Where she belongs!

It had gone rotten in the end. She stood there, where bright lights had been before. She surveyed the rows of empty seats, remembering the days when the auditorium used to be fully occupied. I remember seeing her there, on stage, for the first time, that day. I was in the 'Second row, third seat'. When she had come on stage, I had stood up to clap. Somebody beside me had silenced me, asking me to sit down. She had given me a faint smile, before walking towards the microphone. The smile that had made a beginning. I remembered. I smiled to myself, then.

She walked to the centre, where the microphones used to stand. Stood there, remembering the days. She extended her hand as if to touch an imaginary microphone. Her hands trembled. A tear escaped her eye. She made no effort to wipe it. She noticed me sitting at the back, silently watching her. She gave me a faint, assuring smile, as if telling me, 'everything is going to be alright'. I smiled back at her. I wasn't sure whether she could see me. I just smiled back anyway. I knew she would be able to feel the smile. I knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again. She probably did not know that yet. Or may be, she knew.

I heard some noise and turned back to see some guy, walking with quick steps towards the stage. He didn't see me. He walked towards the stage, shouting, as he neared, 'Who's there? This is an auditorium, ma'am. You can't just barge in here.' He stopped as if to look at her, or probably he was waiting for an answer. But quickly added 'What business do you have, here?'. His voice was gruff, probably due to too much shouting, I thought. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it again. She looked so vulnerable there, standing there, alone. So vulnerable in a place which had been her temple, her battle field. She had worshipped there, won there, lived her life there. Everything had changed now.

I got up from my chair, the sudden noise made that guy turn towards me. I was right in thinking that he hadn't seen me before. He said 'Saab jee! Who are you? And now what are you doing here?'. I had reached near her, by then. Her eyes, pleaded me for help. I replied to the man, 'We just came to look, bhaiyya jee! We will be leaving'. To which, he replied, 'Saab, this is no monument for you to come and visit like this. I am the caretaker of this place for the past twenty years. I will be responsible if anything goes wrong here.' He had moved closer to where we stood now. He had been addressing me all this while. Now, he looked at her. He looked and he moved closer. He stared.

'Madam jee! Aap! It's you. I can't believe it.' He took her hand, and shook it vigourously and said 'Big fan, madamjee. Big fan. I have heard so many singers on this stage. Not one as good as you madam.' I slowly wiped the tears off her face and put a firm hand on her shoulder. She whispered a weak thank you to that man. He continued 'Madam jee! This is your home. You can stay here, for a few more hours and look around. I won't tell anybody.' On hearing these words, she freed herself from my grasp, walking away towards the seats in the auditorium, slowly, nostalgic, recollecting everything.

The man, was still standing beside me. We were both looking at her. I had tears in my eyes, seeing her this way. The man, turned as if to say something. But then he stopped, noticing the tears in my eyes. He said, 'Saab jee! What is wrong? What happened ? And why do you have tears in your eyes?'. He knew he was prying. But he was a 'fan, big fan'. I said ' She lost her voice after an accident. Things aren't the same as before. She can't even talk properly, let alone sing'. I couldn't bear to look back at his face at that moment. Saying it out loud like this, had triggered some emotion in me, something I had tried to suppress. I looked back at the man's face. He looked devastated, crestfallen. He looked at her, and then at me, in despair. He shook his head as if, in utter disbelief. As he turned back to look at her, I followed his line of sight.

There she was, sitting in the second row, second seat, with a smile on her face. She patted the seat next to her, asking me to come, with a nod of her head. Puzzled, I walked over to her, and sat down. Second row, third seat. Then, I realized, she was trying to tell me something. In a weak whisper she said, 'Thank you for having been here, that day. Thank you for being here now.'

Forgotten!

She walked down the stairs, slowly, one at a time. Her rheumatism seemed to be bothering her yet again. Nevertheless, she managed to climb down, trying not to think how difficult it would be to get back up the stairs. But yes, it was always there at the back of her mind. It would be an ordeal, she knew. As always, she counted the stairs, noticed all the stains on the stairs here and there. The stains were the same, always there, since she had moved into that small hole of an apartment. She saw some new stains here and there, wondering about their origins. It was the rheumatic old woman's pastime while slowly climbing down the stairs. Us, we wouldn't understand it.

It had been quite a while since she had gone through this exercise of venturing out of her house. She never preferred calling that place a home. She knew she had deserved better. Well, life wasn't always fair. She knew it. Oh! How well she knew it. A sigh of despair escaped her lips. The past flashed in front of her eyes. Her eyes welled up. She looked around. She had reached the verandah of the building, a dreary, dull place with very little lighting. She moved towards the door, hoping to catch a few warm rays of the sun.

The door was slightly ajar and she pushed it wide open with her shivering hands. There was a blast of dust due to a passing vehicle, and the Sun's rays seemed to hit her harshly, hurting her eyes, skin all of a sudden. She reacted, withdrawing back one step. But then, she did move on. This was important. The work had to be done. The shop was right across the street. Some little kid helped her cross it, and she thanked him and walked into the shop.

The shopkeeper looked at her, and took out an envelope. On the envelope, he had written '35/-'. She counted the money slowly and handed it over to him and then gave the young man a smile. She turned to leave, but the shopkeeper placed a hand on her shoulders to stop her.
He said, 'Grandma, can I ask you something personal? it's about those photos'. She smiled at his curiosity and said 'Do ask, young man. I was expecting the questions'. In reply, he asked 'These photos, they are wonderful. They are her very personal photos. Aren't they? Each one more beautiful than the previous. Her fans would give anything to have them in their personal collection'. Her face seemed to register some surprise, and she said 'Is that true? Would people buy these photos?'. The shopkeeper said, 'Yes, of course. They would get you a lot of money. Would you like to sell them? I could help you do it'.

She thought for a few moments and put the envelope back on his table. 'Sell them' she said. 'I need the money'. The shopkeeper happily put the photos back in his desk drawer and said 'I myself would like to buy one. My father was a big fan. It would be a great gift. I will get it framed....' and he got lost in thought, probably thinking of his father's reaction to that gift. He immediately pulled out 200/- and handed it over to her, saying 'I just bought two of those photos'. She smiled and took the money, fumbling with her purse's zip, trying to put the money inside.

And then, he finally asked, 'Grandma, I am curious. How did you get hold of these beautiful pictures? Were you a friend of hers?'. In reply, she said 'Yes. Her best friend. Probably the only one she ever had' and smiled at him. He just wouldn't stop his barrage of questions and went on. 'Do you know where she is, these days?'. The old woman just smiled and said, 'These days, people just don't see well enough, they do not really observe. You wouldn't know if she were standing right here in front of you'. It wasn't a taunt, it wasn't said in anger, just a statement, made with a smile. As she turned to walk away, she said, 'Please send me the money to that first floor apartment you see over there. Walking till here, is such an ordeal for me...'. Her voice trailed off as she walked away, muttering something. The young man stared at her, as realization dawned. His eyes welled up. But he had no time for tears then. His next customer had arrived. He had work to do.