STORYMIRROR

nanda gopan

Drama Romance

4.1  

nanda gopan

Drama Romance

Love Letter

Love Letter

16 mins
694


  


In the scorching sun pedaling a cycle was not easy. Adding to the difficulty was the terrain. The mud road climbed up in place only to run down in a steep slope at another. Moideen, in his early fifties, struggled to keep going. But then the shade of trees here and there gave some respite and place to rest. He had stopped under one of those trees when I met him. He was mopping up his sweat using a colored striped handkerchief. After the exercise he held both corners of the handkerchief and folded the same a couple of times. The piece of cloth then took its place behind his neck under the shirt collar.

“Did you not have class today” he enquired with a smile of acknowledgement. His tobacco-stained tooth could be seen below the thick long moustache.

“Yes. But only for half the day.” I replied while continuing the walk. Moideenkaka, that’s what I called him, also started walking along with me pushing his cycle.

“You will be finishing your studies this year. Is it not?” he kept the conversation going. I must have answered this question umpteen number of times. But then that’s how people in small villages are. They know everything about each other, but still discuss the same things as part of their discourse. I simple nodded to confirm the same.

“What job will you get here? You will have to go to Chennai or Bombay.” He was thinking aloud; probably in my interest, as an advice.

“Do you have anyone known there?” Moideenkaka probed.

“No”, I didn’t want to elaborate.

“Hmm. Then it going to be difficult. New place, new language. But then once one goes over to these places they manage. There is nothing to worry.” The discourse went on.

“Jamal should also have passed along with you. It is quite unfortunate that he is not like you.” Kaka continued the conversation. It was understandable. All parents want their children to do better than them in all walks of life, studies especially.

What he was telling were facts. A good percentage of the youth did graduate every year and were not sure what to do next. Villages had almost no job opportunity. Andin the case of cities it was mad competition between unequal, were most of the village educated never make it. Their communications skills poor, contacts nil and competitive edge blunt. Still nothing is being done nor has much change happened. One just dreams of white collared jobs while studying- actually chasing a mirage.

Moideenkaka was working for a local businessman, Abubaker Haji. His son Jamal was my close friend. Right from childhood we have been growing up together. He is actually senior to me by a couple of months. Jamal was never good in studies and had discontinued it after losing in the first public examination, which was 10th standard finals. The fact that his studies were bad did not affect our friendship. In fact I had tried a few times to coach him. He was disinterested. His philosophy was degrees do not make life. Also he never wanted to leave the village he was born into.

Well-built and tall Jamal though disinterested in studies was an avid reader. The local high school, where we studied, had a good library. He picked up books from there. It was he who made me aware of the works of Thakazhi, Bhaseer, MTV and host of other great authors of Malayalam. I loved listening to his story telling after he finished each book. The characters of these stories were as actual living friends of Jamal.

He loved the fields, the river, the small hillocks and tress that made the village a beautiful place. Ye sour village is a paradise. Slightly away from the Western Ghats the land was a gifted place. The small river , a tributary of Bharathapuzha, had water almost all around the year. So the place had the verdant color of prosperity. The fields yielded twice a year and at other times were used for vegetable cultivation. An agrarian hamlet, with a lot of good people who have not been affected by the modernization of civilization nor by environment pollution. They always had innocent smiles on their face. Life had a slow pace, which they enjoyed.


I was the only son in the family and sending me away in search of a job was something that my parents were averse of. They wanted me to try for a government job, which was not easy. So after finishing my degree studies, I enrolled for post- graduation in psychology. I hoped of finding an opening within the next two years. As part time, to earn a few rupees I took to taking tuition classes.


It was in in one those classes that I met her. A petite girl she managed to find a special place in my heart. It was difficult within the social fabric to express any special liking to a student. Adding to the difficulty was that she was of muslim religion. Inter- caste marriage, that too in the village, was unacceptable. I knew the difficulties. But mind builds its own castles and we like to live that where logic many a time is not rational. And age is the foundation, which decides the strength of these castles. The flame was nursed inside me without being allowed to glow outside. I have never expressed my love to Jameela. But then you don’t have to have words to communicate everything. I am sure Jameela also had pondered upon similar thoughts and was having a special feeling towards me. Our eyes seemed to communicate. When one is in love the looks, walks and gestures always belie us. Well the flame of passion which had started to kindle did not burn down anything for I suddenly left the village when a job offer was received from a good private firm in Calcutta. Though my parents did their level best to dissuade me, I was able to prevail upon them.


It was the first time that I was travelling outside my native state. Calcutta was 2000 kilometers away from home. More than 40 hours of train journey. The journey though exciting did take its toll since it was summer. Passing through Andhra when the sun blazes at around 44 deg C was like travelling in an oven. On reaching Hoogly I was happy to find Vivek waiting for me. He was a distant relative of my father. I had only met him once a couple of years back on the occasion of some marriage in the family. He was about my age and has been employed in Calcutta for the past 2 years. He was supposed to be my guardian there. Being of the same age group, we became good friends.


