The Reminder of Love

It had been almost a year since Ruhi had walked into the house with a boisterous flair like she usually did when visiting her grandpa. Growing up in that large house was like an adventure for little Ruhi; an adventure she happily shared with her older cousin, Raima. They'd say they are nothing less than siblings.

The swing set in the middle of the grand verandah still looked the same to Ruhi.

Without a moment of pause, she walked up to it and plopped herself onto the swing.

The wooden curves on the swing hadn't lost their glaze. They formed a cocoon-like basket above the swing and were specially ordered by her grandpa for the kids to rest while swinging.

It took her back to the day he had brought the swing set home. It had been a surprise!

When grandpa finally revealed the wooden structure, little Raima and Ruhi couldn't stop giggling. They refused to wait for those men to fix the set before they jumped into it, together, and brought down the house with squeals of pure joy.

"When did you arrive?"

Ruhi was stirred back to the present by her aunt. A wide grin spread across her face.

"Just a couple of minutes.

How have you been? I missed you so much!"

She sprinted off the swing and hugged her.

Overwhelmed by the hug, her aunt laughed and wrapped her arms around Ruhi.

"We missed you too!

You're too grown up to give us a call once in a while. Huh?"

Ruhi smiled sheepishly. "I know! But the work..." she trailed off as her aunt flicked her on her shoulder.

"Right. And which world are you saving Miss engineer?

Now come inside! All the guests have arrived and there is still so much to do."

She tugged along inside the house with her aunt, barely equipped for the tide of small talks and smiling and waving to come her way.

Grandpa had always been a ray of sunshine for the two young girls.

Lazy winter afternoons were Ruhi's favorite as a child. They'd huddle up on the folding-cot on the terrace beside grandpa. Grandma would be busy taking care of the chilies spread out for drying in the afternoon sun. Ruhi believed that the warmth of those afternoons solely belonged to the four of them. She would snuggle up to her grandpa and Raima would follow suit. Then grandpa would slowly peel oranges while retelling the story of the two great queens from a faraway land; like routine, their eyes would widen and their mouths open wide with wonder. Biting on the oranges, at the end of the story, Raima would invariably ask, "And they lived happily ever after?"

He would laugh. "Yes. Yes, they lived happily ever after!"

"I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the news!

Your grandfather was a good man. I'm so sorry."

Ruhi nodded and smiled as she passed through the crowd of well-wishers and grieving relatives and neighbors. Some of them stuck to the smile-and-nod but some dragged her into conversations.

"You look healthy. The job's been paying well then!" someone cracked himself up with that line as though he had just blurted out the winning punch-line in a comedy competition.

She joined in, ignoring the connotations. "Yes. Thank you. And thank you for coming. He always talked about you."

It fuelled the man to go into a story about her grandpa and then a rant about the society itself.

Nodding along, Ruhi looked around, searching for a few familiar faces.

She spotted her father refilling the snacks in one corner. His hair, completely grey, was parted carefully to hide the growing bald spot. She could see how her father has started to look more like his father with every passing year.

It was one day when she was six and Raima nine, that they had found out that there were no special days assigned for grandmas and grandpas like there were for mothers and fathers. Hence they started a new tradition.

On Father's Day, they'd write and star in a sketch, followed by a dedicated dance routine. The family often would sit together and watch the show, frequently showering the two kids with applause.

They would end with Raima giving a speech about the wonders of fathers and grandfathers in their world and Ruhi passing out the gifts they had crafted for the occasion.

Neel Da was quietly lending his shoulder to an old lady when Ruhi noticed him across the room. By the time she walked up to him, the lady had dried her eyes and left.

"Do you know who she is?" grinned Ruhi.

"I'm not sure.

She told me a story about going to school with Dadu. So maybe an old friend?!

Do you know who she is?"

Ruhi took a moment to think. Her grandpa had often narrated tales about his own childhood to them.

"Probably a second cousin."

Neel Da smiled at her.

"You have been missed."

"Of course!

And I see that you've been assigned to the guest duty" quipped Ruhi.

"I volunteered."

She put her hand over her open mouth, stupefied.

"Your karma must be sky-rocketing!"

They both broke into a hilarious fit.

It was only when a neighbor passed them a stare that they tried to regain their solemn selves.

Raima and Ruhi had always been each others' secret keepers. Even when they had been in the middle of seemingly inextricable feuds as cantankerous teenagers, no one could extract a tiny bit of chatter from either sister.

Ruhi remembered the first time Raima had mentioned a boyfriend.

A boyfriend!

It had blown her mind away. As a ten-year-old, of course she knew what a boyfriend was. She had grown up seeing plenty in movies and television shows.

But that didn't stop her from badgering her sister to spill out the details.

In stupid excitement, Raima would go on to tell her how they had met in a tuition class; how he would casually fix his glasses over his nose every time he smiled at her from the back of the class; how they had decided what life would look like for them ten years in the future, together.

The awe in Ruhi's eyes hadn't yet settled when Raima came back home crying one day, disowning love forever.

Ruhi wasn't a vicious kid, but in that instant, she vowed vengeance against the boy.

After years of wonderful romantic liaisons, Raima had found the partner who felt like home. Like usual when she had told Ruhi all about Neel, she could see the sparks in her words. Having met him later, she knew it was time she let go of her promise. Her sister had found The One!

"I'll let you get back to the guests, Neel Da."

She bent over herself and bowed courteously as one does before a grand exit.

He shook his head with a sigh.

