MOVING ON

It wasn’t hard for Rizvi to locate Block B and room no. 21 of her old house. What was hard was the memories that were difficult to look upon but she had to. She took the courage to lift her hand and turn the door knob.

The hall was dusty and filled with cobwebs as she had expected. She tried to move through the grey floor. The empty hall could hear only her footsteps and coughs. But this house played a great roll in her life on this day and she couldn’t fail to not visit.

Her brain began to play tricks using the magic of its’ cerebellum. Visions of her past life reached the iris of her eye and they wouldn’t stop being replayed again and again like seeing a visual tape. But this shouldn’t hold her back: A job was a job and she had to do it. She stared at the window pane- the garden she once loved to care and tend for now drooped with gloom and dullness. It was like the life it once had was gone too. Just like her.

“I’m sorry this room hasn’t been looked after for 2 years and its right now the best we’ve got.” Rizvi shared the space to the new couple who had come to buy the room for rent.

“It’s fine, it’s big enough for the both of us,” the lady smiled holding her husband’s arms.

“We can get it cleaned and good as new,” the husband informed her “Our previous place was like shreds. Believe me this is far better than that.”

Rizvi smiled at the young couple. It seemed like they were just wedded. Her thoughts brought her past again: The times when her husband used to be alive to return home. No matter how tired he was, he always had a smile on his face when she greeted him inside. He used to say how much warm he would feel when she hugged him: that always defeated the cold sweat against his skin.

One night she received a call from her husband’s number: she was excited. It had been 3 months since he left for his post in Kashmir as the Commander. She attended the call with high anticipation. Her face fell when the voice she heard wasn’t his. It was rather stern and cold.

“Hello?” she asked “Is Commander Arjun Devdas nearby?”

“How are you related to him?”

“I’m his wife: Rizvi J Devdas.”

That’s when she received the news. Arjun Devdas had died a martyr. A sudden unannounced attack from the enemy drove them by surprise. The Commander took to him 15 bullets while trying to save his comrades and some common folks who were travelling by the border. His injuries were fatal. He yearned to see her one last time, they said.

Rizvi couldn’t control her tears. The man she loved had sacrificed his life for others. Her job couldn’t afford to pay up for the bills and she had to vacate the only home she had known. The house she now lived on was offered as the Government Quarters for the families of soldiers who died that fateful day. She let her house for rent. Since then, this couple was the only customer to have ever booked her home to stay.

“Rizvi? Earth to Rizvi?”

She heard the lady’s voice and blinked her eyes a few times.

“I asked when could we start moving in?”

Rizvi smiled “Anytime this week ma’am.”

YES. She had moved on.