The Interrupted Melody

                                 The sprawling branches over-hanging the quaint cottage were covered with clusters of small red and white flowers which swayed in perfect rhythm with every passing wind. A few yellow leaves floated hesitantly in the air and landed softly on the coarsely thatched roof of the cottage. It gave it the appearance of a hand-woven carpet. Besides, the bamboo structure enhanced its beauty by imparting a rustic look.

               Francis looked at his garden with great satisfaction and took a deep breath. The fragrance of the roses was intoxicating. His silvery unruly hair got ruffled up in the breeze and he tried to put them in place with a stroke of his hand. Though at his age other men would have had thinning hair, his rippling hair looked very becoming when the silver in them caught the sunlight. He had weathered eighty-odd years and his once muscular figure had now atrophied. But anyone looking at him would have still called him handsome---tall and straight, like the date palms in his garden and a complexion which betrayed his English blood.

                     He screwed up his eyes to have a better look at the sky. There were a few scattered vultures skimming the sky but in the distance, they had become mere specks. On the other hand, such was not the case in his own life. Distance magnified his regrets, for his thoughts had taken him back half a century and now he realized the follies of his lifetime and the immaturity of his decisions. The years had dwindled into nothingness and could never be retrieved. He sighed again and again in abject dejection as the last chapter of his unfulfilled life had nearly come to the very barren end.

                   He remembered his school days. He used to go to the non-descriptive village school run by an aged pastor. There were in total about fifty students--- Sheila was one of them. She used to come from quite a distance, across the river. As she was invariably late for class, she used to miss a few Mathematics classes. Then she would ask Francis for help. As he was also not too strong in Bengali, she would help him in the subject. Gradually they became very close friends like two blossoming buds on the same branch.

                       They grew up together, from childhood to adulthood, as close comrades, happy in their friendship, not knowing when they had slipped into the awareness of each, as man and woman.

                         Francis admired her immensely. Sheila was a Hindu by religion. He was a Catholic but that difference had never struck either of them. It was as if their souls were entwined together. She had grown to be very attractive and elegant. The long upturned lashes outlined her large innocent eyes which would twinkle and sparkle when she spoke in an animated way, and often she would rush through her words without even pausing to take a breath. She was fun-loving and brimming with exuberance. Francis loved all this in her but what amazed him was her character. Though she was not a Catholic, it seemed to him that she was the one who was a true follower of Christ. Her principles of life were so exalted that Francis admired her more and more day by day. It seemed to him that an angel had literally stepped into the world, such was his estimate of her!

                     When he proposed to her in a very matter-of-fact way, as if it were a foregone conclusion, Sheila being the practical one, replied that they could never get married as the Catholic Church would not allow a mixed marriage. Though he had known this, he always believed that “if there is a will, there is a way”. He would overcome all obstacles just to make her his wife.

                 He approached the Parish Priest. He said that they could only get married to Papal Dispensation but the proviso was that the girl would have to get converted after some time and the children from the marriage would have to be baptized Catholics. This became an insurmountable issue. Sheila being too strict in her delineation between what was right and what was wrong, would not agree to the terms. She was adamant. She said that the terms were unacceptable and would not budge. How was the religion of an unborn child, who had not even seen the sunlight, be selected and determined by his parents? It's only when a child can think and reason that he should decide about his own religion. One soul has no right to bind another in his relationship with God, not even his parents. Francis tried his best to convince Sheila but she would not yield. As for the wife getting converted, she argued that how did any religion expect, in this case Catholicism that a person should give up her own religion for the sake of getting married to another of a different faith? Are not the different religions, different paths to the same God? In an emphatic refusal she sealed the chapter.

                  Francis was in a fix. He did not know how to resolve this intractable problem. He wracked his brain morning, noon and night. His own conscience would prick him if he did not comply with the rules of the Church. On the other hand, he could not ask Sheila to go against her conscience. He could have never imagined that religion would become such a massive barrier between them. An unbridgeable chasm existed between them now and it made him nearly demented with anxiety and uncertainty.

                    Then he had a brain wave. He told Sheila that the only solution was that they would not have children. So there would be no question of baptizing the children. As for Sheila’s becoming a Catholic, it could wait, if only she was prepared, then it would follow. In the meantime, they should tie the knot. Sheila was only too happy to agree. So it happened one beautiful spring morning Francis and Sheila, radiant with happiness, pronounced the solemn vow “for better or for worse till death do us apart.”

                      Life for them now became just love and ecstasy. Like two kittens in a world of their own, they enjoyed each other’s company. When Francis pretending to be a waiter brought a tray with Sheila’s bed tea, they would be in splits of laughter. Then he would insist on making breakfast for her and they would both eat with relish, burnt toast, and leathery scrambled eggs. Whatever they did together was simply unalloyed fun.

                   He remembered how for her first birthday after their marriage he wanted to give her a surprise. In utter secrecy, he had baked a cake with yummy chocolate-icing with professional finesse. But after he had serenaded to her for her birthday in his best Elvis Presley rendition, and Sheila had blown the candle with gusto, the cake proved to be impregnable! She tried to cut it with all her might, but it defied every attempt, to be stored in the refrigerator for the next birthday! Perhaps it would soften with time!

