Pilgrim's Peregrinations

-1-

‘How long will it take to reach the airport, dada?’ asked an impatient Madhurima for the third time in the last twenty minutes.

‘Madam, due to heavy rains, the streets of Kolkata resemble those of Venice now. There’s waist-deep water everywhere’, quipped the tawny-skinned quinquagenarian taxi-driver adjusting the rectangular mirror above the wheel.

Madurima wondered how this apparently illiterate taxi-driver knew about Venice. She looked out of the window with a flurry of thoughts spiraling in her head. The rain-washed shops with the glittering neon lamps seemed to reflect her personal thoughts somewhere. Almost immediately, the taxi-driver added, ‘My son is an artist in Italy. He left me and his mother for higher studies and never came back. Only an occasional postcard or a letter consoles us that he is alright and happy in his life.’

Madhu, as she was fondly called, kept her gaze fixed at a young couple holding an umbrella and trying to hop and skip over the low divider to get to the other side of the road at Ultadanga crossing. Her own mind seemed to be at some cross-roads. In the next moment, she mumbled under her breath, ‘Oh, I see’, and brought out her handkerchief to dab the silent tears which had welled up in her eyes by now. What moved her? Was it the couple wading through the vagaries of monsoon without or the immutable void in the taxi driver's life within after raising a son?

The engine purred gently as the taxi careened along splashing a different pattern of the logged water on both sides before roaring up the flyover towards Dum Dum Airport. The Indigo 6E 311 flight to Mumbai was on time and the display outside Terminal 2 suddenly made Madhu feel a punch of a blacksmith’s bellows inside her. With the medical file cradled securely in her arms and her American Tourister wheeling along beside her, she dialed hesitantly to the man who perhaps meant everything to her. She tapped on her husband’s contact on the touch screen pad. She phoned me in what appeared to be for the last time ever!

-2-

‘Anirban, you’re a wonderful man. We have been wonderful together. But I’m sorry to leave you halfway on this journey. I am helpless. Hope you will forgive me’, Madhu’s soft voice got directed to the voicemail. That night a part of me died within as I listened to her voice message more than fifty times partly to reassure myself it was my wife’s voice and partly to figure out why she had to take this extreme step. My frantic calls went unanswered. My restlessness was at an all time high. My tears and agony seemed to eulogize the consistent downpour pattering against the windows. Couples do fight over dirty laundry, over the toilet seat being kept down and over the dishes in the kitchen sink not being rinsed. In a second, my world crashed down upon me.

A thousand different thoughts raced through my mind, not being able to settle on any one particular strand. The monsoon of 2014 shook the very core of my being inside out. All my messages on WhatsApp went unseen. And then it happened! My phone calls were responded with, ‘Kindly, check the number that you have dialed.’ Really? Do I have to double-check my wife’s number before dialing? In what followed next, compounded by a tumultuous wave of emotions, was a loud crash of my cell phone against the gray tiled parapet of the porch looking over the dull and deserted asphalt sidewalk of Citadel Towers in South Kolkata. As if by some equally strange force, even I flopped down on the couch only to pass out moments later.

Mornings were no longer fragrant; the transitions from noon to evenings were mechanical and prosaic; nights were dreadful, laced with some deep fear of yet another loss into oblivion. Days, and weeks and gradually months passed by with no trace of the slightest communication from Madhu. Her email accounts were deactivated. Her bank accounts too met the same fate. On further understanding, it was brought to the realization that all the savings had been withdrawn a couple of weeks ago with the accounts being closed. It was as if I was trying to clutch at a wisp of hope in the emptiness of space, only to embrace inexplicable defeat each time. I didn’t wish to file a ‘missing person’ report because she actually didn’t go missing. She chose to walk out into that unknown world of her own will.

I dreaded looking into the mirror any longer. In fact, I stopped going near the dressing table. That half-used bottle of Chanel, the packet of colourful beauty blenders in varied geometric shapes, the palette of contour highlights recently gifted on her birthday, a couple of body lotion bottles and the ticking Fossil watch to seal our togetherness till eternity remained untouched since that dark night of July 2014. Even her clothes – all ironed, folded and neatly arranged – were left behind in the wardrobe. The major part of the wardrobe was filled with my clothes. I had always kept it like this, no matter how many times she would tell me to spare some space for her clothing. It had been a fortnight now since I had donated almost all my shirts, trousers, denims and casual wear, sparing a handful of formal outfit necessary at my workplace, to an NGO working for the flood victims and the orphans.

Come Fall. The russet leaves were carefully shifting to light apricot. The avenues were strewn with an array of autumn’s farewell to mankind for the year. I bade adieu to Kolkata too since my work required me to move to Mumbai. All that I carried with me were the wonderful memories that Madhu and I had shared at that home of ours in Kolkata.