"You should go look at the flowers in the other room once before the service begins."

Of all the people she expected to find in the room, she stopped to see Raima fixing the flower arrangements, her back to Ruhi.

It was Raima who had called her up a fortnight ago to break the news of his passing. They hadn't talked since then.

"Do you need any help?" Ruhi walked towards her hesitantly.

Raima turned, startled. She quickly changed it into a smile.

"Oh! Hi.

Did you just arrive? Did you have lunch yet?"

Ruhi stopped her, shaking her head.

"No. I'm fasting, for the service."

"Of course!" Raima looked sorry like she should have known her cousin, her sister, would be participating along with her at the service.

They reached out to each other for a quick hug.

"I heard you had some trouble getting back?"

Ruhi nodded. "There was a problem with the visa. But thank God, it all got sorted in the last minute and I am finally here for the service."

They looked at each other, neither knowing what to say next.

To cut through the budding silence, Ruhi looked around the room, stopping at the flowers.

"They look beautiful! Dadu would have loved these." She choked a little at the thought.

"I think so too." Raima struggled to keep herself from tearing up.

Bright yellow marigold pots were all around the terrace in their memories. Grandpa would wake up early every morning to water the plants. By the time he climbed down the stairs, the whole house would be busy, someone getting ready for work, someone getting an extra minute of sleep in the bathroom and someone crying about going to school regularly.

Grandpa would walk into the chaotic living room with a bunch of marigolds in his hands to set aside for the afternoon prayers. When he would help the girls with their breakfast or books or hair, his hands would smell of fresh marigold.

Even now, they can close their eyes and breathe in the scent of those fresh marigolds.

Raima turned to Ruhi again; this time her eyes were hiding her apprehension.

"Ruhi, I have to tell you something important.

Neel and I, we are planning on moving to Bangalore."

She paused for her sister to react.

Ruhi stared back, stupefied.

"They want me to work at the headquarters. It's a promotion!

Neel's company also has a branch in Bangalore so he has already applied for the transfer."

Ruhi cut her off. "So you guys are permanently going to settle in Bangalore?"

"Yes. I'll be reporting there next month. And Neel will follow soon after. It is a good opportunity."

Raima tried to give her sister time to process the news.

Ruhi's narrowed her eyes, taking a few steps away from Raima.

"You've had good opportunities before! What changed this time?

I think you should give it some more thought. Maybe

What about the family? They'll be crushed!"

There was a sudden bitterness in her voice.

Raima calmly stepped forward.

"We have been thinking about this for a couple of months now.

And they already know. But I asked them not to tell you.

You were not here. I didn't want anything to get lost in translation."

Ruhi nodded deliberately to show she was trying to comprehend this new development but there was a distance in the air.

"Okay. I understand. They must be offering you a giant load of money for you to leave the city. This family. All behind!"

"It's not about that. The job is really good - "

"Of course. You don't want to be stuck here."

"I'm not stuck. There's an opportunity and I'm just taking it."

Ruhi rolled her eyes.

"Alright. You don't need to explain anything to me.

Congratulations on the promotion! I'm really happy for you."

Raima was having none of it.

"Really? You're happy for me now?

Well, tell it to that frown you're absolutely not hiding!"

"I can frown. It's my face."

"You're such a child. Can you ever grow up?"

Raima was furious with her sister to the point of boiling over and crying.

She continued, "You can go study in another city and then take a job in an entirely different country but dare I have a good life and a good job!"

"Belgium is just for a few months. I'll eventually come back once the project gets over and you know that!" Ruhi couldn't help herself from shouting at her.

"Well, you were not here when he needed you. Not even when he died!"

Raima immediately regretted blurting out in fury.

The silence fell back into the room, interrupted by only Ruhi's soft weeping as she walked away.

"I hate you. I really do."

Unlike almost all other family events, the service started on time. Nobody had to look or call for the girls. They were silently sitting at their designated positions, beside each other, for the ceremony to start.

The framed picture of their grandpa, placed comfortably on his old armchair, made him a part of their prayers more than the actual chants did. During the ceremony, the incense sticks would exhaust themselves and it would fall upon the girls to light new ones on the stand near his photo.

They made sure to avoid each other in any way they could.

Sometimes, Ruhi would hear Raima sobbing, sometimes a gasp would escape from Ruhi as she tried hard to not think about what her sister had said.

She couldn't wait for the prayer to end so she could walk out of the room, away from her sister, the crowd of mourners and their chatters, and the glaring life-like picture of her grandfather.

The mango tree, older than either sister and a favorite of their grandpa's, still stood tall and wide in their backyard. Its branches had always been long and leafy, Ruhi remembered.

Their summer vacations were never complete without them grabbing ripe mangoes from the tree, from its branches spreading over a corner of the terrace, in the scorching afternoon heat.

Grandpa had a special stick crafted for the purpose. It had a piece of round netted basket tied securely at its head.

The girls were always tasked with shaking their branches so that when he would stretch out his arms and put the head of the stick under the mangoes, they would fall off branch and right into the basket.

They would always end up with more mangoes than the girls would have counted.

When Raima found her sister sitting quietly in their grandpa's room, she knocked on the door.

Ruhi's face was flushed with tears as she looked up.

Raima couldn't think of what to say. So she walked up to her and sat down on his bed, beside her. She put her arms around Ruhi.

"I'm really sorry Ruhi.

He loved you so much!

I miss him."

"Me too!"

She turned to her sister and broke down.

Raima patted her head and cried with her.