Chapter Eighteen
"The
truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and
should therefore be treated with great caution." - J.K Rowling, Harry Potter
and the Philosopher's Stone
That
'The Spellwork of the Dyslexic Warlock' by Leah Hope is a most illuminating
read was the topic of discussion at the dining table Saturday morning. Of
course first Sharon gave an ode to her civic responsibilities in telling her
father that Swayum could not have been allowed to leave their house the
previous night. Therefore, it can be concluded that Swayum was embarrassed
during cornflakes. But by the time omelet and toast arrived Swayum had become
engaged in the plot of 'The Spellwork of the Dyslexic Warlock' by Leah Hope. Sharon
emphasized that saying out the whole thing every time was important.
"Okay,
Sharon. If Swayum had kids I am sure he would have gotten a copy for them." Her
father told her, eyeing Swayum though.
Before
Sharon could ask her father to speak the whole title, Swayum said, "I'm not
sure if my wife would have allowed that." He added quickly, Sir."
"There
is a Harry Potter quote on her grave." Sharon said to herself, looking at
neither but at the AC vents.
"Rhea
wasn't anti-fantasy. She wouldn't have liked our kids to know about
dyslexia." Swayum said.
Dyslexia
is a psychological disorder and Rhea died of cancer. But the cancer changed
her. She had believed in updating the children on science and reason along with
nurturing their imagination. It's just cancer had taught her that reason is too
brutal and more often than not, stunts the growth of imagination almost
immediately.
Then,
there was Sharon.
Her
childlike love for imagination would have died too if she had melanoma. The
permanent sheen of a dream covering her eyes would be lost around the second
session of chemo. Her nights would not be spent reading novels written for
children but writhing in pain. Such pain she would not be able to tell him if
he asked her where it hurt. The fact that Swayum imagined all this through the
course of coffee showed him the mirror, metaphorically speaking.
In
the mirror he saw the extent of his brokenness and his doubts or rather what he
had come to consider a fact. That people may not give up on hope but they break
inside. That hope is slow poison. That children and grownups should learn
science and reason alike because reason throws curveballs and when it does,
both children and grownups come to know that they are pretty much the same.
Vulnerable and helpless.
"Swayum,"
Sharon said to the tune of Separate Ways' by Journey, looking at the fridge
now.
"Yeah?"
He said, putting the coffee mug down and realizing her father had excused
himself and was gone.
"I am
Peter Pan." She winked at him and smiled the brightest smile she had ever
smiled. To him, that's to say.
"The
hell you know what I was thinking?" Swayum was nonplussed.
"Occulumency,
Swayum," She laughed, got up and kissed the top his head to leave.
"Because
fairy dust wouldn't explain it?" Swayum shouted after her, laughing too.
"Yes,
Sir." She chimed and then Swayum heard the door close.
*
Swayum
was a nonbeliever but he was in love with her.
Rock
and her '67 Chevy Camaro were her favorite things about which to think.
Bookkeeping and bartending came second. Swayum however was squeezing his way in
the middle. Not that she hadn't loved him before, she had. Her affection was
increasing, perhaps as a response to the affection he had begun to show. Hence,
she thought more of him. You see, Sharon was a believer and she could love him
her entire life without receiving any. It's just that being loved back is a bit
nicer than just loving. She chuckled and noticed that her grin was painful,
being too big for her jaw to accommodate.
When
she rolled her car into the parking lot near her nightclub she was pleased to
see her favorite parking space vacant. She neatly parked her '67 Chevy Camaro,
said her momentary goodbyes to the same and smilingly entered the bar. Until
six in the evening she was in her office, listening to random twenty-first
century music. But clearly that did not go down well with her.
"New
music depresses you, doesn't it?" Swayum chuckled at seven when she passed him
his martini.
"I
don't know depression, you are forgetting something." She looked at him with
twinkling eyes.
"No,
Peter, I have a good memory." He laughed and then she laughed but their
laughter was not loud enough to drown out the twenty-first century music that
Sharon's customers seemed to like so much.
*
A few
days later, when Sharon's car and her other love were away she was found
sitting next to her father on a sofa. Mr. Raiprakash's room was beige in color
and the sofa in question was a dark grey. The only not critical-and-soon-to-die
aspect of her father's room was this wall. This wall was entirely about her
mother. There were her pictures, some solo and some with baby Sharon. Sharon
noticed that baby Sharon did not look as happy as her. There was a rather big
picture of Mrs. and Mr. Raiprakash too and it was the only
not-critical-and-soon-to-die picture of her father in existence. She wondered
why people liked straight faces so much.
"I
laugh when I hear a good joke," her father pointed out because she wondered
audibly and that too, loud.
"Our
time's too short to wait for a good joke, Daddy Dearest," She said mockingly but
in earnest.
"But
long enough to wait for a widower who doesn't love us?" Mr. Raiprakash
counterattacked.
Sharon
stood up, bowed in reverence of how she had been trumped by her father. Therefore,
he had to crack a smile. Sitting back down, she told him the following. It is
crucial that we know what she said.
"You
have only one shot at a son-in-law, Father." She smiled.
"So I
noticed,"
"Yes,
don't push it."
She
did not seem like Peter Pan.
*
"Why
are we near a hospital, Sharon?" Swayum sacredly asked.
"I ran
into a minivan sometime ago, pretty much my whole body needs tests every now
and then." She brightly said in the tone that people use to narrate their best childhood
memory to a friend. "But today they test just my head," she added.
"Am I
needed?"
"Not
unless you got my head injury pregnant." She sagaciously said, patted his
shoulder and left.
While
Sharon was gone, Swayum thought about Sharon and Rhea. Lately he had been
thinking a lot about the women he loved and never about one without thinking of
the other. So, when one thing about Rhea led to another about Sharon, he
decided that he had to do something about his fear of hospitals. Sharon was a
woman prone to accidents and as much at risk of cancer as the next person. Or
in accordance with her genes, what the hell! The point really was that Rhea
would have liked him to face his fears. She was disappointed that he was more
afraid of her illness than she was. Regardless of whether it was Sharon or Rey
or his father, Swayum did not want that repeated.
"For
now my head injury is not pregnant. But we can always wait until the results
tomorrow." Sharon informed him.
Startled
that she had not only come but that her '67 Chevy Camaro was already in motion,
Swayum blinked rapidly. Excessive thinking made him dizzy. Then there was
Sharon's speed tonight. On his inquiring, she fondly told him that she was making
Babe exercise a bit. At the traffic signal, she petted her car lovingly.
"No
music?" He noticed and asked, confused for real.
"Oh,
yeah, I am listening to silence for two hours today."
He
let her listen to silence and listened to it himself. Something told him that
Sharon could explain to him all that there was to Silence and its tunes and
technique. For that reason and others, he loved her. But he loved Rhea too and
so, he decided to join Sharon on her way to the doctor the following evening.
"We
are proud of you." Sharon announced, on her behalf and on that of her car.
"And
I will be of you if you're quick." He politely smiled his fear at her.
The
doctor whose name is of no consequence to us smiled benignly at Sharon. Swayum
and Sharon took the chairs opposite the doctor's. While the doctor made small
talk with Sharon, Swayum began to find the wood of his chair interesting. But
when the small talk lengthened a bit he started. Starting almost at once, he
asked the doctor the following in exactly the following manner.
"WHAT DOES SHE HAVE?"
Edited by epiphany. - 9 years ago
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