                      But what man proposes, God disposes. So it happened in their case too. Sheila gave birth to a chubby, chuckling baby. Now their beautiful world came toppling down and disintegrated into a heap of dust. Cold Principles and stark Religion crushed and devastated the lives of three of God’s creations made of flesh and blood, capable of feeling the cruel pangs of the impact of the meaningless clash.

               Friends had been invited for the Baptism. They were all assembled in the Church. The priest anointed the baby’s head. There were smiles on everyone’s face. The baby seemed to be happy too for he gave out a loud gurgling sound, chuckled and flung his legs and hands. Each one assembled there took turns to take the baby in his arms. Sheila also took the child and the baby held onto her and the tiny fingers clasped her finger in a tight grip. Then Sheila gave Francis a long meaningful look, her long lashes did not flicker, her large innocent eyes did not waver, but her voice seemed to tremble. She whispered into Francis’s ears, “I am leaving forever---ask your mother to come and take charge. You got your son baptized so that your conscience would not prick you and I am leaving as my conscience tells me to.”

                       Francis stood there as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. He became ashen white. He stared in disbelief and amazement. Was Sheila, his most loved wife leaving him and going away for good! Was this the Angel whom he had put on a pedestal! How could she be so cruel as to leave her new-born baby and forget her duties as a mother! Did she not have any maternal instinct! His whole being wanted to hold her back, to plead with her not to leave, but no, he would not ask that of a heartless robot! She was like a cold marble Goddess, fossilized in principles, incapable of feeling and unable to bend!

                      Life went on, days came and went past. The child grew up like a weed without a mother’s love and care. Often the child would ask about his mother. But Francis would tell him she was dead. The boy, or Tim, as he was called, started to show behavioral problems. He could not accept the fact that all his school friends had their mothers to go home to but he had no one. As he grew up, he became a rebel, and defied all discipline. Francis looked on helplessly. He had no one to share with him his heart-aches or a “comrade” to help him to pull through life’s problems. Gradually Tim stopped coming home in the evenings. Sometimes he would not be back till very late in the night. All Francis’s apprehensions seemed to become a reality. He surmised that his son had taken to wrong company and wrongdoings! Francis would sit up till Tim came home, for such was his anxiety.

                      Now as he stood in his garden recalling every sad incident of the past, Tim arrived. He looked happier than usual. “Happy Birthday Papa” he wished his father and then added, “I have a gift for you”! With that, he called out to someone. “This is Nilofer Papa, we will get married soon. I know you will be happy but the only hitch is that she is a Muslim and she has asked me to get converted to their religion”.

                            The shock was so profound that it could have decimated Francis. Just so, that Tim could be a Catholic he had sacrificed a life time of happiness and now his son was telling him he would become a Muslim! This was an absurd turn of events! His head reeled and his vision blurred with non-defined emotions. Then an after-thought came to his mind. How did Tim come to know that it was his birthday? He had not told a soul; neither had he ever celebrated his birthday after Sheila had left.

                           Francis then inquired of Tim how he had gathered the information that it was his birthday. His son realized then that unintentionally he had divulged a big secret. As it was now too late, he had already let ‘the cat out of the bag’, he felt he had to let the kittens out too!

        Hesitantly but in detail, Tim unfolded the events which he had not let his father know earlier thinking that his father would be angry. Francis heard the pathetic story of a child left floundering and doddering in helpless insecurity. Tim always yearned for his mother. Though every time his father told him she was dead with an expressionless face, with no further detail, he knew he was not getting the correct information. He felt cheated and deprived. He also had the right to have his mother with him like the other children and his whole being rebelled against the situation and he rejected his father.        

 Then he started making inquiries. He found out who his mother was and where she lived. The rest was simple. He went to visit her and his mother and he became close friends. He understood her, how she had sacrificed her whole life because she loved his father to such an extent that she did not want to come in between his conscience and him. Every evening he used to go over to her place and quench his thirst for a mother’s love. He also told his father how repentant she was for having been instrumental for causing so much suffering for him and how deeply she loved Francis.

                  Francis, on hearing what his son said could not wait a moment longer. He rushed to Sheila, his very own Sheila, to claim her back. He had wasted all his life and hers but now every second was invaluable. He could not get over the perversity of fortune. According to the modified Canon Laws of the Church, Sheila was now not required to get converted. Besides Tim himself had decided on following another religion. All his sacrifices and hers seemed to be a mere farce.

               After he had reached, he went into the cottage noiselessly so as not to give Sheila a fatal shock. Would she be able to withstand the sudden unannounced appearance of Francis after so many years! She was reclining in an easy chair, her head thrown back, her hair tousled, her eyes closed and her frail hand resting on her head. She was listening intently to some soft music, her face lined, betraying years of callous neglect.

                    Very gently she approached her. Softly he called out her name. Immediately she sprang up like a spring toy and stared at him incredulously. Francis caught her in his arms and pressed her close to his bosom if only he could press her even closer! She clung on to him in a tight embrace and it seemed to the couple that the ecstasy of the moment was so intense, so pure, so concentrated that it outdid the emptiness of the years. Hand in hand they walked out, throbbing with tenderness and deep emotions to live in close intimacy for perhaps another twenty years.