Samarpan pulled over the car at the petrol pump, the adjacent general store was too attractive to prevent Samruddhi and Samant from running out of the car to fill their pockets and empty their dad’s. Sandhya followed the kids into the store just to keep a check on what they lay their hands on. Sandhya and Samarpan were happily married for fourteen long years now and were enjoying the prime of their lives revolving around their “double dhamaka” kids, as they were called by all their neighbors. Sandhya’s day used to start with waking up the two naughty creatures followed by resolving their conflicts over who goes into the bathroom first, preparing breakfast for them and packing their lunch boxes and listening to them crib over the smell of the milk. Samarpan used to be the perfect partner giving Sandhya a hand for ironing their clothes and helping them get ready for school. Only at 7.00 am when they were off into the school bus, did the two breathe a sigh of relief.
The two kids had made their residence a pleasant house of disorder and disruption. The last time that Samarpan got a packet of chips for them, Sandhya couldn’t control laughing as she saw the two divide it piece by piece counting innocently till the packet was empty. This was a pleasant view indeed before it became violent when Samant hid his plate and claimed he had eaten it all. Poor ignorant Samruddhi offered Samant her share only to realize later that he had actually saved his! What followed was uncontrollable chaos which would bring the whole house down. The same was the scene whether it be dividing Cadbury dairy milk or the butterscotch family pack ice-cream which Samarpan used to get on weekends. It was an unknown joy that they shared while engaging in this childish act.
“Anna, wait. I am coming too”, Samruddhi ran after Samant as he entered into the store.
The store keeper became alert as he saw the two naughty looking kids bring the store down. It took them not more than five minutes to pick what they needed.
“Only one bottle”, Sandhya commanded as she saw Samant struggle to lift the big Coco Cola bottle from the shelf.
Samarpan drove past the petrol pump and honked the horn, “Let us go guys”. The kids rushed towards the car and Sandhya struggled to catch up with both her hands occupied by two full carry bags filled in the past five minutes. Finally they were on the road heading back to their home. Samruddhi had her eyes fixed on the red shining Coke bottle half dangling from the carry bag. It only took a moment for her to open the bottle once they were home.
“Sammu wait. First have lunch, you know Daddy won’t like it if he sees”, Sandhya shouted but to Samruddhi’s inattention to her mother’s warnings.
As Samarpan entered the house, he saw both Samruddhi and Samant sitting on the table with two glasses side by side and pouring in Coke trying to match the level in the two glasses. He could nothing but smile at the not so new scene and told Sandhya to serve food for him.
At a tender age of 10 Samruddhi was too small to understand the concept of sharing and at 13 Samant was not so big so as to accommodate Samruddhi’s innocence by compromising on his share.
Another addictive game which they played was ‘who hits the last’, as Sandhya used to call it! It started with one of the two hitting the other for some reason which followed till one has given up or has been given some incentive by their mother to stop the silliness. The winner of the fight, as a common agreement, was the one who hit the last, which led to the incentives becoming unattractive at times during peak stages of the fight. Such fights even turned violent and ultimately ended with loud cries of “I hate you” from the losing party and “You don’t love me, you always take his/her side” (for their mummy) from the winning party, after Sandhya is forced to intervene.
With friends and families, experiences and exasperations, joys and sorrows, achievements and adjustments, their life was going on happily in the homely city of Nagpur.
A couple of years passed by and the kids grew up, but only in size and age. Their actions still remained the same, be it dividing dairy milk or hitting each other till one gives up.
“Stop it you two, just look at yourself. You grown up morons!”, Sandhya was at her brink today. The fight started over the TV remote and had moved on to who will sit on the Sofa which ultimately turned violent and ended up being the ‘who hits the last’ drama. Samant gave a hard blow to Samruddhi and ran out of the house with his bicycle keys, ignoring his mother’s scoldings and Samruddhi’s wining.
