Chapter 1 (A Wave on the Shore)

Chapter-1

October – 2016 

 

The light was pushing the darkness away minute by minute. The sun had risen somewhere behind the high-rises, its arrival evident in the silver linings that tried their best to adorn the dull grey of clouds.

For the first time in the last twenty-seven days, Helly felt calm while observing the ordinary activities of her surroundings.

During the past month, the chirping of birds and the murmur of early-risers had only irritated her. A fake smile on her lips assured everyone that she was doing well while her swift pace avoided all possibilities of verbal exchange.

She looked through her eyes but her brain refused to register anything. Her limbs kept working reflexively but her mind remained absorbed in a whirlpool of thoughts; thoughts that chipped her spirit throughout the day.

But surprisingly, today seemed different.

Panting, she stooped down with her hands on her knees to catch some breath. Her wandering eyes found a bench at some distance. Licking her dry lips, while taking in the hustle and bustle around the jogging track that encircled Vastrapur Lake she sat down on that bench.

A stout girl finished her run and took a seat beside her. Apart from streaks of sweat, her face was glowing. With a faint smile, she acknowledged Helly. Since Helly had been coming to the lake for years, she was familiar with many.

“Is everything alright with you?” The girl asked.

Her sudden attempt to begin a talk perplexed Helly. “Yeah, everything is fine. Why?”

“I’ve been noticing you for some days. Your eyes look sunken. And your face,” She shook her head disapprovingly, “has gone pale. Are you ill?”

There was thoughtfulness in her thin voice. Helly felt a lump melting in her throat. These days even the smallest gestures of kindness turned her emotional.

“Yes, been sick for a while.” She lied. “I’m getting better, though.”

The girl nodded sympathetically and to Helly’s relief didn't ask any more questions. After regaining her breath Helly stood up and made for the exit.

An aged man with whom she crossed path every day grinned at her. He exuded such warmth while doing so that Helly couldn’t help grinning back. The man moved on at his slow pace but the joy of that three-second gesture stayed with her until she drove to her home.

Her mother, Mrs Aarti Shroff, had woken up and was brewing a pot of tea. The Gayatri-Mantra cassette was playing on the shelf near the balcony door. Helly walked inside to treat her dry throat.

“Slept well?” Mrs Shroff asked, more out of concern than habit. Helly nodded with a mouth full of water.

She continued reading Helly’s face, perhaps trying to assess the authenticity of her answer. Helly kept her expressions normal.

Mrs Shroff cupped her cheek and said, “You know we love you, don’t you?”

Helly took a deep breath. “I know.”

She couldn’t meet her mother’s anxious gaze again so left for her room.

Splashes of cold water on her sweaty face felt refreshing. Patting her wet skin with a towel she emerged from the bathroom when her eyes landed on an aquarium that sat on the chest of drawers.

The black-topped glass tank with its water plants and glossy gravel certainly increased the charm of her room. Not even once it had failed to mesmerize a visitor ever since the calendar marked its presence in the home.

An excited face of a man flew out of her memory and sailed across her eyes as she watched Rosy, her goldfish, swimming in the tank.

Helly had always wanted a pet. But she’d never stopped by a pet shop partly because she knew she couldn’t spare the time to take care of it and partly because it had never occurred to her to give it a try.

And then one day, He had gifted her Rosy. Like how life had gifted her Him.

A piercing pain rose from her heart and coursed its way to her stomach. Her hands clenched the smooth fabric of the towel, her breathing grew shallow and swift. She hurried to the window and thrust it open.

The gentle wind kissed her face. For a moment it made her forget all her pain. She took long breaths to calm down. A minute later she turned to Rosy.

“I’m sorry. I’m not able to look at you the way I used to. Mom replaced the tank’s water yesterday, right? I don’t even care to feed you.” She sighed remorsefully. “I’m supposed to take care of you, not mom. I’ve broken my promise. But then, he broke his promise too.”

She leant forward, bringing her face near to the tank.

“People leave. World changes. In just twenty-four hours. But you know what’s worse than someone leaving you, Rosy? Someone leaving you without a good reason. Without giving you a chance to make up for your mistakes. Without letting you express one last time how much you’ve loved them. Valued them.”

She scoffed. “You think they have accepted you the way you are. With your weaknesses and flaws. Trusting them you free yourself, let your hair down and pfft… you are standing alone in the middle of the road hating yourself more than ever.”

As though Rosy could understand what Helly was saying, she stopped swimming. Her saffron and white body came to a standstill. She was staring at Helly with her tiny eyes.

Helly chuckled. Right then her mother called her from the drawing-room.

Another thing was different today, Helly noted. There were no tears in her eyes. A small victory.

“I’ll take some time to recover. Please, bear with me.” She tapped softly on the glass tank and rushed out.