It was a real culture shock for me. But in a few weeks I got over the “place lag” if I may call it and got used to the “bhadralok” way of living. But certain day-to-day scenes were very disturbing. The way people here find a man-pulled cart as a means of transport, almost every pillar on the Chowringee shopping arcade trying to act as a screen in the dusk to garishly dressed prostitutes soliciting clients, the tin sheeted buses that transport you to a different age, the squalor and filth seen side by side with the splendid neon lit shopping centres, the age old trams having hardly been cleaned , are the few that no one will miss. But still I started to like the place. The city has a sort of laziness built into its style of functioning.

Nearly 10 months has passed since I landed in Calcutta when I got a letter from a Jamal. I was surprised to see him write to me and pondered as to what could be the possible reason. After collecting the letter from the landlord I climbed up, to the first floor of the double storied house, making my way to the rented room. By the time I reached the door I had opened the letter and stated reading. The content was something I had never expected even in the wildest of my thoughts. Jamal was writing to me about Jameela. She nursed a strong longing to meet me. She was so badly effected by her obsession and was almost on the verge of becoming insane. She sometimes cries at the top of her voice. At other times she sits lost on time and surroundings. She was disinterested in everything. Her parents had already started psychiatric treatment. The whole village knows about this but have cleared me of any stains that normally gets kicked up. They feel that the girl was having an infatuation, that too one sided, which will clear off in course of time. But Jamal does not feel so. He feels it is a question of saving one life- all the more serious since her parents had started looking for a suitable boy to get her married off. He feels that the situation of Jameela will go out of bound driving her to insanity in case of a forced marriage. He has requested me to come immediately and salvage the situation. He was willing to shoulder all responsibilities in case of any problems that might arise. The letter had suddenly make me look a bit bewildered.

It was only when Vivek tapped on my shoulders did I come to my senses. I had still not opened the door and Vivek with a witty smile asked,” ISHQ, Is it? Looks like you were reading some love letter”

“No, No.” I corrected stating,” It’s from my chum and carries the flavor of the land.” But I knew that it was a sort of letter that many would never get in a lifetime. It left many questions in my mind. Is she in love with me? Why does she long for me?

Vivek was quick to make a cup of tea and we were sipping the same sitting on the parapet wall of the terrace, just outside our room.

Vivek’s presence actually diffused the difficult emotions that had welled up inside me. We gossiped for a while after which he bid good bye and left. All the time I was in conversation with Vivek my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Jameela. Yes I did have a sort of crush towards her, but never expressed explicitly. It was d

ifficult for me to spell out what exactly made her attractive to me. But something, in everything about her, did magnetize me. But then those feelings & thoughts had faded long ago and I was not ready to face a situation like this. Many thoughts came flooding in. Is Jameela really in love with me? Or is it a manifestation of her mental disease? Will my family accept her? Am I responsible for Jameela’s condition? Do I still love her? Will it be a sin to keep away from the issue?


The tsunami of thoughts started confusing my mind and built up a lot of mental distress. I went out for a stroll. The evening breeze from across the Ganges helped a bit. I walked for quite some time actually not really aware of my destination. Suddenly I realized that the roads have got deserted and it was getting late. I hailed a taxi and reached back to my room.


By morning I had made up my mind. I made my way to the train ticket reservation counter and booked for the days evening train. Next I telegraphed to Jamal stating my arrival. On reaching office I applied for a weeks leave. It was my first visit home after coming to Calcutta. I cannot go empty handed; but hardly had any time to do shopping. On the way to the station I managed to but a couple of Bengali cotton sarees and some Bengali sweets like Sandesh & Rasagolla.


Jamal was there to receive me at the station. He had brought his two wheeler. He took me to his orchard and thanked me for having come. “Allah will bring you lots of fortune” he blessed me. He appraised me of the situation. Jameela’s marriage has been fixed. She was not aware of this. The boy was some trader who keeps taking his merchandise from one village to another. The fellow has agreed to the marriage despite of Jameela’s problem; probably since the girls side was rich. Jamal was not too sure how to solve the issue, but was ready for anything. I asked him as to why he was taking all the trouble.

“Pure love is the best human emotion. It can be panacea for all. Since she longs for you I felt it was my duty to inform you.’ He replied stoically. The discussion continued for a long time. In the end of it I has concluded that the onus was on me. And I was ready.

Jamal dropped me at my house. My parents were surprised to see me at the doorstep. I had landed without giving any inkling about the trip, Mummy almost ran up to me and hugged me.

“Oh! My boy. You have pulled down a lot”, she said aloud. I think world over every mother perhaps tell the same thing when they see their son after a long time irrespective of whether there is an actual change.


After the initial niceties I had a wash and sat with my father to tell the purpose of my visit. Even though he was not mentally ready to such situations he quickly grasped the situation. We mutually decided to go over to Jameela’s house in the evening. My mother was never aware of anything.


When we walked into the old palatial house, the old man of the household Abubaker Haji was sitting in the verandah on the wooden easy chair. He had clad himself in a lungi and a sleeveless baniyan vest. The religious skull cap was there. On seeing us he exclaimed,” Ah, nice to see you Appottan Nair. It must be ages since you visited us. Come in and take your seat.”

“You have hardly changed Hajiyar. Hale and hearty as ever.” My father reciprocated.

