Happy Reading

Trigger warning: suicide, mental abuse

When I had pictured this moment, the mountains were here, the sky was the exact shade of pink it is now but in my vision, I was standing on the shoulder of a mountain with my arms open, hair flying and an euphoria was taking over my body as I was preparing for the liberation from the endless spiral of misery, they call my life, at least that's what they show in the movies.

Yet, I am here, on the Kalka- Shimla Road, preparing to stand on the edge and jump into the valley with no surging euphoria, no happiness with just a dull look and dead expression in my eyes.

This is it?

An uneventful death of my eventful life?

I have no will to live, no strength to go on. I am tired not physically but emotionally and mentally.

So, this is my end?

I look around, I have to look around. A mini van passes behind me, shaking the trees near the blind turn with its speed. This is the last time I'll see life, in its actual form. What happens next? I become a ghost or I'll know nothing but oblivion from this point forward?

I try to dust these thoughts off my mind but curiosity had always gotten the better of me and today was no different. I couldn't stop thinking of what led me here, what could've been different in life or what will happen ahead. I keep thinking, I don't force myself to do something I don't want to in the last minutes of my life. I keep walking and wondering. I keep wondering as I walk closer to the edge, close my eyes and put my first step out in the valley.

And I feel a great pull.

Gravity?

The next thing I know is that my knees hurt. They hurt a lot. I can feel the ground. I can still feel. I slowly and gradually open my eyes and look around, again.

I am certainly not in a valley and there are no injuries from falling. I am sitting on the same road I was intending to jump from and there is a woman, wearing a blue kurta and white trousers, crouching on the road next to me. She's middle aged and is panting.

"Who are you?" I ask her.

"Seriously?" She says, still catching her breath. "What do you think you were doing, young lady?"

I can't find an answer.

She gets up and offers me her hand.

"Your knees are a little bruised but could've been worse if I didn't save you."

"W-why did you save me?" I hear my voice cracking. I don't take her hand.

"You want to have this conversation in the middle of the road?"

I look at her, blankly.

"I didn't save you to be run by a truck in the middle of the road. Move."

"I am tired." I say in a soft voice.

"I'm not going to pick you up."

"For someone who saved someone else's life, you are really mean." I almost shout.

She returns my blank look.

"I didn't want to be saved. I am tired ... tired of being me"

"It's okay. Come with me, you can fix it."

"EASY FOR YOU TO SAY"

"Come with me, please."

She offers me her hand again. This time she looks motherly and concerned but when have I known concern or love to understand how she is looking?

Yet I give my hand in her wrinkled one, trusting her enough to give her a chance.

She helps me in getting up and we walk to her car. I can't talk. I can't find the strength in me to utter a word. I can feel tears stinging my eyes and I let them fall, too exhausted to care about what my savior will think or to raise a finger to wipe them. I silently cry till sleep empowers me.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I wake up instantly.

"Come."

That's all the lady says before getting inside a building.

I don't want to but I follow her. I look at the same world I had been curiously looking at earlier and it begins suffocating me. Like, two strong hands are clutching my neck and pressing it. I open my mouth to breathe because the nose isn't working enough but this isn't working either. I can't breathe. It's a struggle I don't want to undergo. I collapse near the car. My back is resting against its cold metal. I pull my legs near my torso and rest my head on my knees. The thought of having to live, of going back to my regular schedule creeps in my head and I can feel myself shaking, not of the mountain's cold but because of fear. I hold my shoulders with my crossed arms and try to stop the shivering but it doesn't. I struggle to bring my body back to normalcy. I don't want this struggle. I want these futile attempts to stop but I had been saved against my will and I have to endure the cruel games of life.

I think I heard the sound of wind chimes. It reminds me of the ones in my childhood home. I feel an arm on my hand and I slowly lift my head.

I don't know how miserable I look, my savior's face doesn't let me have an idea. She helps me get up and walks with me towards the door of the building she had disappeared into earlier. She opens the door and the wind chimes tinkle. We enter into a library-cum-café sort of room.