“Good morning, sweetie pie!” Her father, Mr Anand Shroff, greeted her at the breakfast table.

“Morning, Papa.”

Her tea was already served in a mug that lay beside a glass jar of biscuits. Her mom came out of the kitchen with two plates of poha and joined them.

Helly was dipping a crispy biscuit into tea when she caught her mother gesturing something to her father. Well aware of what was to come she braced herself.

Her father cleared his throat and asked, “So, is this your final decision to resign from the school?”

“Hmm.”

His once commanding voice now sounded so feeble that Helly felt guilty. It was then it dawned upon her how much her parents had been affected by her cold behaviour.

“But this was your choice even after studying management. Wasn’t it your hobby? What’s that you said? Your passion?”

Helly looked up. Grey hair had begun to appear in his bushy eyebrows. He was waiting for her to speak. Anything. Her mother too was examining her single-mindedly, her breakfast still untouched.

“Yes Papa, I said it was my passion. It still is and I really enjoyed every single day I worked at school. But I’ve turned in my resignation three weeks ago.” Helly replied as evenly as she could.

On observing her calm temper her mother chimed in, “Oh that can be withdrawn. Tell me, where will Mr Patel find such a brilliant art teacher?”

Helly’s heart swelled with pride on listening to the word brilliant. Once again a lump was melting in her throat.

“Listen, sweetheart,” her father said when she didn’t answer her mother. “We just don’t want you to regret your decision later. I agree your mom and I weren’t much supportive in the beginning. But there’s no way we can ignore what it has done to you.”

He continued eagerly, “Remember how you woke up each day with so much enthusiasm because you couldn’t just wait to go to work? Remember how you were so immature? Now you are all ripe and levelheaded. Your work never exhausted you and most importantly you were so content all the way through. We’ve seen you change, grow, willingly take responsibilities.”

Some of them were the consequences of her growing up, she wanted to argue but didn’t.

“It’s a good job, child. Don’t leave it because you’re passing through a rough phase of life.” He requested. “Let it be your strength in this time and draw you out of this difficulty.”

For some half a minute there was complete silence. Everything her father said was true, Helly accepted. But she’d made up her mind and her gut feeling said that she was right.

“I can’t teach what I can’t do with my heart in it, Papa.”

Her mother tried to protest but Helly quelled her efforts saying, “I think it’s time to do some real work. I can’t keep painting blank canvases my whole life.”

The sad look on her parents’ faces stung her.

She gulped down the remaining tea, got up with an empty mug and murmured, “I can’t paint. Not anymore.”

Wrapped in the scent of a shower gel and deodorant she picked out a red velvet tunic and black denim from her wardrobe. Since it was her last week at school, nobody raised an objection to her casual dressing and she deemed it as her parting gift.

She idly gazed at her reflection in the mirror. A small forehead, straight nose, thin lips and padded chin gave shape to her face. Her wavy hair fell right below her shoulders while a mole on her left cheekbone marked itself as a beauty spot.

A coat of foundation radiated her light brown complexion and an inch-long heel gave her the height she believed to be ideal for a girl.

While putting unnecessary things in the dressing table drawer she noticed her eyeliner. A man’s grinning face flashed through her mind. She closed the drawer and left.

The ride from her home to school was long. But Helly liked driving on wide, empty roads in chilly mornings. It made the world around her likeable and the start of her day exciting.

The egg-shaped playground of the school which was briefly converted into an assembly for prayers was packed with children and teenagers.

The arrangement of the assembly never ceased to amuse Helly. Little, barely two feet long kindergarteners stood first; some scratching their legs, some playing with their braids.

Behind them was the main source of never-ending chatter – primary section; and at last, childhood confusing adolescence – secondary and higher-secondary students who never cared to pray unless their exams were approaching.

Helly checked her timetable as the prayer session ended and made it for the class of seventh grade.

It had been two and a half years since Helly started working at school but the day of her interview was as alive in her memory as if it’d happened just yesterday. That’s where her problem was. Some memories threatened to be there. Forever.

The results of her post-graduation exams were out. She was going to her college to collect the mark sheet. In the morning she’d read a classified from a reputed school of Ahmedabad that needed an art teacher.

After getting her mark sheet and savouring the canteen snacks for one last time she was driving back home, pondering over what type of job she wanted to take up.

Suddenly that newspaper classified occurred to her. She glanced at her watch. There was still half an hour left for the interview round to wind up. On a whim, she decided to give it a shot.

Mr Patel, the head of the school, was surprised to see a management student as a candidate. However, the interview went well. He told her that they’d appointed a teacher with a specialization in arts earlier but somehow it didn’t work out like he’d wanted so he was ready to give her a chance.

For that, he asked her to come up with any two of her paintings the next day and said that if he liked it, she would have to take three trial classes.

