OS: Hello, Hai Zindagi(Life)

        Disclaimer:  All the pictures used here have been procured from public internet sources, and have been used merely for illustrative purposes.  I do not claim any rights to these       

Anjali slowly rose from the lounge chair by the poolside next to the living room as the first rays of sunlight speared through the eastern sky.  She dragged her feet back to her room, before any of her family members could wake up and spot her.  Ever since the day she had thrown Shyam out of her life, Anjali had renounced her bedroom in favor of the spare bedroom that her daadi had briefly occupied. Her old bedroom was full of the ghosts of her past that haunted her the minute she stepped into it making it impossible for her to inhabit the room even for a moment.

                Her chotte had been watching over her like a hawk and so had Akash.  At the slightest sign of weakness, they rushed to fortify her with their support.  She sent a silent prayer towards the brightening heavens for her wonderful family without whose unconditional love and support, she would have surely perished.  She did not wish to cause them any further concern, and therefore had never mentioned to them about the bouts of insomnia that kept her awake on most nights.  

On those nights she would chant her 'shlok' to the goddess, pace the room, or pull out her oils and canvases and paint.  Thanks to their family-moon at Kumarakom, she had rediscovered her lost passion for her favorite pastime, painting and sketching. Strolling out to lounge by the poolside, just prior to day break had been a recent habit.  The quiet stillness of the universe in the last couple of hours preceding dawn had become a soothing balm for her mind and heart.  She discovered that in those peaceful moments when the world slept while she awaited the rising Sun to herald yet another day, her heart filled up with something akin to hope and joy.  It clarified her thoughts and strengthened her resolve to rise like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes of her past.

                This morning's experience was all of that and more.  Anjali had decided on certain concrete steps to be taken today.  She had mulled the thought in her mind several times, and had decided this would be her first step towards her future.  Burning the pictures and objects associated with Shyam had not been purgatory enough.  She needed to wipe the slate clean and fill it up with colors from a palette of her choice.  She was tired of destiny tossing her every which way.  She would today, emulate her chotte and attempt to steer her destiny towards a course of her choice.  

Of course she would always believe in her Gods and prayers and rituals.  These were central to her persona, but she would unearth the other aspects of her psyche that she had buried for years, like her love of architecture, the satisfaction of expressing with charcoal and colors on paper and the freedom of laughing without a care in the world. 

She surveyed the well maintained landscapes surrounding the Raizada Mansion from the windows of her room. "What else but a quirk of nature could it be that my quiet, reserved, and practical chotte understands the living breathing plants in our yard.  They thrive under his care and attention.  While I, who draw security and comfort from people and interactions with them perfectly understand stony, stationary buildings, and the beauty of their form and function" she thought, her bowed lips lifting up at the corners with her first smile of the day

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                "Aisa laagat hain ki kauno toofan khatam hua hai.  NK ki shaadi, woh bhi ek nahin teen teen baar, aur sirf ek mahine ke andar.  Hume to yakeen hi nahin ho raha hai, ki hum sab kuch itne kam samay mein karpaayen" said Naani.  She recalled the events of the past few months between Holi and NK's wedding in early July amidst several discussions on reeti riwaaz and parampara.  

"Such kahate hain aap Naaniji.  Par ab to ghar bilkul khalee lag raha hai.  Ab hume to besabri se intezaar hai ki Payal jiji ka delivery hojaye aur nanha munna sa mera bathija ghar aajaye.  kyon Jijaji" questioned Khushi with a naughty smile and a wink for Akash.  

Akash smiled as he answered,"Any day now Khushi ji.  July mein hi Payal ka due date hai, bas kuch hi hafton mein."

"Khushi ji, Akash, kya aap dono humari madat karoge"  asked Anjali as she approached the two of them and Naani who were lounging in the family sitting room that afternoon after lunch.  Arnav and Payal were out visiting one of the local handloom suppliers for assessing their needlework samples.  

"Of course Di!  Kya  karnahai, batayiye." Akash replied, instantly straightening up in his seat. 