-3-

‘Happy New Year, Anirban,’ greeted my colleagues at my new workplace in this City of dreams. I could merely smile back at those enthusiastic faces to acknowledge their greetings. People all around were busy sharing their New Year resolutions, partying hard, talking about their recent visit to some exotic landscape with their loved ones, and trying to fulfill all their dreams. I was given to understand how this city which never sleeps helps accomplish the dreams of every person whether a prince or a pauper. Quite ironic!

Not a single day had passed by without Madhurima shrouding my thoughts. Not a single day had gone by without hot silent tears streaming their course down my cheeks. Still confused, still befuddled yet extremely worried about where and how she might be at that very moment. Her slim-built petite structure was always complimented by the enigmatic smile and an equally energetic but intelligent vigour in her eyes. Those were her big dreamy eyes that one could barely miss out on meeting her. There were countless dreams in them. I had always loved the way she would throw caution to the wind by letting her hair loose. I loved the drool she would wake up within my arms every morning. How I would tease her often about that! I would even affectionately tease her about the way she ran while rushing to work or while chasing pigeons on sun-kissed courtyards. Many an evening she would tease me too with the most delicious frankies and home-made samosas. And yet I had never known her to be demanding for any material pleasures.

My eyes had been frantically searching for her one glimpse ever since that cold, wet night. From coffee shops to shopping arcades to restaurants and eateries to vehicles held up in traffic snarl; from people queuing up for various odd jobs to those attending music concerts and dance competitions, I had been looking up everywhere for my Madhu.

Life in Mumbai is quite different from anywhere else. One can barely afford to remain idle in this enchanting city. The company apartment was a decent place to stay for a single man. Or should I say a lonely man! Standing by the large windows from the twenty-second floor of my high-rise in Juhu, I would throw my eyes out each evening to the glimmering and tranquil skyline of this otherwise bustling metropolis. How miserably I hoped for Madhu to be there with me to watch the sun dip below the horizon and the charm of the night sky gently attenuating the woes of the day. Time flew by. I could merely whisper a prayer and some good wishes requesting the winds to carry them on their wings and send them across to my beloved. However, the zephyrs would bring no message back. Or so had I surmised in that gloom, each evening.

Rohit, my colleague in Mumbai and an ambitious young man with a fistful of dreams soon became a close friend of mine. He would often come over to my place during the weekends for a game of boards or go swimming. While sometime he would invite me for a pint of chilled beer at some uptown pub in Lokhandwala.

‘Hey, man, drink and be merry, for in life there’s enough sorrow to make you dreary’, he would often chime in with a wink. I would force a smile suppressing hard the surge of emotions ready for an outburst. Thankfully, my weeklong job was there to keep me occupied and steady somewhat.

February 14, 2015. I was clueless about the entire day. A strong pang of agony coupled with deep agitation clawed upon the very core of my being. The red heart-shaped balloons swaying everywhere, the messages of love accompanied by myriad romantic numbers blaring out of the popular radio stations in cars, taxis and shops around, the billboards and hoardings screaming irresistible offers on almost anything with hearts popping out from all corners, the exclusive offers on menu at all eateries across the city and the sight of innumerable love birds thronging all possible nook and corner suddenly sent a wave of dizziness within me. I felt like throwing up badly since my head was spinning beyond imagination.

That night, I decided to shut myself from the world of my own thoughts.

I wanted to breathe. I needed a resurrection.

-4-

‘Mr. Banerjee, your consistent efforts and brilliant contribution to the growth of this company have been recognized by the management and hence, we are extremely pleased to promote you as the Chief Advisor to the Board of Directors’, applauded the Managing Trustee in the Annual Meet on April 28, 2017.

That night was different. There was excitement, exuberance, ecstasy, and euphoria all around. Rohit volunteered to host a lavish party at my pad. Beer bottles fizzed every now and then, ice cubes tinkled inside glass tumblers continuously, chicken legs and fish kebabs were endlessly wolfed down. It was some celebration I had not witnessed in the last three years.

‘Ani, come here’, signaled Rohit to me from the sea-facing balcony twirling a can of Tuborg in his left hand and continued, ‘Remember the doctor friend of mine I spoke to you about? Here he is. Meet Mr. Gujral. Dr. Aditya Gujral. He has recently been in news for curing a cancer patient who was in the last stage. Incredible, isn’t it?’

‘Remarkable feat! Congratulations, Dr. Gujral’, I said extending my hand to wish him the best. He gave a warm shake with a broad smile acknowledging my courtesy with, ‘Thank you, Mr. Banerjee. It was a very special case. I had to spend many a sleepless night for good two and a half years.’

