The Call of the Past

It was a balmy March evening in Udaipur. The sun had set behind the Aravalli Hills, leaving a faint amber glow in the sky. In the corner of the drawing room of the Rathore haveli, an old rotary phone sat on a side table. Once the lifeline of the household, the phone was now a relic, rarely used since the rise of mobile phones. Madhavi Rathore sat by the window, a cup of chai growing cold in her hands.

Her day at the hospital had been long, and the weight of unsaid words and unresolved memories hung heavy in her chest. As a doctor in the local government hospital, she had no shortage of distractions. Yet, some days, the past refused to stay buried.

The phone’s shrill ring cut through the silence. Madhavi jumped, her cup rattling on the saucer. The sound startled her—it had been weeks since anyone called the landline.

She hesitated before picking up the receiver, her fingers trembling slightly.

“Hello?” she said, her voice cautious.

There was a pause.

“Madhavi?” came a voice.

Her breath hitched. She hadn’t heard that voice in eight years, but she’d never forgotten it. “Arjun?”

Arjun: (softly) It’s me.

Madhavi: (stammering) How—how did you get this number?

Arjun: (with a faint chuckle) Sakshi gave it to me. She said it was high time we talked.

Madhavi leaned against the wall, gripping the phone tighter. Sakshi, her childhood friend, had always been a meddler, though Madhavi couldn’t deny she had a point.

Madhavi: (nervously) Sakshi always had a way of... intervening.

Arjun: (with a smile in his voice) That’s one word for it.

The line crackled slightly, a reminder of the outdated connection, but neither seemed to mind.

Arjun: (after a pause) How are you, Madhavi?

Madhavi: (softly) I’m... fine. And you?

Arjun: (with a sigh) I’ve been better. Coming back to Udaipur stirred up memories I thought I’d buried.

Madhavi’s heart skipped a beat. She could picture him as clearly as if he were standing in front of her—his sharp features, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams, his lopsided smile that had once been her weakness.

Madhavi: (hesitant) You’re back in Udaipur?

Arjun: (gently) Just for a project. I’m designing a cultural center near the lake. It’s temporary, but...

He trailed off, and Madhavi knew what he wasn’t saying. Being back in their hometown wasn’t easy for either of them.

Arjun: (after a pause) I heard you’re still here, working at the hospital.

Madhavi: (nodding, though he couldn’t see her) Yes. I never left.

Arjun: (quietly) Why not?

Madhavi turned toward the window, the glow of the streetlamps casting shadows on the floor. It was a question she’d asked herself countless times.

Madhavi: (after a pause) I thought about it. Moving to Delhi or Mumbai. But... it never felt right.

Arjun: (gently) Or maybe you were afraid to leave what was familiar.

His words hit closer to home than she cared to admit.

Madhavi: (defensive) It wasn’t fear. My family needed me here.

Arjun: (with a hint of bitterness) Your family always needed you, didn’t they? And you always put them first.

The words stung, but they weren’t untrue.

Madhavi: (softly) I thought I was doing the right thing.

Arjun: (gently) And now? Do you still think that?

Madhavi didn’t answer immediately. She looked at the framed photograph on the wall—a younger version of herself, standing with her parents and her younger brother, Pranav. They had been her world. After her father’s unexpected death, she had taken it upon herself to keep the family together.

Madhavi: (whispers) I don’t know.

The silence on the line stretched, filled with the weight of unspoken words. Finally, Arjun broke it.

Arjun: Do you ever think about us, Madhavi?

Her fingers tightened around the receiver.

Madhavi: (deflecting) Arjun, it’s been eight years. We’ve both moved on.

Arjun: (firmly) Have we?

Madhavi closed her eyes, willing herself to stay composed. But his voice, low and steady, stirred feelings she thought she’d buried.

Madhavi: (softly) Why are you calling me, Arjun?

Arjun: (earnestly) Because I can’t stop thinking about you.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Madhavi: (whispers) Arjun...

Arjun: (interrupting) I’ve tried, Madhavi. I’ve tried to forget you, to move on, but I can’t. Coming back here, seeing the places we used to go, it’s like I’m being haunted.

Madhavi’s mind flashed to the moments they’d shared—the evenings by the lake, the long walks through the bazaars, the quiet conversations under the stars. They had been young and full of dreams, but reality had shattered their idyll.

Madhavi: (tearfully) It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Arjun: (gently) Then why did it end?

She hesitated, memories rushing back. Her family’s objections, their insistence that Arjun wasn’t “stable” enough, that she deserved someone with a more secure future. She had tried to argue, but in the end, she had caved to their pressure.

Madhavi: (whispers) I thought I was doing the right thing.

Arjun: (softly) And do you regret it?

Her voice trembled.

Madhavi: (quietly) Every day.

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Arjun let out a shaky breath.

Arjun: (gently) Madhavi, I’m not calling to dredge up old wounds. I just... I needed to know if there was still something between us.

Madhavi: (tearfully) There’s always been something, Arjun. But it’s not that simple. My family still holds certain expectations—

Arjun: (cutting her off) Forget their expectations, Madhavi. What about you? What do you want?

Her heart raced. She had spent so long putting others’ needs before her own that the question felt almost foreign.

Madhavi: (barely audible) I don’t know.

Arjun: (earnestly) Then let’s figure it out together.

She didn’t respond immediately, her mind racing. Could she really allow herself to hope, after all these years?

Madhavi: (hesitant) Arjun, I don’t know if I can do this.

Arjun: (gently) You don’t have to decide now. Just... think about it.

I’m staying at Sakshi’s place for a few more days. Come see me.

Madhavi bit her lip, torn between fear and longing.

Madhavi: (after a pause) I’ll think about it.

Arjun: (smiling faintly) That’s all I ask.

They sat in silence for a moment, neither wanting to end the call. Finally, Madhavi spoke.

Madhavi: (softly) Arjun?

Arjun: Yes?

Madhavi: (whispers) Thank you. For calling.

Arjun: (gently) I’ll always be here, Madhavi. Whenever you’re ready.

The line clicked, and Madhavi set the receiver down with trembling hands. She leaned back in her chair, tears streaming down her face, but for the first time in years, her heart felt lighter.

Outside, the night deepened, and the faint hum of a scooter echoed in the distance. In that quiet moment, Madhavi allowed herself a sliver of hope—that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late.