"Hum chahte hain ki hum apne purane kamre mein jo bhi cheeze baakhi pade hain, unhe sort out kare aur unhe ya to donate kar dein ya phir phenk de".  She squeezed Khushi's hand when she felt it on her arm, and smiling reassuringly at her Naani's worried face, she continued,"Woh kya hain na, hum kayi dinon se yeh soch rahe hain ki, itna bada khamra bilkul khalee pada hai.  Hum to woh room isthamal nahin karenge, to kyun na, usse khaali karke, kuch aur wajah ke liye remodel karden?"

Naani heaved a quiet sigh of relief and said encouragingly" Haan, theek hi kahat ho bitiya"  

"Par -------Woh" Anjali struggled to finish the rest of her sentence. 

"Hum jaante hain, par un saari cheezon se aapke beete hue khal ke yaaden jude hai.  Aur yeh kaam aap akele nahin karna chahte.  To hum kis liye hain?  Chaliye, hum teenon milke yeh kaam miniton mein liptadenge" exclaimed Khushi with her characteristic enthusiasm, pulling on Anjali's hand, her face a picture of empathy.  The most important thing was the determined look on Di's face, thought Khushi.  It seemed to be a harbinger of good things to come.

                Within a matter of minutes, Hari Prakash and Om Prakash had also joined the three of them in hauling and moving the heavier objects.  Devyani Raizada sat in an arm chair in a corner stroking Lakshmi and keeping an eye on the proceedings. Within a couple of hours they had managed to sort the belongings into three piles: donate, throw, and burn. 

"It's ok Di, you don't have to do this.  Mein kardoonga" said Akash putting an arm around Anjali's shoulder.  She was gingerly touching the carved wooden cradle, and hot tears rolled down her cheeks unbidden.  

"Nahin Akash.  Hum theek hain.  Yeh zaroori hain ki hum yeh khud karen taaki hum aage bhad sake.  Hari Prakashji, zara yeh paalna lejayiye aur bed ke saat rak deejiye.  Aaradhya Anaadh Ashram wale aathe hi honge, inhe lejane.  Hum ne kuch der pehle unhe phone kiya tha". 

Khushi's heart welled with pride at Anjali's resolve to put the past behind her.  She felt her own heart lightening up after many months.  Despite the fact that Khushi was as much a victim of Shyam's deviousness, she had always carried a twinge of guilt in her heart for Shyam's betrayal of Anjali and Di losing her baby the way she had.

                "Zara, rukiye to Hari Prakash ji, yeh kya hai?" Anjali slowly advanced and attempted to pull free, what seemed like a folded parchment covered with plastic.  The tape that had held it to the bottom of the cradle had come undone.  

"Let me do it Di, said Akash" as he deftly pulled out the rest of the tape and freed the object.  He quickly ripped through the plastic and drew in a sharp breath as he unfolded the document and recognized it for what it was, the Will and Testament of Arnav Singh Raizada.  It declared the transfer of all his property and wealth to Shyam Manohar Jha, sealed with his signature. 

Anjali's heart turned to lead once again.  She had guessed in her heart what it was even as Akash's nod confirmed her mute question.   Memories of Khushiji screaming out the truth flashed through her mind. But she had chosen to believe her worthless husband.  A torrent of fresh tears of remorse rolled down her cheeks.  This was indeed the document that Shyam had coerced Khushi to get Arnav's signature on, and later had kidnapped him with intent to murder him.  Khushi ran towards Anjali and enveloped her in a comforting hug shushing away the apologies that had started to form on Di's lips.

                "Chalo accha hua ki woh aadmi hamari zindagi se nikhalgaya hai.  Ab ise bhi bhaaki cheezon ke saat jalaa deejiye, aur neeche chaliye.  Bahut ho gaya.  Waise, ab sirf safaayi ka kaam bhakhi hai, aur yeh kaam, Hariprakash ji karlenge" commanded Naani surveying the bare room, her face paling with concern.  She rose to her feet and she put an end to this cleansing event, which in her opinion had gone far enough.  

Akash's exclamation of surprise halted the women who were on their way out. "Di aapne abh tak apna pitaara sambhalke rakha hai?" He carefully picked up the filgreed silver box in the dark corner of the now empty closet.  