The room has big windows and has wooden tiles all over the floor. The walls are white as the snow and wooden table-chair sets are scattered all around like in a café. There is a food counter at one end and the rest of the walls are lined up with shelves full of books and books.

"Here!"

The woman keeps a cup of tea on the nearest table and pats a chair for me to sit.

"I don't really feel like eating or drinking much. Thank you." I slide the tea cup a little in her direction.

"I don't remember asking you." She stares at me, sternly. After a pause, she adds, "Drink it."

"I- I don't need favors from strangers."

"Daddy's little angel doesn't talk to strangers, I see." She says, mocking me.

"My father's dead." I gulp.

I expect her to apologize but she doesn't, she keeps working at the counter.

"Here's a sandwich for you, Miss?"

"Alisha."

She nods and sits across the table.

"What's your name?" I ask her. I inspect the food in front of me. I remove a bread slice and pick out all the tomatoes in between. I keep them on the side of the plate.

"Vibha."

She startles me with her sudden answer.

"Eat those tomatoes."

"I don't want to."

"Eat them."

"But-"

The next thing I know is, I'm putting the tomatoes back inside my sandwich and eating them. Yuck!

"Why were you standing with a leg in the air, on the edge of the cliff?" She asks after a long silence.

"I don't have to answer you."

"Fine. If you take the stairs and go up, the third room is yours from now onwards."

"I don't have enough money."

"Work here and pay me. I wasn't offering free service anyway."

I nod. I look at my empty plate and then slowly move to the said room.

"If you try to commit suicide again..." I hear her speaking.

She doesn't finish the sentence. I wait for a while and walk to my new room.

Days pass and I focus all my energy on working at Vibha ma'am's library cum café. Nothing is going to let my mind wander off to the big knife kept in the kitchen or the heights of Shimla or the rope kept in the backyard, at least I try to think so. I'm a stranger and I'm not going to die under her vigilance. Not because she saved me or something, I didn't want to be saved in the first place but because she is a good lady and I don't want her to be in any kind of trouble caused by me. I can't be a disappointment to another human being.

I keep following my work routine. Getting up early, helping Vibha ma'am in her kitchen, cross checking if the books are arranged properly, going through the rented book record, that's all I do. She rents her books instead of lending them for free. She believes it makes the readers return them on time. Work distracts me from my sadness and makes me feel a little worthy in my own eyes.

There is a time when I feel a little happy in my monotonous routine. At 7 in the evening, Vibha ma'am dismisses me for the day and starts arranging the books. She plays old songs, mostly from K S Chitra and dances to the soft beats. Well, that's not exactly dancing but just swaying her body without a care in the world. I sit a little higher on the stairs so that I can watch her but she can't see me.

Tum bin jiya jaaye kaise?

Kaise jiya jaye tum bin?

Sadiyon se lambi hai raatein

Sadiyon se lambe huye din

Aa ja laut kar fir,

Ye dil keh raha hai.

(Trans: How can I live without you? Since you've drifted away the nights have been as long as a century. My days have become as long as a century. My heart calls you, come back.)

I guess that's her favorite song from the whole lot. Her playlist changes every day but this one's a constant and I don't blame her. My generation grew up on these melodies, far away from whatever Bollywood dishes out these days.

I wait for this time every single day when I can watch a person feeling completely happy. It fills me with positivity, at least for some time and hope which has started lasting longer than I expect it to.

I had always loved reading about plants, especially flowers. I still can spend hours reading about flowers, their morphology, unique features and their symbolism.

I remember reading about Snowdrops. Keeping all the technical information aside, I loved them because they come in only variety of color – white. They look pure in their white glory. They don't change colors, unlike us. They stand for hope, hope for a friend in need and rebirth.