Suddenly, I was reminded of the last two years. I had totally surrendered myself to my work, with Rohit and I staying up late on certain nights to work on important projects. I had forgotten almost everything – right from the city I lived in, the smallest joys and pleasures of life to my very own existence, except for one thing. One look at my wedding ring, which still adorned my finger, unleashed a fresh zeal and inspiration to keep me going.

Almost shaking me out of my reverie, Dr. Gujral spoke, ‘You should meet this patient of mine as a part of your case study since yours is one of the leading pharmaceutical companies in the country today.’ His tone was kind of insisting. I relented with alacrity on my face but reluctance in my heart, giving Rohit a look which he probably failed to copy.

It was the last week of May when the audit team had come and everyone was busy with the submission of countless reports. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten the promise made to Dr. Gujral’, reminded Rohit over snack.

‘What now? Are you serious mate?’ I responded unassumingly and busied myself in my work.

It was not until the second week of June that Rohit and I had spoken or even met. I phoned him one weekend and asked him to get an appointment with Dr. Gujral.

-5-

June 19, 2017. Rohit texted me to reach Tea Villa Café at Sakinaka. The rain-bearing clouds cast a gloom over the city. And this was what I detested. It was about 7 pm when I reached the café. A slight drizzle was buffeted by the seemingly harmless breeze.

There was a couple sitting in the café when I walked in. As the light was low, I didn’t know who they were until the woman turned around, and I saw it was my wife.

The world around me made no sense for a long time as I could recall. My heart raced alarmingly fast; my feet seemed to be cemented beyond all conscious efforts to make the slightest stir and I felt a huge lump in my throat which was quite hard to swallow. As if a phantom had resurfaced and stood right in front to scare the living daylights out of me once again.

How is it possible?

Madhurima stood there with a somewhat similar expression too.

‘Hello, Mr.Banerjee, this is my patient who I cured of fourth stage cancer’, interrupted Dr. Gujral rising from the chair opposite Madhu’s and pointing in her direction. A burning sensation whizzed between my ears and my brain was about to explode.

Conspicuously, the scarf covering her tonsured head caught my eyes. The simplest of words failed to come out of my lips. Only helpless tears ran down copiously on both sides.

A powerful magnetic field seemed to be generated between us.

After what seemed ages, Madhu and I were found wrapped in each others’ arms with muffled sobs and occasional groans punctuating the terrific reunion.

‘I am sorry, Anirban. I came to know of my illness in January 2014 and couldn’t muster enough courage to face you. I was broken beyond repair when I realised I had no hopes of survival. Until I heard of my childhood friend, Aditya who is a well-known doctor and believes in taking risks and saving lives.

‘But it was a catch-22 situation for me and I wasn’t totally sure if I would live again’, she continued.

‘Why Madhu? Didn’t you, for once, feel like involving me in this journey of yours?’

‘I couldn’t think straight to connect any dot whatsoever then, except for one thing. I knew you were strong and at least the thought of losing me to an unknown cause would be any day more reasonable than the realisation of letting me slip into the jaws of death’, she replied.

‘So, where are you staying in Mumbai? What’s the status of your health now? How have you been all along?’ my curious mind didn’t know any stopping now.

‘Aditya has been too kind to support me through all of this. He not just cured me but also encouraged me eventually to fall in love with myself all over again’, came a hesitant reply.

‘And how about you, Anirban? What brings you to Mumbai?’ Madhu was quick to add.

‘Destiny, I suppose’, I smiled. And turned towards Dr. Gujral to thank him for the greatest gift one could have possibly given me on my birthday.

By now, the café door swung open and in walked Rohit running his fingers through his partially wet hair and unzipping his raincoat to place it on the peg in the corner.

He looked at the three of us as if a thief had been caught red-handed. Dr. Gujral did the needful to explain the whole affair to Rohit.

‘So what now, Mrs. Banerjee?’ inquired Dr. Gujral of Madhu.

‘Home is where the heart is, Aditya. Mumbai has given me more than I had desired. I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me. I want to go back home and start a family with Anirban’, replied Madhurima thoughtfully.

‘How about naming our daughter Alankrita, Mrs. Banerjee?’ I asked Madhu with a wink.

‘Shut up, that name was always my brainchild, okay? Yes, I still love that name by the way’, grinned Madhu with a gentle punch in my sides.

The next few hours were spent in amorous company with Rohit bringing in the birthday cake and celebrating an unanticipated joy against the glissading streams pouring down the panes of the café in a kaleidoscopic charm.

Madhu and I looked at each other with heavily moist eyes and a million unspoken messages being exchanged between the two of us.

‘Happy birthday, Anirban’, whispered Madhu, carefully lodging her fingers behind my left ear as she leaned forward to kiss me.

That was the moment. There lay my world – forever preserved. A pilgrimage blessed at last.

**********