"Arey hum to iske bhaare mein bhool hi gaye te" squealed Anjali in a delighted tone, dashing her tears with the back of her hand. 

"Pitara?  Kaisa Pitara Di?  Kholiye na, hum bhi dekhna chahte hain" pleaded Khushi with childlike curiosity.  

"Haan Di, Muje bhi dekhna hain ki aap iss mein aisa kya rakhi hain.  Bachpan mein to aapne khabhi dikhaya hi nahin" pleaded Akash joining forces with his bhaabi as they walked down the stairs.

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                "Kaisi bhaarish hai, I tells you" sang maami as she rushed indoors with her husband in tow.  They were returning from a friend's house.  "Om Parkas where eeejj eberybody? Hein?  Hello, Hai Bye Bye" she demanded.  

"Woh, Paayal bhabi aur Arnav bhayya, baahar gayen hain aur kissi bhi waqt athehi honge.  Akash baba, Khushi ji , aur Anjaliji Naaniji ke saat unke khamre mein hain.  Hum abhi wahan jaa rahe hain ee chai ke saat. chaliye" informed  Om Prakash as he proceeded with his tray towards Naani's room. 

Manorama settled herself between her husband and her saasuma as she looked on at the three youngsters who had settled on the rug on the floor surrounding a silver box.  "Eee ka hai Anjali?  Koi treajure hunts pe gaye the kaa?"

  "Nahin maa, aapko yaad hai, bachpan se Di yeh box apne pass rakh thi thi.  Na jaane kya kya is me chipa kar rakti.  Aur kahathi ki yeh hai uska Jadoo ka Pithara" replied Akash.  

"Oh!! Tho why baste time, kholo Anjali, let us sees, khaa hain isma" urged maami her curiosity steadily mounting.  Anjali felt a familiar happiness course through her after many, many years.  She had not opened this treasure box of hers since her marriage.

                There were several memorabilia from her girlhood days.  A length of purple ribbon that was a parting gift from a child hood friend, several dolls' clothes, hand carved wooden dolls, cloth puppets from Rajasthan, colored marbles and A book - the translations of Rabindra Nath Tagore's writings, worn out from repeated reading and flaunting several dog-eared pages. Anjali had won it in a drawing competition.  

"Yeh Kya hai Di" exclaimed Khushi picking up a sketch book that she opened to reveal several hand drawn sketches by Anjali.  The initial ones amateurish, but the latter ones revealed a definite talent. She had effectively captured the mood and expression of her subject in a few clever strokes of her pencil or charcoal. 

  "Arrey wah, aap kitne sundar tasveeren banati hai Di" Khushi exclaimed, as she rapidly skimmed through the book.  A quick gasp escaped her lips as she turned another page and found herself staring at a charcoal sketch, a back view of a tall, young man of twenty with broad shoulders and narrow waist, his face in profile. 

He was wearing low slung jeans, his legs slightly apart and firmly planted on the ground claiming it as his.  He had his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his faded denim, the sleeves of his black and white checked shirt rolled up carelessly upto his elbows revealing long, lean but powerful forearms.  He seemed to be standing at the edge of a cliff, his head thrown up at a haughty angle highlighting his chiseled jawline, as if he were daring the elements.  The wind seemed to be having its way with his hair as it was blown away from his face.  His bearing was proud and regal as he looked every bit a prince surveying his realm. 

Khushi could recognize the stance and the man anywhere and her throat dried up.  "Laad Governor" she whispered in a husky voice.  

"Miss me Khushi?" came a voice close to her ear, a warm familiar breath tickling the nape of her neck.  So lost was she in admiring the sketch of her Arnavji that Khushi had not heard her husband and Jiji enter the room and join them.  She smiled at him now and hooked her arm through his.  "Di, Kya hum yeh-------" started Khushi, "haan zaroor leejiye Khushi ji, waise yeh aaphi ka amaanat hai," Anjali said with a slight smile, even before Khushi could complete her request.

"Kya yeh wahi rose hai" asked Akash in a disbelieving voice, picking up a pressed rose bud. 

