The bells tinkled gently as I closed the door and entered.
My footsteps were muffled by the wooden floor boards! The aroma of fresh food wafted towards me as I stepped into the lobby, which led to the kitchen on one side. ‘Oh, good you’re here, Bitiya Rani,’ said Chacha ji. ‘Freshen up, food is ready!’ He lay on one of the cots right under the ceiling fan. ‘How did you know that it’s me, Chacha ji?’ I asked, and clasped his outstretched bear hand. ‘I did not ring the bell and your eyes are closed?’ ‘I just know whenever anyone enters’, he was nonchalant! ‘Afterall, you have played in my lap. What if you are older now? I know all your mannerisms!’ ‘Ok, now you tell me which colour am I wearing today?’ I played along. Without opening his eyes Chacha ji said, ‘Whatever colours you wear all look good on you! Now go have the food!’
I knew he could see, but chose not to. ‘Have you and Chachi ji had, I asked?’ ‘Oh yes, our meal time is linked to medication, so we have had. But your Didi is waiting for you.’ Thereupon he patted my arm- an indication for me to comply!
I looked at his face- broad forehead, swarthy features, a brown pate with a crescent of white hair at the back, a slight smile, and eyes still fast shut!
The slight movement woke Chachi ji from her snooze on the adjacent bed. Opening her sightless eyes, she tried to feel with her hands. She asked, ‘Is it you, Hina?’ I rushed to hold Chachi ji’s outstretched palm. Squeezing my hand she concluded, ‘You seem to have become thin, are you not eating properly? See, I got your favourite daal made today! And the black neembu achaar that I had made three years ago is still kept for you!’ Blinking off my tears, and keeping my voice steady I just said, ‘No Chachi ji, I do eat. But I miss the food that you made!’
Chachi ji laughed heartily, ‘Oh, my Bitiya. Go on, have food now!’
Chachi ji was clad in a white cotton dhoti with an elegant purple zari border. A red bindi adorned her forehead, while her pale face framed by white strands of hair reminded me of white aparajita flowers. Though made of flesh and blood, the eyes of this aparajita were opaque and white!
It had been several years that the vibrancy of her voice had been in direct contrast to her blacked- out vision, for, marred by disease, her eyes had become an obliterating pit- a blackhole!
I glanced at Chacha ji- serene, with eyes firmly shut! I looked back at Chachi ji – eyes open, but without vision.
A family photograph of their Golden Anniversary taken several years ago smiled down at me from the opposite wall. I felt they could still ‘see’ each other!
Shared by : Aparnaa Laxmi "Hina",