“Sshhhhh.. Don’t cry Sammu, we will give him good scolding once he is back”, Sandhya tried to pacify Samruddhi, though helplessly. After an hour or two the house had calmed down. It was 7:00 in the evening and it was just about time when Samant used to come back after playing with the neighbor’s kids. Samruddhi had just gotten up from the ‘cry cry and go to sleep’ nap following the fight.
“I don’t care, I will hit him when he comes back. You hold him for me”, Samruddhi said in a sheepish tone half asleep half awake.
Just then the telephone bell rang and Sandhya got up to answer it. She said a silent “Hello” followed by a high pitched “What” and then waited silently for the other end to finish. Samruddhi could only hear “Hmmm” for the rest of the conversation from this end and got up and held her mother as she saw tears rolling down her cheeks with every “Hmmm”. The phone slid from Sandhya’s hand as she sat down uncontrollably and started crying. A cry such loud that Samruddhi had never seen her mother in this state before. She knew something was wrong but she hesitated to ask. She did not have the courage to ask or rather to hear. She heard the doorbell ring, the sound never seemed so harsh. As she opened the door, Samarpan stood there with eyes red and wet and a straight face of lost hope, he quietly laid down Samant’s body soaked in blood on the bed in the front room.
“Daddy, what happened to Anna?” Samruddhi asked silently with tears rolling down her cheeks. Sandhya broke down on seeing the body, she held him hard, shouted cries of “Wake up”, shouted hard as if for God to hear and have pity on her. Her world had ended. Looking at her mother, Samruddhi also started crying. “Get up Anna, Mummy is crying. Get up.”, she hit him hard, she had been waiting to do this for long to win the game. Ultimately she had won; Samant would not be getting up to return the strike. She promised God she would never ever hit him again just let him come back once. She saw her mother and father in utter despair and started crying helplessly.
Sandhya came running towards the room and turned the lights on.
“What happened Sammu? I am here, nothing’s wrong.”, Sandhya tried to soothe her.
“Anna is not yet back, we will hit him don’t worry, I will help you”, Sandhya said calmly.
Samruddhi realized she was on the bed, she hugged her mother and started crying louder.
“Shhhh, Shhh. Sammu, what happened dear?”
Samruddhi tried to calm down. She couldn’t recollect the dream, except her mother crying and Samant lying on the bed drenched in blood. She was more than glad for having learnt her lesson in the dream.
“Nothing Maa, I don’t want to hit Anna. I promised God.”
Sandhya comforted her as Samruddhi laid her head down in her mother’s warm lap.
“I love you Maa”, Samruddhi said innocently. “I also love Anna and Daddy a lot”.
“We love you too Beta”, Sandhya did not understand where this was coming from but did not know how else to respond.
Samruddhi wasn’t sure why she said that. That one dream made her realize the importance of those inseparable people with whom we share our entire lives without imagining how it would have been without them! People we know we love and cannot live without but don’t remember the last time when we had told them so. Guess Samruddhi did not want to take another chance to live with that regret.
(Dedicated to all those loved ones and the most special relationship of brother and sister without which childhood would never have been so full of fun, frolic and excitement)
4 comments:
Why do all their names start with 'S'. I had a difficult time remembering who's who.
Btw, the dad's name was good - Samarpan - he was completely dedicated all throughout the story. Hahaha!
First and foremost, I agree with what Shreetam said about names. I had a hard time as well remembering the names of the kids and the mother.
Anyways, I never had any doubts on your writing skills. Needless to say that this story was shaped beautifully. I liked the transition from nightmare to reality and the apt use of adjectives.
As far as the story is concerned, it reminds me of some of my own nightmares and the state of mind after I realized the truth. I just could not help appreciating the reality and feeling a sense of gratitude for my life. If the story can remind me of that, then it was powerful enough to do what it was meant to do.
Bottom-line, Keep them coming. You might end up with a short book on short stories.. ;)
2 2 good man..but yes ..i got mixed with names as well..
i would love to read more..
Gr888 Work !!!!
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