The Unremembered Love

He is in his deep sleep. The quilt was all over him. The wind is making its way from the broken windowpane. Wind chimes are tolling loud, stealing the silence of the space. The room is empty except a floor bed, a cupboard, a study table, a lamp, some papers, an unsealed pen and a key hanged through a hook in a corner of the room.

‘Sahab’. ‘Sahab’, said the servant, Bhola.

He responded with a ‘hmm’ and languidly put his face in his cozy cushion, which is thread-crafted with, ‘You write so well! Mr. Writer’.

‘Sahab, it is at the door’, said Bhola.

‘What?’, said Mr. Shukla. The wall in front of him had a date mentioned 17th October.

‘What’s the date?’, asked Anagha.

‘8 Jan’, answered Bhola.

‘Get it to me’.

‘Ji Sahab’, said Bhola reluctantly.

Bhola couldn’t move as in his feet froze with some unknown fear.

‘What happened? Get it for me now’.

‘Sahab’.

‘Bhola’, ordered Mr.Shukla.

Bhola unwillingly went to the door, cautiously took it from there while looking around and closed the door on his back cursing his destiny.

‘Sahab’, said Bhola by putting it on the table.

‘AA-ha’, said Mr. Shukla while pulling himself out of the comfort of quilt. ‘You can go now bhola’.

Bhola left the room while mumbling hanuman chalisa under his breath.

Mr. Shukla looked at it and said,’ another gift’.

‘It adds up to the count of 1..2 3 4 5 6 7…and 8. Great. I just received my 8th gift on the 8th day of the month’. Mr. Shukla chuckled away his own thought. He unwrapped the gift eagerly.

‘Wow, I would look awesome in this’, grinned Mr.Shukla. ‘The thing is, who the hell could gift me such beautiful dresses every year on such a precisely wrong day, Poor friend'.

‘Oh, there’s a note for me ‘. 'All Pinkish again!' 'You think there is some girl living in his house, my friend', thinks aloud Anagha.

The note said:

Love & Romance Boutique

111, Race Course Road

Bangalore 560 001, India

www.love&romanceboutique.com

12 Aug,2016

Dear,

A very happy birthday to you. This is a beautiful gift from your beloved soul mate.

We hope you like it. Have a nice day

..............We care, Your love

Contact Us: [phone]

*********************

‘Who the hell is this soul mate’, laughed Mr.Shukla. Sorry, I have no phone to call you and the internet finds no route here.

He folded the note as usual and put it back in that tuck-topped gift box.’ This is your place’, said Mr. Shukla by putting it with the others. He then walked to the window and took a pleasant view of the early morning. The porch beyond the padlocked window is dust mounted and he could see no-one except some sheep grazing down the blubbery grass.

He, a few minutes later, went to the cupboard and opened it to took a towel out of a bunch of others. He caught a whiff of it and hold the breath for a while.’ Lovely’, said he. This shouldn’t be used.

He kept that towel back in the cupboard and took the other one which didn’t have that aroma.

‘The Pill’. ‘How can I forget that?’. ‘Take two tabs a day to treat mild to moderate dementia caused by Alzheimer’s disease’, read Mr. Shukla.

‘Who am I?, Where am I?’ laughed Mr. Shukla talking to himself. He popped the pill into his mouth followed by a gulp of water.

‘Bhola, where are my trousers?’, called Mr. Shukla and began to walk down to the hallway.

‘Bhola is making tea for me’.

Mr. Shukla looked at him for a while and asked,’ Who are you?, How can I help you Mr.?’.

The man left the couch and hugged Mr. Shukla.’ You idiot!’, murmured the man.

Mr. Shukla felt something familiar but wasn’t sure what was that.

‘Actually, Do I know you?’, asked Mr. Shukla and tried getting himself out of that tight hug.

‘You idiot! Why don’t you look for some other medicine?’, said the man.

‘Stop calling me that’. An irritated Mr. Shukla called for his servant.

‘Who is he?’, asked Mr. Shukla as the servant arrived.

‘He is your brother’, answered Bhola.

‘Elder’, said the man.

‘I have a brother’, said Mr. Shukla.

‘A mother and a father too. We visited you a month ago. Don’t you remember that?’, replied his brother.

Mr. Shukla was both amazed and frightened to listen that he has a family. The question came to his mind was, ‘Why the hell am I living in such a lonely place if I have a family?’.

‘So, Why am I living in this place?’, inquired Mr. Shukla.

