One of those pieces that was started in 2015 and finished in 2021! Read the inspiration behind this piece at the end.. Spoiler alert if you read it before finishing the piece!
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It was by all means, a very ordinary day. I was at my comfortable viewpoint looking out at the daily ongoings as I normally did. Perched upon the top of a small hill overlooking tens of other houses in the suburbs of a land so beloved to me, I definitely had the vantage point. I could look at the highway, which, over the years had transformed from a dwindling forest with muddy pathways into one of the busiest concrete streets with ever-changing designs of cars that got quieter and faster. It almost seemed unbelievable that an age would dawn when people would stop walking on the streets; fire sticks and lanterns would be replaced with something more brighter, something more fluorescent, that there would be no horse-drawn carriages that were decorated to mirror the opulence and vanity of the people sitting in them. May be the cars of today still spell out the status of the owner. But to an old man like me, virtually non-existent, with a mind that was formulated over a hundred summers ago and wisdom that was built painfully with time, the current society seems far less discriminatory.
I had stopped keeping tally of the days long ago, but nature, very eloquently, signaled the passage of time. I sensed it was a fresh spring morning. I could hear the cold stream gurgling between the rapidly thawing banks. The little yellow yarrows that brought out the scent of the soil had spurted all around my house except on the far left corner of the property where Mr. Pegs' artisan roof cast a long, intense shadow all year long. He was very apologetic about it as it was not his choice, even if it was magnanimous. His son had taken the liberty to design the house for him without his consent. I for one, had everything arranged to my satisfaction much ahead in time, so that nobody could tamper with my dignity and solace that I most desired. I knew I wasn't going to be able to command submissiveness with time but I wasn't going to give up my comfort, especially when it took me a great part of my life to be able to afford it. Being in the front lines of a battlefield had crushed my body, mind, and spirit for a while. But observing human stupidity from afar had made me realize that the inadvertent human actions towards self-destruction canceled out all the beautiful idiosyncrasies we possessed. It was a matter of time that this planet would lose all evidence of survival. Something one old invalid man couldn't control or change at will. Acceptance was a drug that worked miraculously in repairing a broken soul.
The sun had come out of hiding after a long, dull winter, allowing the early morning mist to settle down on the little yarrows by my feet. The morning cars hurried to the mines far down the street. And there seem to be a general lightness in the crisp yet slightly warm air. I was suddenly distracted by a little toddler who came running to my footsteps. She had managed to lose her warden for a few seconds. She looked at me and smiled with innocence that I had long forgotten. Her little fingers clutched the yarrows as roughly as spring air could and pulled them out. She was fascinated by those torn petals all over her fingers and stared hard at them. The young warden caught up with her and rebuked her for spoiling my yarrows. It wasn't necessary. I did not mind the little one's curiosity. Curiosity is after all the reason we survive today. She tottered off with a swing in her arms and a jump in her step. I couldn’t help but smile ruefully at the innocence childhood brings and takes away as it leaves.
The sun rose above the horizon. A young boy whom I had last seen just before the snow set in few months earlier, was getting off his cycle to clean and trim the newly sprouting grass in the neighborhood. You see, the residents in my neighborhood need help. All mute and helpless in our own ways, we need some company even if it is from a detached assistant who couldn't be more apathetic to our solitude. Solitude which stung more cruelly during winters. Few new residents amongst us had children and family visiting from time to time but mostly, for those old forgotten guns like me, these strangers who never talk to us became our family. It becomes more of a necessity than entertainment to watch people. So I was slightly more enthusiastic this week since there were a few I could recognize on the muddy roads that cut through the hill. The boy sneaked a look around to make sure he wouldn't get caught. He slowly took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it amateurishly. He coughed in the smoke that engulfed his head. I shook my head, a little disappointed. Those things aren't meant for young boys. But, I also found myself inadvertently caressing my knuckles where my grandmother's cane had struck eons ago after I was caught doing the exact same thing. I smiled sheepishly. Exploration and stepping out of boundaries is after all essential to understand oneself and the mechanisms of this world. The trick is to recognize the pitfalls and jump over in due time. I hoped that he will manage to jump across in time.
He quickly extinguished it as soon as he heard laughter that grew loud and resumed his work. Two young men were jogging and laughing about something. They whirred past my house without as much a glance in my direction. They had the air of everything going right in their lives. They were followed by a stout girl who bobbled up the hill, stopping short of my house to catch her breath. Atleast she didn't throw up on Mrs. Moldren's Hyacinths like yesterday. Her efforts were taking her a few steps further every day. She looked longingly at those two men who had outpaced her considerably. Was that a hint of disdain in her eyes? Jealousy? Guilt? Or may be all of it. I couldn't say if it was sweat or tears but she wiped her face and stood upright. Her face transformed as if to shun all those other emotions and her brows narrowed. She started running again. Ah! Perseverance. What's a life without some tenacity? Everything substantial I achieved in my life was with it. I smiled proudly. She shall surpass those men some day.
Go on, brave girl!