“Who is it with you? Your son?” Abubaker tried to guess.

“Yes, I am here to talk to you about him.” Slowly my father was trying to open the subject.

“Hmm, What is it?” Haji enquired.

“Everybody is talking about him and Jameela. I want to broach the subject.” Father furthered directly.

“She is mad. I know your son has nothing to do with this.” He hardly had any grudge in his voice. ”Once her nikah is over everything will be okay. You don’t worry Nair. Allah is great. He will take care of everything.”

Moideen suddenly came out of the main door and seeing us he asked aloud, ”Are you here to make things worse? Please leave before she comes to know.”

“But if you don’t mind, my son would like to talk to Jameela.” My father continued on the subject “Maybe by seeing him and talking to him she might be better.”

“Have you both father and son gone mad?” Moideen jeered.

“How will it help?” Haji enquired not heeding Moideen’s words. “She is not in her senses.”

“There is nothing to loose. Perhaps some good might befall.” Father insisted.

Suddenly staring at me Abubaker Haji asked, “Did you ever give her any word or make any amorous advance?”

“No” I said firmly.

“Okay. I believe you.” After along gap he continued. “Let me think over it. I shall send word to you.”

The old man got up giving clear signal that the days talks were over. We wished him Good Night and returned home.


By the time we reached back mummy was waiting near the gate. As soon as we reached near her she started sobbing. “Is it why you came all the way? She scoffed at me. Turning her head towards my father she continued, “And you are with him. Is it?”

“You may marry anyone and live happily. But not here in my house. It is not because I don’t love you or am against the marriage. But this is a small village. Our culture has not evolved. You will never have a blissful life here. So if you marry her, leave straight to Calcutta.” She was clear in her statement. Wiping the tears with her saree she walked into the house.


Next day morning Moideen came with the word that Hajiyar wanted to meet us. Without bidding good-bye to mother I joined my father. The situation when we walked in past the main entrance was a bit disturbing. Almost all the members of the joint family were there. They stared at us meaning differently. Some displayed hatred, some ridicule, some were sad and a few angry . On seeing us a sort of eerie silence was established. Without any greetings or wishing Abubaker waived us to our seats.

“Suharah, take him to your daughter.” He ordered.

Somebody asked me to join him. I was taken inside the house and led to the entrance of a room with a small door. The lady present there nodded indicating that I can go inside. I had to bend a little to take an entry inside. The room was not that well lit. I saw her. Jameela was sitting on an unkempt bed. Her hair was all strewn and she looked distraught. She hardly acknowledged my entry. There were no emotions. She neither stirred from her place.

“Jameela” I called out softly. She didn’t seem to have heard. I called out a bit more loudly again. She turned around to face me on hearing the sound, as if out of a trance. She simply stated at me hardly showing any signs of recognition. I walked neared to her.

“Are you in love, Jameela?” I asked softly. I saw her eyes lit up. A vague smile seemed to be there. I was happy. At least she is responding.

“With whom are you in love?’ I tried to make her speak.

She hung her head down as if she was shy and started playing with the end of her shawl.

“Speak out, Jameela. I will be able to help you,” I cajoled her. “Do you love me?”

She suddenly lost interest and went back to her old mood.

“I am sorry. I know the Sultan in your mind.” I continued.

The twinkle in her eyes was back. It seemed that she wanted to hear more from me.

“Would you like to marry him?” To which she nodded.

Suharah who was watching all this behind me started wailing aloud. I was a bit taken aback. Hearing her crying sound a few other women joined us and I slowly made my way out.

I walked up to my father and explained what happened. Abubaker joined us both a bit later. I once again narrated the incident.

“Allah, What a fate? Mind is really a monkey; the tantrums it throws.” He said aloud.

“I am sure with love and affection her problem can be solved” I tried to calm him.

“Are you sure Jameela will be happy and alright?” He asked me straight.

I responded in positive and the crowd assembled there almost exploded.

“How can you marry her to a man of other religion?”, “It is against Allah & Koran”, “I would rather kill her than getting her married like this.” Various comments of discontent were voiced.


Abubaker raised his hand and silenced everyone. He called me aside and asked me to tell straight in plain words what I had in my mind. I briefly explained the situation. “The solution is in your hands. What Jameela wants is love and then time will heal everything. When there is someone willing to give her all the love in the world and accept her with all the problems you need not think twice. So why not accept that.”

“He turned around to the crowd and said sternly, “I have decided to go ahead with the proposal. Maybe that’s what Allah wishes.”

“We will be shamed by the community. How can we be proud muslims thereafter?” Somebody yelled from the crowd.

“Nobody be ashamed of anything. Jameela will be married by Jamal.” Abubaker’s statement had the crowd aghast. They had never expected this.

“Jamal truly loves her but didn’t know how to express it to the world, since he was Moideen’s son. It was Jameela who had suggested this drama. That’s how I came in the picture. I am now here as my friends advocate. Now all you can decide the formalities and allow the couple to live together.” I explained to the crowd. The incident was yet to sink in. Moideen didn’t know how to react.


The day I was leaving for Calcutta Jamal & Jameela were there to see me off.



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