Happy Homecoming

Often, as a six year old, your mother would catch you standing on a plastic chair you somehow managed to drag all the way to the kitchen. You’d be jumping like a monkey for that tantalising jar of cookies. More horrifyingly, your mask would be lying on the floor, abandoned, for you deemed it a hindrance in your quest to reach the treasure; the cookie jar. Running being an important component of the quest, required a lot of heavy breathing from your part. Consequently, your mask was often tossed over your shoulder, possibly never to be found again.

Even when your mother would be standing in front of you, demanding an explanation for taking the mask off, you’d be plotting ways to reach the jar of cookies. Scoring one without being caught was a feat. And that was exactly when you were introduced with the idea of invisibility and aero-dynamics.

There was no stopping you, then. Your fascination with invisibility grew into an obsession. At the age of ten, you perused through all seven Harry Potter books, in search of cryptic clues which were perhaps hidden by the author who was potentially a wizard. Reading and re-reading The Shadow and the Flash, convinced that the story was an anecdote. A modern-day Don Quixote, you could say. Or a ghost, according to your fifteen year old sister. An invisible bird, perhaps. More often, a ghost. But you didn’t believe in their existence. For all the fairy-tales you read and heard, ghosts were something you could never believe in. Transforming potions and bewitching spells were perhaps plausible. But for some reason, strange to even the older you, not the ghosts. You’d snort derisively at your sister’s comparison considering her a little kid for believing in mere childish fancies created to frighten children into eating their food. Or sleeping without so much a complaint for “the ghost of the house will come to haunt you, otherwise”.

Five years later, you’d curse the younger you for your recklessness, alternating between fear and gratitude for being saved. Your obsession could have very well been your doom. Masks weren’t hindrances, they were life-savers. Global warming was rampant all around the globe. Even the greenest of countries felt its effect. The hospitals were running out of oxygen tanks and beds. Neighbours refused to help for fear they’d run out of resources themselves. Air-purifiers ran out of stock. Every family had two in each of their rooms. But to no one it occurred, that perhaps a tree should be planted. You didn’t blame them though. 

People didn’t think about things for which the world had no space.

***

You wake up, disoriented and confused as to where you are. You’re lying in a large park of sorts with a vaguely familiar and huge building behind you. It is a marvel to behold. A rare sight in the modern world where there is little space for large things. You feel as if you’ve misplaced something. As if something is wrong. And it hits you. You’re not wearing a mask. And the air is purer than the water from ROs. 

Everything is wrong, you think to yourself. It’s not the way it’s supposed to be. There is little noise; the only ones being hens clucking and dogs barking; animals long extinct. It must be a dream, you finally decide.

You get up unsteadily and stop for a moment. You feel surprisingly light as if you’re a puff of cloud. You decide to explore the grounds around the building of which you’re convinced is a house; it’s just a gut feeling which tells you so, even if it’s structure makes it impossible to be one. You come across a small patch of flowers on one of the corners as you walk along the wall of the house. There’s several plants you can’t recognise so you don’t bother and continue walking.

You find yourself confronting a large gloomy grey wall projecting from the house as you circle it and come to the backyard. Interestingly, this part of the building doesn’t have any windows or doors. Curiosity overcomes you and you wonder if you can scale it to see what lies inside the enclosure behind this building. 

You feel a weight on your right shoulder, albeit very light but it startles you. You turn around to face your father who determinedly steers you away from the wall.

“Nice orchids, huh?” He says, conversationally. You nod and he grins. “Your grandma grows them, no surprise they look so beautiful.”

“Grandma? Isn’t she de-Oh, where’s everyone?” A feeling nags at the back of your head but disappears completely before you can grasp what it is. A terrible longing and its fulfillment, perhaps. You aren’t quite sure.

“They are inside the house.” Your dad gestures to the house. So you were right after all; it is a house. “Come on, let’s go in. It’s probably time for lunch.”

You walk lightly on the cobbled path leading towards the large old-fashioned house sitting sedately in front of you. You feel like this place is in your bones. As soon as you enter the house you’re engulfed by the scent of gulab-jamuns and a dough-clad hug which leaves you breathless for a while. You recognise the white-haired strong woman as your grandma as memories of a three-year old you and her gush through your mind in a race to reach consciousness first.  She examines you critically, eyeing you from head to toe as if it’s an examination. “Ri, you’re starving the poor child,” she says to your mother who is reclining on the sofa chatting with grandpa. She laughs dismissively, used to grandma’s critical appraisal. Grammy loses no time in ushering you to the kitchen, stuffing a handful of gulab-jamuns in your mouth, all the while telling you about the good ol’ days. You feel content, sitting there listening to grandma talking. It’s as if a piece of you which was wrenched long ago is put back in place. 

