On the banks of river Mandovi (Short Story )

On the Banks of river Mandovi
(A Short Story)
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On the banks of the Mandovi River, Asmita sat on a cement bench in a deserted park. With vacant eyes she gazed toward the western horizon. The sun was slowly sinking, and the crimson glow of its fading rays shimmered upon the river’s waters. In rhythm with the dancing waves, the boundless waves of Asmita’s thoughts also swayed restlessly within her mind.

Fifteen days ago, after coming to Goa and enrolling at the International Fashion Designing College, this was the first time she had come to the banks of the Mandovi. She had come hoping that the gentle breeze of the river might lighten the burden weighing on her heart.
But could the cool breeze of the Mandovi truly soothe her troubled mind? Could anyone untangle the knotted threads of thoughts that had thrown her emotions into such chaos? Asmita removed her fogged spectacles and wiped them with the end of her scarf. Just like the misted glass of her spectacles, her life too seemed blurred, and she could not understand why.

At the age of only eighteen, why had she been forced to stand helplessly at the crossroads of endless questions? While her friends were savoring the nectar of youth and life, why had society placed in her hands a cup filled with the poison of unending pain? Who was responsible for it—Mama or Dada?

The thought of her mother filled Asmita’s eyes with tears. Fifteen days ago, when her mother had left her at the college hostel and returned to Mumbai, Asmita had tried hard but failed to hold back her tears of farewell. Clinging tightly to her mother like a little child, she had burst into sobs.
From childhood till now she had never stayed away from her mother. In happiness they had laughed together; in sorrow they had wept together; and in times of trouble they had faced the world holding each other’s hands firmly. Never had they abandoned one another even for a moment. Her mother was everything to her.

After her parents’ quarrel, when her mother had moved to Mumbai, Asmita and her mother had remained each other’s only support ever since. Now, living far away from her mother, an unbearable loneliness had gripped her heart. She kept thinking, “How must Mama be living all alone? What might she be doing now? Does she not feel helpless without me?”

Today her mind drifted back ten years into the past. In Pune they had once lived such a happy life! At that time Asmita was only eight years old. She had been the apple of both her parents’ eyes. Her father affectionately called her “Asu.”

In her childhood, her father had been her best friend. Since her mother had to leave early for office, it was her father who did everything for her—from brushing her teeth and bathing her, to ironing her school uniform, polishing her shoes, feeding her, and dropping her at school. Without her father, life had seemed unimaginable.
Whenever she fell ill, he would stay awake through the night beside her. Once she had suffered from typhoid fever for fifteen days. Forgetting his own meals and rest, he had sat beside her bed and cared for her until she recovered.

To look after the daughter more closely, her father took permission from his office to work from home. But that decision gradually became the beginning of his misfortune. After finishing office work he would remain alone at home and perhaps out of boredom began to drink. Slowly drinking turned into a habit.

Soon fierce quarrels began between her parents. As if someone’s evil eyes had fallen upon their happy family. Asmita’s tender heart was tormented by their constant arguments. Whenever her mother scolded her father loudly, Asmita would cling to her mother and cry, pleading,
“Please, Mama, don’t scold Dada like this. He will become good again. He won’t drink anymore. I will explain to him.”

But her father never returned to the right path. Because of irregular work, he eventually lost his job. Finally her mother refused to continue living with him. She took a transfer to the Mumbai office of the company where she worked and moved away.

Leaving her father alone in Pune, Asmita had no choice but to go with her mother to Mumbai.
When the time came to leave Pune, Asmita had clung to her father and cried bitterly. She had pleaded with her mother again and again:
“Please Mama, forgive Dada. I cannot live without him.”

But her earnest pleas had no effect. Even her father had cried helplessly like a child while bidding her farewell. Asmita could never forget that tearful face of his.

She had heard that before their marriage, her parents had loved each other deeply. They had married against the wishes of their families. None from either side had attended the wedding. It had been solemnized at the Arya Samaj in the presence of a few friends.

But somewhere the chemistry of their love had broken down. They forgot the most important principle of married life—trust. As her mother gradually drifted away from her father emotionally, she grew closer to one of her colleagues. When her father came to know of it, the last fragile thread of trust between them snapped.
Their lives ran parallel from then on—like the two banks of the Mandovi River, with no possibility of ever meeting again.
Her father still came to Mumbai sometimes just to see her. Staying at a hotel outside, he would visit her school. During those emotional moments, tears would flow freely from the eyes of both father and daughter.

Asmita would plead with him:
“Dada, my dear Dada, please come back. If you return, our family will be complete again. The emptiness in my life will be filled. I cannot live without either you or Mama. I need both of you. Please come back.”

But her father never replied. He would stare silently at the sky with vacant eyes. His lips would tremble, and tears would gather at the corners of his eyes. Seeing that, Asmita never had the courage to say anything more.

She had also begged her mother many times to end the quarrel with her father. But her mother remained stubborn. No one tried to understand the emptiness inside Asmita’s heart.

Because of the conflict between her parents, Asmita had also lost the affection of her grandparents from both sides. They had all distanced themselves. She had been deprived of everyone’s love. What a cursed life it seemed!

Now Asmita had heard that her parents were planning to divorce. Her mother might marry her colleague. Who knew what her father would do? Perhaps they both wanted freedom from a suffocating relationship.

But what would happen to Asmita?
How could she ever give her mother’s new husband the place of her beloved father? After the divorce, perhaps her father would forget his loving daughter “Asu” and marry someone else, starting a new life somewhere.

Then Asmita’s life would become like a flower torn away from its stem. Why had her parents brought her into this world? With what identity would she live?
In the dry branches of her parents’ broken relationship, she felt herself like a parasitic vine clinging meaninglessly. Where there was no life left in the relationship, what meaning did her own existence have?

Evening had deepened on the banks of the Mandovi. A lone star flickered faintly in the sky. Perhaps that solitary star understood Asmita’s pain.
Two drops of tears fell from her eyes.
With a long sigh, Asmita slowly rose from the bench.......

(Kulamani Sarangi )