This Wall Between Us. . .
Can they overcome the divide?
“We need to go, Sangya. There is nothing left for us here.”
“Go? Where, Suraj? This is our home. Our son is here.”
Suraj lowered himself, heavily, on the couch by her side. “It was our home. You know too well that Aditya will never listen to us. We have been trying for the past six months. It didn’t change a thing…” He paused, finding it difficult to give voice to his next words.
The realization itself was heart-rending. “He has decided to sell the house. It is not our home anymore.”
Sangya was crestfallen as the same realization hit her one more time out of the innumerable times since past months. She closed her eyes.
Studying the patterns of phosphenes pulsating within, she struggled to make up her mind, racing it through all the available options to reach a conclusion. There were none.
Nonetheless, not the one to give up easily, she shook her head in denial. “I am not leaving. I am sure he will listen to us. We just need to try harder,” she declared with a finality in her voice.
“Aadi . . . Aadi . . .” she called out.
***
Aditya was all ready for office; ready to resign from his job and leave the city for good. Depressed and angry, it was his last-ditch effort to find some semblance of meaning in his otherwise miserable existence.
He was about to walk down the stairs to the ground floor and out through the hall door when he heard a faint voice calling his name.
His initial instinct was to ignore and leave.
Somehow it didn’t seem the right thing to do. Frowning, he turned and walked back into the room. His eyes fell on his mother across the room.
Smile lighting up her gentle face.
His father was also there, right besides her, looking at him; a faint suggestion of smile could be seen in his eyes, too.
Something snapped within him the very moment.
He flinched as the shrill noise of cell phone filled the otherwise silent house. Letting out a sigh, he took the call.
It was the real estate agent. He was calling in to confirm the decision one last time before putting out the property into the market.
Aditya’s eyes met her again.
She had not changed her expression or shifted her gaze. She was looking right into his eyes with the same sweet smile on her face.
“Hello . . . Sir . . . Are you there, Sir?” A restless voice squawked into his ears from the device.
It brought him back, rather harshly, to the affair at hand.
***
“Yes . . . yes, I am sure about my decision. No, it’s not going to change,” Aditya said into the phone, a brief talk later. Confirming his decision one last time, he disconnected the call.
He let out an audible exhale as his gaze meandered across the room.The infant rays from the Monday sun were filtering in through the white diaphanous drapes hung over the windows. The light, however, stopped short just before his parents, slanting away on the floor.
Aditya walked towards them, trudging through the narrow space between the double-bed and the wall opposite. Stopping in front, he extended his hand towards his mother. His fingertips tingled with the touch.
The air seems to have rippled, ever so slightly.
That familiar feeling came rushing, all at once. Of her warm hands and soft touch. The smile has still not left her face.
An inadvertent weak smile creased Aditya’s lips even as his eyes reflected acute pain.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself together and met the eyes of his parents. “I have decided I am not going to sell the house,” he whispered.
His throat was constricted with emotions raging inside as he looked at the photograph of his recently deceased parents. “I cannot part away with the only memory I have left of you. I thought I could. . . but. . .I can. . . t. . .I. . .m so. . .r — ”
The remaining words died inside his mouth; a sob escaped. He pursed his lips together.
His fingers grazed the wall once before resting again on the photograph.
Strange!
Even in December cold, the wall and the glass on the photo frame felt warm.
His body gave an involuntary shudder.
Sometimes, when he is in the room reading a book or working his laptop, he could feel that the entire wall had turned transparent, and a couple of familiar faces were watching him from the other side.
Although there would be nothing but the same dense, unyielding wall with the photograph of his parents — smiling at him — as soon as he would look towards it.
***
“See, I told you he will listen,” Sangya mumbled, never taking eyes off her son on the other side.
What was a thick opaque wall in their son’s world is just a transparent veil on their side.
“I see now.”
***
Aditya placed his forehead at the foot of the photograph, at their feet. Tears began rolling down his cheeks.
***
“We are at peace here. Be at peace with yourself, beta!” Sangya’s hand, reaching out from the other side of the wall, was caressing his head.
Blinking hard, Suraj too extended his hand to comfort his son.
The air rippled again…
*** *** ***