***

You’re out, lying in the park watching the clouds lazily roll by. Your whole family is sitting around, chatting and laughing. You breathe deeply, enjoying the pure, fresh air. It’s a first for you. You feel an ecstasy you never felt before. You long to dance wildly but you stay put, the gentle breeze wafting across your face sending strands of hair to smack you right in the eyes. The breeze pushes you over and you exclaim in surprise, as that feeling of lightness returns. The ghost of a smile appears on your lips as your sister laughs at you. Her laughter turns into an exclamatory yell as the breeze pushes her over, too. You’re confused but you don’t ask, seeing no one else does, either.

The low hum of chattering falls down and your whole family joins you in gazing at the never-ending blue, the colourful butterflies flitting about and unseen birds singing their compositions with pride.

***

You’re all gathered for a family lunch. Your white-bearded grandfather stares at you from under his bushy eyebrows from across the table. You fiddle nervously, almost dropping your spoon under his sharp gaze. The usual scrutiny, you think to yourself. It is a running trait in the family, to scrutinise and critique every person you come across. He utters a deep rumble. You have passed the test. Congratulations.

Suddenly, there’s footsteps and noise in the hallway. You look at your dad who’s looking at his dad with a sort of nervous expression. He clears his throat.

“Why don’t we go to the-uh-park to eat? It’s quite sunny and nice,” he says cheerily. Everyone agrees and your sister is about to usher you out of the room when a sob echoes in the corridor and there’s someone in the room. Aunt Ashima.

You rush forward to meet her but she looks past you–as if she can’t see you. The next moment, you’re dragged out of the room and that’s the end of it. No questions asked.

***

It’s been a busy day, running all about the place, looking at this, taking pictures of that. You snuggle into bed contentedly and listen to your sister brushing her teeth. After some time, she switches off the light. Soon, her gentle snores fill the room. You shift slightly, staring into the dark, unable to fall asleep. After a few minutes of restless fidgeting, you pad out silently, and glide outside. An audible gasp escapes you as you take in the surroundings. The full moon looks beautiful, surrounded by innumerous stars. You’ve never seen this many stars at once. The shining dew drops seem like diamonds adorning the flowers and grass like jewellery. They tilt slightly, as if they are dancing as the wind becomes stronger. You shiver, drawing the shawl around you tightly even as it flaps in the wind. You wonder whether you should go back inside or take a stroll. You suddenly remember something—someplace, rather.

“You can do anything you want to, here.” Your sister grins mischievously.

“Anything?” you repeat incredulously, remembering years of “you’re not to go there and you’re not to do that.” But of course, there’s a but.

“Except you can’t visit the grounds behind the house. Until you’re seventeen.”

“Why not?” You ask. 

Your mother suddenly appears out of nowhere and that is the end of the topic.

You tried sneaking away to the place all afternoon but all in vain. Someone would suddenly appear around you and that would be the end of it. But everyone is asleep now. You take off, circling the house until you’re almost at the back. There’s a cement wall between you and whatever lies behind the house. Knowing you would be unable to scale it, you turn away in disappointment. There’s a strong wind now, which almost takes you off the ground. And then you realise it. You already are off the ground. The bizarreness of the situation makes your heart jump into your mouth. A numbing nervousness takes over you and you find yourself being lifted higher and higher. You flap your hands about desperately, trying to catch hold of anything which will keep you from flying any further. They graze the top of the cement wall and you grasp it tightly. Your head bobs slightly above the wall and you see a sight which makes you blink twice. Cold hard stones buried into the ground with words carved on them. One of them especially catches your eye and it makes you feel like you’re about to faint. You’re about to let go of the wall, both with shock and weakness, never having had stamina to hold on for long when a hand clutches your foot and you’re down on the ground.

Your father looks at you grimly. An unasked question lies in the air between you and him. So you answer, anyway, for there’s no use denying it now. You saw it, alright.

The cemetery and the words on the headstone at the end.