The morning passed quickly. Around mid-day, just as I began to sink into my early afternoon stupor, an expectant mother walked up with a small child in one of those new age bassinets breaking the mid-morning lull. She paced herself slowly as her husband (I can only assume) joined her with a big furry dog playfully tagging along. He seemed to show affluence through the well polished shoes that he didn't mind flourishing in the mud and a neatly pressed collared shirt. The woman brushed off the twig that was stuck in his well groomed hair. They briefly caught each others eye and smiled like they were aware of the world’s deepest secrets that no one else did. Ah, to have that kind of love in your life.. To have experienced the warmth of that one person who truly cared.. I had it once too, in the form of the maiden who assisted the healers. And I lost it to war. I found it again in the form of my daughter and lost it to time. The next time, I decided to find it within me and not surprisingly, I still have it. I smiled nostalgically.
I would normally take a nap around this time, but today, in between welcoming fresh spring and all that came with it, I missed my usual siesta. And in good measure. I saw little Stella Andrews come by that afternoon. Well, she wasn't little anymore. She leaned a lot more on her umbrella than the last time I saw her. Her father Baldwin Andrews was right down a few houses on the hill that led to my house. She visited him every month, ever since she was the fairest and daintiest maiden of her day. It was always nice when she walked past my place towards her father's. She would always run her fingers on the smooth walls of my house with sort of a concerned detachment. Over the years, her soft fingers had transformed like the petals of a flower do at the end of the day. Her eyes had transformed into these wise shells that seemed to hide several fascinating chapters of her existence. Her legs seemed to totter with every passing year until she couldn't separate herself from her umbrella. Her hair that once reflected the moon beams giving her a radiance hardly matched by anything else, now made her look wise. It often made me wonder how life might have treated her over the years. Of course, it wasn't my place to pry. Just to observe. That bittersweet period of life that is mixed with pride, regret, dwindling hope, and realization of wisdom. When things that matter become very apparent and one is left wondering why they did not understand this very rudimentary fact much earlier in life… I smile with some regret myself.
Chin up, dear Stella. That is the way it goes.
Suddenly, I heard that one sound. Of that one car. It was always the quietest of them all. It signified the arrival of someone new in the neighbourhood. It brought along the sound of muffled sniffles and coughs. The sound of well-polished boots, and of grief-torn relatives. The car stops and the entire party gets off of it. They accompany the newest tenant of our land up the hill. As they walk past behind my house, I catch a glimpse. I lock eyes with the tiny woman being carried by 4 sturdy men. She looked scared but strangely calm. Like she knew this was coming and maybe even looking forward to it. It seemed like she had welcomed this change with open arms but she was still apprehensive about her future from here on. I wanted to tell her that it would be alright. That she had joined a very resilient, immovable part of existence. She had joined the mute spectators of the moving world, where we were free to look, judge, reminisce from the comforts of our own homes. Ofcourse, we were not allowed to interfere with the moving world. This was a place, where wisdom gained because of our stagnant nature of existence was abundant but couldn’t be shared. A world that was presumed to be non-existent by the moving lot. It was a world filled with a strange sense of peace and calm born out of utter helplessness. A place where thousands like me woke up, watched what they could, and went back to sleep every day. Silently. She really wouldn’t have any responsibilities. She would need no food and get no diseases. We had no function, no contribution. Most of our lives lived outside this neighbourhood will be soon forgotten, if it already isn’t. So will hers.
I wasn’t sure she would get a vantage point as good as mine, but I hoped to be able to look at her time and again to reassure her. By the time the old lady settled into her new place about 50 meters to my right, the sun had begun to say his goodbye for the day. A crescent moon was arriving out of the murky clouds ready to take over as the guard of the skies. The sniffling relatives take leave and she is finally alone. She was looking around her new home and getting comfortable in her bed. I did not try to catch her attention again. I have an eternity to do so anyway!
I look around close to me and saw Pegs, Willard, Moldren, Andrews, Ainsley, Eaton all looking at the same new neighbour of ours. I wonder if they saw what I saw earlier in the day too. I wonder if they saw their own living selves in the cast of today’s show. I catch Dr. Eaton’s eye and looks like she had the same question for me.
I smile mutely at my fellow spectator, close my eyes, and settle down for the night in my home, in the shadows, in my so-called grave.
aeroyogi
29 / 04 / 2021
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So, while I lived in New York, my apartment was right behind a beautiful, age-old cemetery. I often went on walks or unsuccessful runs in this cemetery and built a new habit of reading the names on the tombstones. The names I mention here were from that cemetery. Some of them have been resting there since the 1800s. It was fascinating in a way to think of all the lives led, of all the triumphs, the misses... It felt like they were watching me. (Thanks to YH who was a firm believer in ghosts and said it out loud every time we went for a walk!) Perhaps, if they indeed 'lived', they must have had so many observations and stories to tell.. Just an attempt to capture the milestones of a lifetime through the eyes of one old gentleman. Though I knew the storyline on this one, it took me several attempts to get it through on paper. Still feels like it is missing something. Feedback welcome!
