The Darkness behind the Sun

-Written By Vartika Sharma Lekhak

(Reading Time: 10 min Approx)

Nita looked at her watch, today she was again going to get late for the office. In spite of trying hard every day to wake up earlier than usual, she would still run out of time. Hurriedly, she kept Raju’s lunch box and Baba’s morning dose on the dining table and rushed out.

In all these nine years she had learned well that it would hurt less if you succumb to circumstances instead of fighting them.

Some days she felt what was the use of this unfair life? Her husband, a successful doctor, but even this expertise failed to save himself from the brutal clutches of cancer. The memory of watching him disappearing bit by bit still haunted her. Those eight months she forgot everything and became his 24/7 nurse, learned to administer injections, give the sponge bath, not even caring for Raju who was just a month old. Had it not been Baba’s support she would have died with him. But perhaps taking your life requires more strength than staying alive.

‘Good morning!!’

With a startle, she was pulled back in the present.

She stared at the cheerful face of Ranjan and her face broke into a warm smile. He gave a little salute and turned back to group children from the complex those were listening to him in awe.

‘Boom Boom Boom, the grenades hit our post ……zooooooop, and a bullet just missed my left eye.’ His hands clapped with each Boom, making his narration more vivid to his young listeners. He moved his wheelchair skilfully to demonstrate how he ducked the bullets.

Ranjan had fought bravely in Cargill war. He returned with medals, but without legs. At that time his marriage was already fixed to a girl, his childhood crush. But tragedies bring sympathy, not empathy. Girl’s family broke the engagement. Never had he shown any remorse. At times Nita found herself a whining baby in comparison to him. He had an infectious charm, which would grip everyone around him

Bus-stand was crowded with office and college goers. There was not a single cheerful face among the crowd. She looked at an old man wearing the anti-pollution mask, a familiar sight nowadays. The world was not same as before. Her favourite pastimes during the travel was searching the faces of strangers and imagine their life-stories.

A woman sitting in the corner, holding the big purse tightly was perhaps thinking about the menu for the dinner. Or that man with sling bag was calculating the savings so that he could afford a car. She searched at the faces of other commuters who had escaped to the virtual world through their smartphones. The melancholy had begun to grip her again. One of these days I should also invest in these smart gadgets, she thought wistfully.

There was no sign of the bus. To distract her thoughts, she started to read the roadside hoardings.

A poster showing a young mother and a baby stood out of them, advertising healthy food for babies. It reminded her how little time she spends with Raju. And he never complains; so mature for his age. But then there is Baba to make up to that. Baba— her rock of support.

How restless he had become in the waiting room the day Raju was born. For ten hours he kept pacing up and down and stopping every doctor and nurse coming out of the labour room to ask whether the baby was born.

He was always like that, laughing and crying in her joys with her. Once, when she was a child, she had a mild fever. And Baba babysat her whole night with a thermometer in his hand to check every half an hour. He tried his best to fill the void made by the sudden and early death of her mother. She felt guilty as well as glad that he never remarried. What would she have done without him?

She reached office and headed straight to her cabin so that Boss doesn’t get time to check her.

She was so busy in covering her backlog that she forgot to make even the daily call to check on Baba. And she realized it when Sheila knocked on her table. “Don’t overwork yourself, you won’t get any medal for this” she laughed. Hurriedly, she wrapped up the files. She didn’t want to miss the 2 pm bus.

Today was Saturday, she had promised Raju to take him to the swings. ‘And after that, I will cook his favourite Kashmiri Pulao with Paneer, perhaps invite Ranjan also over.’ – she said to herself. The happy thoughts filled her otherwise restless mind as she stopped on the way to buy the Basmati rice and spices. That’s why she loved half-days when she could be like a perfect mother in those fancy advertisements.

A white van was parked near the apartments. From that distance, she could only make out red cross painted over it. It was an ambulance. Something twisted in her heart. She quickened her pace. A stretcher came in sight, carried by two men in white uniform. She knew this feeling; she had felt it before. A body was lying covered by a white sheet on the stretcher.

“What happened, who is this?” her voice quivered in trepidation.

“Ranjan Saab shot himself,” said the lift-boy in an emotion choked voice.

The packets of rice slipped from her finger and the long grains scattered on the floor. Her eyes blurred with tears but she brushed them off stubbornly. She was not the type to display her private emotions in public.

She ran up the stairs, forgetting the elevator. Baba had gone to Ranjan’s house.

Raju was sleeping in the bed. With a thud she collapsed next to him, head held in her shivering hands.

Ranjan! Of all the people why he? His youthful smile flashed in her mind. Was there so much of darkness behind the Sun?

Raju stirred a bit and mumbled ‘Mamma’ in sleep. She gathered his soft body in arms and buried her face in his head. His hair smelled of baby shampoo. She kissed him gently on the head and closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks, bringing with it flood of years of bottled emotions.

-Written By Vartika Sharma Lekhak