Vibha ma'am is a Snowdrop in my life. She is pure and watching her dance feels like watching those flowers sway in a field. She gives me hope and has given me a rebirth. We still don't talk much. Our interactions can be limited to formal smiles on some days but this odd hour, where she is in her raw element, brings her closer to me in a unique way.

Time flies and today, just like any other day, I settle on a step and watch Vibha ma'am prepare herself to have what perhaps is the best time of her day. I wait a little but she doesn't start dancing or playing music either.

What is wrong with her? Should I go and see? We aren't close enough but should I go and see? I should, right? What if she doesn't like my intrusion? But – chodo jo hoga dekha jaayega, I'll handle whatever comes.

With unsure steps I walk down and spot Vibha ma'am sitting on a table, slapping a device. My lips turn up in a smile. That's so desi to hit a device in the hope that it'll start working. It looks a little odd but works more than 90% of the time.

"What do you want?" She says, startling me once again.

"I- I ..." I trail off.

She stays quiet for a while and tries to 'fix' whatever that is in her hand.

"My cassette player isn't working-"

"You have a cassette player!" I cut her sentence in between. "In this day and age? You listen to cassettes?"

"Yes. Now, do you know how to fix it?"

My initial excitement drops when I realize that the only solution I have is taking out the batteries, slapping the cassette player and then putting them back in. I am as experienced as she is.

"Well then!" She replies. "I'll take them to the market tomorrow. Guess, it's going to be a dull hour arranging these."

She picks up a book, stares at it and drops it back on the table with a sigh. Women Who Ruled India, I read the title.

"I can sing." I hear myself suggesting it before I can stop.

"Really?" I think her face looks brighter now.

I nod frantically.

"I'm no Chithra ji or Lata Tai but I can try."

She looks a little impressed. So I add, "What will you like to hear?"

Vibha ma'am looks at me like she is weighing her choices. She scans me as if trying to figure out how my vocals are just by looking at me. She picks up a magazine and rolls it. She passes the makeshift mic to me.

"Okay, Miss Alisha Chinai. Sing Tum Bin Jiya Jaaye Kaise." She orders and I break into the song, not bothering about how she changed my surname to a famous singer's to pull my leg or to challenge me or ... both?

I hadn't expected it but she begins her usual dance routine. She arranges the books. It hardly takes her a verse or two to do it today and then, she settles on a chair and listens to me warble the tune.

"Bravo!!" She gets up dramatically and claps.

"It wasn't that good." I say.

"I know. A little lie doesn't hurt." She dismisses me and sits down again.

"Do you want me to sing something else?"

She politely declines. She is smiling and looks content.

"Was it that bad?" I ask, a little unsure.

She laughs a little and then says, "This is my daughter's favorite song."

"Where is she?"

"Dead."

"Oh! I'm sorry." I mentally curse myself. Why hadn't I thought about this? She's a single old lady. I should have given it a thought and been careful but she simply dismisses me.

"Don't be." She adds after a pause. "Husband, son and daughter, all died."

"H-how?"

"Car accident."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

We stare at nothingness in silence.

"She fought with me. I told her not to go to a school trip. She was 16, too young to go out on her own, in my opinion. She fought with me and I told her to get lost wherever she wanted to. She went out for ice cream with her father and brother. They never came back."

"You've had a tough life."

"I know. Lost all I had. Didn't know how to go on."

"What did you do?"

"Attempted suicide."

I had not seen this coming!

"I was found in a pool of blood by the neighbors. They saved me without my consent. Like, I saved you without your consent. I didn't speak for days, denied food. Then one day, out of the blue, I decided to move on."

"For whom?"

"For me. I was staring at the roof, lying on my bed and fell asleep, just like that. I had a dream of my family and it was so vivid! They talked to me and motivated me. It was so vivid!"

I look at my hands.

"Silly, is it?" She asks. "Beta, in a situation of life and death, choose life. Whatever is the reason, however silly, small or selfish it maybe, choose life. Okay?"

I nod.

"You saved me because someone saved you?" I ask her.