"You gotta be kidding me Di.  Really?" Questioned Arnav, astonishment coloring his tone. 

"Haan! Any problem?  Waise yeh pehla rose tha jo kissi ladke ne hume di thi, hum isse kaise phek dethe"  

"Really? tells me more peleej.  Akash bituwa, bhaat do you know isske bhare ma?"  enquired Manorama her tone pregnant with curiosity.  

"Maa, aapko yaad hai Nirmal das Yadav jo lucknow mein rahta ta, Shyamal Das uncle ka beta.  Usne ek din, apne dad ke saat ghar aayata aur us din yeh rose di ko dhee thi.  Bhai ko yeh baat bilkul pasand nahin tha.  Jab sab log baat cheet mein busy the, who chup chaap uncle ke car ke tyres se hava nikaal di aur uska blame Nirmal pe dhal diya.  Bechara Nirmal, usse sab ke saamne itni dhaant padi, ki us din ke baad, who kabhi bhi Di ke taraf aankh utha ke nahin dekh paya"  finished Akash, as everyone laughed and the brothers hi-fived each other

Anjali steadily became happier and animated as each item emerged from her box and its story retold amidst a great deal of oohing and aahing as the various family members added their recollections to complete each story. 

There were pictures of herself and Arnav as well as Akash, Dhruv and NK at various stages of their life.  A beautiful shot of a teenage Anjali riding her horse for the first time, a picture of a proud Anjali as a newly minted graduate with her architecture degree clutched in her hands.  But it was the picture of a preteen Anjali that caught Payal's eye. 

"Yeh aap the di?" questioned Payal in disbelief.  

"Yep, that's Di alright" said Arnav with a hint of brotherly pride."She gave the boys a run for their money in that one". 

Naani chimed in, "Eeh tasveer Jaipur ma keenchi hui hai, Jahaan par hum aur aapke nanaji apni purkhon ke haveli mein rahte the.  Oo saal Janmashtami ke avsar par, chotte aur Anjali aaya hue the apne amma, babuji ke saat".  

The photograph showed a slim Anjali of about twelve or thirteen in brown pants and a pink t-shirt, sporting a page boy cut.  She was standing atop a human pyramid of young boys, a triumphant look on her face, for she had just succeeded in breaking the pot of curds that was hanging high in the air that Janmashtami.  Arnav, a boy of five or six, was clapping his hands in glee. 

Anjali's face glowed with her memory of the triumph. "Woh hum thoda sa tom boy the, bachpan mein" she said in fond remembrance.  

"Anyway ab hume yeh Jadoo ka Pithaara bandh karke dinner ke liye dining room mein jaana chahiye, she said with a smile, shutting the lid on years of memories.  The entire afternoon had passed by in the blink of an eye. 

"Waise Anjali, ab yeh bhi waqat aayi gaya hai ki tum Shyam se judi hui bure Yaadon ko bye, bye karo, aur aanewali sunahri zindagi ko Hello, Hai!" Declared maamiji cupping Anjali's chin as her quiet husband Manohar added with a twinkling look at his Mano, "ab jaake tum kuch samajdhaari ki baath kahi, Mano", and he playfully nudged her shoulder while Manorama pouted.

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                Much later that night, in the secure coil of her husband's arms, Khushi whispered, "Arnavji, ab hume lagta hai, ki Di phir se khush rah paayegi."  She went on to explain the cleansing event that Di had undertaken that afternoon.  Arnav listened with rapt attention, and dropping a kiss on his lovely Khushi's forehead he let out a heavy sigh. 

"I sincerely hope so Khushi" said Arnav in a voice thick with emotion as he turned in her embrace to bury his head in the crook of her shoulder, deeply inhaling her scent, with its faint notes of sandal and turmeric mixed with the floral notes of soap.  

Khushi instantly responded to his silent need for comfort and tightened her embrace as she gently rocked her beloved husband to sleep.  "Hey Devi Mayya, Anjali di ke zindagi mein phir se Khushiyan bhar deejiye", she mumbled as she slipped into a sweet slumber.

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