmly. “I figured it isn’t working between the two of us. We’re not compatible at all. I would rather we end it now rather than later and after many more futile fights”. “And I’m sorry I called so early and woke you up last time I called”.
Jeff sounded perplexed but not too unhappy. He was a little angry as he didn’t expect it to be so sudden.
“There is enough time”, thought Neera. She threw a pebble in the pond. One lagging duckling paddled faster away from Neera.
In an hour Neera would be headed back to Kolkata. She walked back towards the house. The temple bells started ringing.
She picked a few marigolds from the garden and stuck one in her hair.
****** The End *****
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