Hiraeth

The car had a sudden jerk and Shubhangi woke up from her dream. The driver was facing difficulty trundling through the narrow lanes and traffic. It had been eight years since she had travelled on these roads. Same traffic,noises and people crossing the roads haywire through any possible maze between motorcycle tyres and headlights furthur slowing the wriggling vehicles. Her eyes fell on her seven year old son Ansh still in sleep .His head was resting on her shoulder, mouth half opened drooling her sari drape. Home wasn't far away.
It wasn't that she hadn't met her parents for so long. It was only two years back at  his brother's wedding in London but she made sure her stay was brief. Of course she loved her brother , so much indeed but being a surgeon she couldn't afford that many leaves or could she. She knew that wasn't a problem but rather an excuse to avoid  facing her father. Even today she didn't feel any fibre of emotions on her way to home. But why on earth will a daughter want to eschew his father?

After a wait of another hour she finally reached home. The  walls were bit paler now, coated with grime of time . She walked in the door hugged tightly by her mother , she moved her eyes to every corner of small , dim lit drawing room. Nothing about that room had changed. The wooden sofa in the same direction and the table just in center as her high maintenance mother had placed them. Table covered by a newspaper and then a crinoline and still utensil mats for godsake if the glass which was no longer visible may get a scratch. The sofas still having plastic covering not removed since they were bough. Books bedecked neatly and orderly in a corner. And then her glance fell on her father lumbering towards them. He was gawping continuously at Ansh.
" Why have you come , you will not get your ball. You varmint.. broke my window glass. Go away now. " he rebuked  and went upstairs.
Shubhangi stood there stunned. His  habit of scolding wasn't new to her. She had been always the one receiving his bitter remarks. It was just that he sounded like  a stranger now. Ansh was sitting next to her grandma as if he will cry now. Shubhangi patted his back and hugged her in her solace .
" Its ok. Grandpa is not well beta. He tends to forget things often . He wasn't scolding you. Its just he didn't recognise you ." she said caressing his hair.
For the first time in her life she was feeling helpless not for herself but for her father. Since childhood he had always treated her with asperity, favoring his brother and discouraging her at any possible opportunity. She and her father stood diametrically opposite on their views and choices. Always when there was a squabble between the siblings, or his brother scoring low, or he getting hurted or anything wrong in the world she was the one responsible. His father never thought twice before blaming her for mistakes she never committed, snubbing her into the abyss of hopelessness and believing she was good for nothing. She realized she should have listened carefully to her mother few  years ago when his behavior had begun to alter. She thought it was his new tricks to trouble her mother for a change as he was missing bickering out at her. She was wrong and advicing her mother to overlook him had exacerbated the situation. Six months ago he was diagnosed with advance stage Alzheimer.
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The day after her eleventh birthday Shubhangi  got up very early, took a piece of glass and a pack of colors she received as a gift and went on the roof. She hadn't used glass painting colors and found difficulty drawing straight line through the popping color tubes. Skipping her breakfast , engrossed entirely on that square piece she finally finished it by lunch and left it to dry. Her hands by now were embellished by all hues of colors that wouldn't come off with water. She sidled into the room and sat for lunch.
" What the hell have you done to your hands" snorted his father.
She chose to remain silent and quickly went to bring her painting. Her father looked at it and anger sublimated into a smile. " Papa please get it framed then I'll put this in the drawing room." she said meekly and noticed a change in the countenance of his father.
" You fool, don't you even know the colors in rainbow. Haven't you learnt it at school. Shubham please tell your elder sister all the colors. She seems to be more interested in everything except studies." he sniggered and walked away.
There were only five colors in there. How could l have . But as always nobody could hear her soliloquy.
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She removed the speck of dirt from the old glass painting that she found while searching for thermometer in cupboard. An old memory was conjured upon and her lips tried to manage a smile. Her father had mild fever because of changing weather. Delhi never suited him. She standed aside while her mom was checking the temperature sitting besides his father.
" Who is she? What is she doing in my house?" he asked coldly.
" Ah.. she is a doctor.She will leave once you become fit." answered her mother hesitantly.
" I am alright. You may leave now." He shouted.
She treaded out of the room. There was a sudden gush of pain in her chest. After it subsided she couldn't decide what she felt at that moment. The person in the room was a person who discouraged her throughout her life, made complaints about her in front of guests and relatives, comparing him to his brother. He was the one who always made fun of her for dreaming high , mocking her career as a doctor and never bothered to ask if she needed something. On contrary, saved his entire earning for his  son , gave him more than asked, praised him and kept her bereft of a fatherly love and care. But that person was his father and though she couldn't figure out why today was the worst reprimand she ever had.
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" But Papa apart from the reason that he is not of our caste is there any possible reason I shouldn't marry him ?" she blurted out after collecting a lot of courage.
"How dare you speak in between. Ask your daughter to behave. I should never have let you away from home. I had sent you to study .I should never have wasted my money on you." his father snubbed , his eyes burning with perspicuous rage.
" But we both are doing a job and you himself met him..."
" My decision is final and l will listen no more." he said and turned to go.
You always do this to me. The money you spent on me is not even one tenth of what you spend on your son every month.You don't even deserve the right to take decisions of my life because from the beginning you had only one son, I was never in that count. I was always a stranger.
Even to her surprise this time it wasn't a mere soliloquy but she actually mouthed those words. Her father stopped at the door, but never turned.
" Alright do whatever you want ,who am l to say then." he affirmed. And that was the last conversation they ever had.
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Every single day was another torture for her. On the last day he even failed to recognise her mother and started bickering at her. She tried to ignore everything and packed hastily . As she took a moment to look around the room she felt an obscure belonging and solace . Her own new home never gave that to her though everything there was according to her choice and comfort. Everything in here was impregnated with precious  memories. The staircase where she played land-water-sea , the bed, the pillow which dissembled her tears, the table on which she studied hard to prove herself to her father. She picked up the shawl from the hanger that once used to be hung with school dress, her prefect batch on the nearby small table already overflowing with books. She rushed to close the windowpanes banging against the wind. She saw windows opening to Achari Aunty's house no more brought the aroma of pickles and  spices that usually remained spread on the their terrace . More rooms were constructed and Aunty was never to be found, eavesdropping or chit chatting around. Shubhangi stooped forward to see the space under  desert cooler in the balcony which used to be a home of her secret pet Kajri . She looked at the flock of squirrels fighting and running on the mess of electricity wires trying to recognize her Kajri and then latched the panes as it started raining.

  Maybe it was her last visit here. Her brother was now settled in London and planning to call them there forever. She collected the luggage bags and looked around to take a mental picture of everything. Just before leaving she went to see his father but he wasn't in his room. She heard a shriek in the adjoining room and scuttled there. Blood was oozing his father's finger who happened to touch the broken corner of the glass painting. She rushed to get a bandaid and watched his father still gazing and smiling at the painting. To her surprise he didn't shout at her when she tried to dress his cut but guffawed instead.
' You know my daughter is a very good and famous doctor.She can tend anything and anyone' he pratted still watching the glass on the table.
'You too are a doctor . Do you happen to know her?' he asked turning towards her.Then befuddled and clueless he examined her face plainly and silently.
' Oh dear lord, why are you  crying over this beta.. Take the money from my pocket and buy a new bigger set of colors .. the old one doesn't have enough to fill your beautiful rainbow.'

The rain has stopped and the drops of hiraeth evaporated but only to get lost in the air of oblivion and the rainbow of memories remained there ; soon to get disappeared and forgotten.