"Well, it's not exactly like I was walking on the road looking for people to save. I saw you and I saw your eyes, your body language. Pain recognizes pain, you know?"

"Wow! For someone who comes across mean a lot of times, you really believe in a lot of dreamy stuff."

"Thank you."

"Where did the idea of this library cum café came to you?"

"That's a simple story. I'm a foodie and I love books. I opened this place and turns out you're not as unique as you consider yourself to be." She grins.

"So?" She continues. I figure it's her turn to ask questions now.

"Have you informed anyone at home that you are working here?"

"I said I'm going on a two month long vacation before leaving them."

"Who are them?"

"My little sister Ayesha."

"That's it?"

"Baba died when I was 18. Your wind chimes remind me of his office." I turn to point at the wind chimes and control the lump in my throat. I still miss my father. "Maa's back at Delhi."

"You're from Delhi?"

I nod.

"Do you still care about why I wanted to die?" I don't know where that question came from in my head.

"Only if you want to tell me."

"Baba died when I was 18. 18, I was legally eligible for marriage. I was an undergraduate. Ayesha was at school. She was in the 9th grade. Our mother couldn't handle our expenses and there was all the pressure on her to save money for our marriage. So, one day I come back home and I'm told that I'm going to get married to this businessman from our community. They don't want dowry. The family was even ready to bear Ayesha's expenses. Mom had hit a jackpot and when I denied, I was hit too. I got married when I was 19. My in laws were nice. Everything was okay. Nothing was wrong but I wasn't happy." I hear my voice crack.

I continue, "One day, I came across this NGO that was looking for teachers for BPL kids. I signed up and I felt happy, after ages. My husband came to know about the job and he told me that I had no reason to work because my in laws were rich. That was it. I felt suffocated all the time and I couldn't take it anymore and called it quits."

Vibha ma'am passes me a glass of water and I drink it in one go.

"I was not welcomed at home. Relatives I don't even remembered suggested that I should throw my pride away and go back. A woman with self respect burns her own home, they used to say but they couldn't understand that I wasn't happy. All my friends had moved on in life. I love Ayesha too much to share my problems with her and mom abandoned me. She kept me in her house but stopped talking to me altogether."

A rough touch diverts my attention. Vibha ma'am was holding my hand with a motherly smile.

"I told them that I'm off for a two months vacation to Shimla. My mom gladly gave me a lot of money and said that I should just die or jump off a cliff for bringing her shame by divorcing my husband and being a miserable woman."

"A miserable woman?"

"I had aborted what could be my child, twice. I didn't want to bring a child in this unhappy marriage. I had divorced my husband and refused to take alimony. The job I did at the NGO didn't really pay anything. She said I was a burden and didn't deserve to breathe."

That was it. I couldn't hold it anymore and I began wailing, crying like a baby.

"I was going to die to give her peace." I say between my sobs. I know I'm hysterical. I know that I shouldn't be throwing my hands, shouting and pulling my hair but I do it anyway. I keep crying and weeping and sobbing till I feel a certain warmth. It takes me a while to realize that Vibha ma'am has enveloped me in her warm embrace. I start calming down, slowly.

It took ten minutes or an hour before I was normal, I don't know but I had cried it all out and I felt lighter. After a century, I didn't feel like I was carrying a heavy load on my shoulders. I felt 17 again.

"You can stay here as long as you want. You can work, too."

"Thank you." I mumble.

"Should I choose life?" I ask abruptly.

"What?"

"Should I choose life? Do you see any hope for me? Am I worthy enough to live?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Alisha."

"Should I live?"

She nods and I notice a thin line of tears forming in her eyes. She says, "Choose life, always. Live for yourself. Give yourself a chance."

And it snows outside. The mountain range is lined with the white blanket of snow and tiny specks of lights shine. The night is standing in its full glory. The stars twinkle in harmony with the lights on the Earth. In a small store in a small town on the big mountains, a life is saved.