‘It is what you want, son’, said the brother.

‘I what? You must be kidding’, said Mr. Shukla. ‘Why would I want that?’.

‘Leave it, for now, Let’s go for a walk. I have got some good clothes for you, put them on’, said the brother.

‘No, I want my answers now’, said Mr. Shukla.

‘You’ve not changed a-lot much son, still stubborn like a kid’, said the brother.

Mr. Shukla looked at his brother with a tear falling down her left eye. He suddenly felt that kid in himself. He ran to his brother and hugged him as tight as he could.

‘I am so alone’, sobbed Mr. Shukla. ‘Why am I here?’, ‘Who am I?’, ‘What is my past?’.

‘I’ll tell you, everything son. First, go and change these clothes. These stinks like hell’, winked the brother.

Mr. Shukla grinned like that after a month.’ Please, wait till I bath’, said Mr. Shukla while wiping his tears out.

“Please”, Ahaa! etiquette mocked the brother.

Mr. Shukla smiled back at his brother and went for the bath. Meanwhile, the brother asked the servant about Mr. Shukla’s health and about his diet schedule.

‘I’m ready’, said Mr. Shukla blissfully.

‘Perfect! You handsome guy’, winked the brother. Mr. Shukla smiled back at him.

‘Where are we going?’, asked Mr. Shukla.

‘Sshh… Just come with me’, said the brother.

Mr. Shukla and his brother walked along the lone place amidst some hazy mountains. All the way down to places, Mr. Shukla was trying to catch up to his brother’s memory of them doing things. He momentarily closed his eyes and tried remembering the things but he could see no light from the past.

‘So, who am I?’, asked Mr. Shukla.

‘Let’s go there first’, replied the brother.

Mr. Shukla had no better thing to do than to follow his brother.

They reached a peak of some grassy mountain and settled down a bit before making the moist grass their bed.

‘That was fun’, said the brother, panting.

‘Yes, it was’, replied Mr. Shukla, stuck in fear of listening what next to follow.

‘So’, said Mr. Shukla.

‘So, what?’, asked the brother.

Mr. Shukla gave his brother a peevish look.

‘Oh, Sorry. You are a Writer my sweet brother’, said the brother.

‘Writer?’, said Mr. Shukla while thinking about the note he saw on the cushion this morning. ‘You write so well! Mr. Writer’.

The brother continued, ‘You’ve written several novels and some are still the all-time best selling. You were a crazy writer. People loved your novels. You wrote about love, mystery, mythology, sci-fiction, and others with a pinch of humor in all of them. You did great’. The brother paused and said,’ with a capital g’.

‘So, when did I get this Alzheimer?’, asked Mr. Shukla. And what is my name?.

‘Anagha, pure and innocent’.

‘Anagha’, uttered Mr. Shukla.

‘I don’t know how did you get that disease. Mom noticed that thing. At first, she thought this is due to some stress or something. But then you started to forget things unusually and one day soon she saw you taking some pills for that. She was really worried and then we looked about the pills on the internet. Those were for Alzheimer’s disease. But, then suddenly you decided to move on to this place leaving all of us alone….

‘Wait! I decided to move on. But why?’, asked Mr. Shukla.

‘I don’t know, It was just because of her’.

‘Her? whom?’.

‘No-one. Leave it’.

‘No! tell me please’.

‘I really don’t know who she was. I just know that you loved her insanely. You were mad about her. You used to make notes of everything she says to you. Your room was full of those notes. You were happy. We were happy to see you in love. But…’. the brother paused.

‘What?’, urged Mr. Shukla.

‘She left you. She was gone. She took away with her your smile. You used to lock yourself up in your room for hours without food and water. You were going mad my son’, said the brother trying to control over the stuttering caused due to the outflow of his emotions.

‘Who was she… Who was she?’, sobbed Mr. Shukla. ‘Tell me more about her, please’.

‘I know nothing about her’, replied the brother.

‘You must have some pictures of her.. show me’.

‘I have no pictures of her. I don’t even know her name’.’ You have locked all her memories in a room of your house’, said the brother.

‘Take me to the house, please’, urged Mr. Shukla.

‘It’s of no use my son’. It’s locked with a code’.

‘What code?’, asked Mr. Shukla.

‘I don’t know. Moreover, the room is supposed to explode if you try opening it forcefully’, stated the brother.

‘Explode. Why?’.

‘I don’t have any idea but, this is what the caution note on the door of the room says’.