Incredible it seemed at first and it also put Helly in a dilemma – whether to go for it or look for a job in her own field. In the end, she trusted her instinct and took a leap of faith. A week later she got the job.

Initially, she’d planned to do it just for a few months. But to her amazement, she found out that even after a year she was passionate about it like she was meant to do nothing else.

She’d loved painting for as long as she could remember. Additionally, every day she would learn something in other forms of art and teach it to those innocent souls who believed her as if she had some superpowers.

Whenever she involved them in experiments, afire, they burst out like a chain of firecrackers with thrilling sounds and fascinating colours. And it was nothing less than a wonder any day.

“You are getting married. Accept it.” Said Sushma di, Helly’s colleague.

Helly was sitting in the staffroom, pecking at a microwaved chapatti stuffed with her not-so-favourite sabji when beefy Sushma di hurried over to her and plumped down in the next chair; the sole purpose behind her eagerness, gossip.

“Not at all. I’m still single. Just… Er… not so ready to mingle.”

Sushma wasn’t the first one to poke her nose into Helly’s private and for the time being a sore matter. Helly had been facing this question ever since people at school came to know about her resignation.

In the beginning, it was funny and she would just laugh it off. But when a question, though harmless and casual, is repeated for days, it becomes a pain in the neck.

“Come on, don’t lie.” Sushma persisted.

Before Helly could shake her head, a familiar croaky voice drew her attention. “Listen, Helly!”

Smita, another colleague of hers who trained nursery students, was standing in the doorway.

“Can you take this princess to the head office?” She asked. “Her granny is waiting there.”

That’s when Helly’s brunette eyes met a pair of green eyes. The kid had gripped Smita’s pinky finger in her small hand.

“Sure. With all pleasure.” Helly hopped out of her chair to wash her hands, in her mind thanking Smita for providing her with a way of escape from Sushma, the gossipmonger.

“What’s your name?”

“Prisha.”

“Beautiful name.”

“Thank you.”

Helly offered her hand. Prisha took hold of it right away. Helly grinned. Prisha grinned back. And they started walking to the head office.

“You don’t know me but I know you.” Prisha lisped. There was a sparkle in her green eyes.

“Really? How?”

“You teach my brother. His name is Aayush. He’s in the fifth grade.” With each of her lisped words, her high ponytail bounced back and forth.

“Oh yes, Aayush. The one who wears round glasses. So what does he say about me?” Helly asked as they climbed down the steps, nearing the office on the ground floor.

“He doesn’t like painting much but he likes attending your class because you tell funny stories. When we're playing together, he always narrates them to me. And... and… we laugh a lot.” She giggled shyly. “But the other day…”

Her voice suddenly switched into a whisper and Helly had to slouch to understand what she was saying.

“The other day he told me that you’re going. So when I’ll move up to the fourth grade, I won’t be able to attend your class. I like painting. I wanted to attend your class.”

Prisha looked crestfallen. Helly froze by the head office door, overcame by an unexpected surge of emotions, her fingers slowly slipping off the knob. That lump in her throat had probably got a twin this time.

Like a lightning bolt, in that precise moment, she realized to what she was going to kiss goodbye.

Yes, she’d known it all along. Known it from the seventh day of her breakup that she needed a change. When she told her parents that she couldn’t paint, it didn’t mean she’d lost her ability to paint because a man had lost his ability to love her.

She couldn’t paint because she desperately needed something to divert and hold her attention. Something she couldn’t do mechanically while her mind roamed around the beautiful lanes of the past. A beauty that stabbed every waking minute of her present.

Therefore, she’d determined that she wouldn’t let her breakup get the better of her.

Yes, it was hard to believe that she wasn’t with him. True it was that in everything she did, everywhere she went, a moment of peace was all she ached for. She might or might not find it but there was no way she would let it break her down.

Helly squatted and spoke to Prisha, “I’m sending a very funny teacher in my stead who will make you laugh a lot more.”

Prisha beamed. Helly kissed her on the cheek.

“Here they are.” Mr Patel welcomed as Helly pushed open the door. An old lady was sitting on the couch that was reserved for the visitors. Her wrinkled face split into an affectionate smile when she saw her granddaughter. She spread her arms and Prisha ran into them.

Mr Patel gestured to Helly to take a sit but she waved her hand saying, “I have a class.” and left the office.

A storm of memories, some vague, some vivid, erupted in her mind as she moved past the beige walls.

Laughing with her colleagues in the corridor, running on a warm shore with a group of her students, singing in the class at their requests, talking with their parents and getting a sense of fulfilment after receiving their feedback.

Such a magpie we humans are! We want to hoard and remember everything, seize it all in our tiny handful and desire to tuck it away in the archives of our mind. Alas! If only we could.

A wan smile came on her lips. So what if she was walking away? She treasured every experience this place had given her and knew that its imprint would remain on her heart forever.