When the tempest broke

This was the story that won me the prize in 12th std. The title became cliche but my imagination failed me at that moment when writing time was almost up and I had to name my story. Being in std 12 and being a computer science student and of course intending to appear for engg entrance, I had started thinking more seriously about my career. The branches and streams available were just names to me. The placement statistics of various institutes and prospective pay packets of passouts had started appearing in the papers and were the topic of many a discussion amongst friends (and relatives). I wanted a job with a decent pay- my dreams involving money being-
1)Keeping a dog(or two)
2)Having a library with carpets and wood paneling and a comfortable armchair
3)Buying a car.

Economy class dreams.

One thing I was clear about; that was - family first. I didn't want to be like my uncle who never saw his kids grow up. Nor my relatives who couldn't get leave to attend the last rites of loved ones. I didn't want to be a mother who couldn't be her children's best friend and playmate because she was too busy, nor the wife who only met her husband on the doorstep ,nor the daughter whose love was manifested as envelopes of cash or expensive presents for anniversaries she could not attend ,nor the sister who could only take phone calls on sundays.

In this story I have overdramatized a bit- but the effect appears to be good.

P.S: I believe my father came home reasonably early for some time after reading this story.

So this story I dedicate to my father ( who tries very hard to 'make' time)

When The Tempest Broke

He stood erect on the beach facing the sea, his arms folded and face set as though preparing for one of his executive meetings. But, someone who had met Mr. Narendra Varma at least once would know something was not quite right; and Ram Menon who had been that man’s shadow for the past forty years knew much more. Varma gazed at the sea; but, his eyes did not see the white edged clouds and frothy waves, the warning of an approaching storm. He did not see the catamarans rushing to safety on land and being pulled high up on the beach, out of reach of the hungry waves. He was oblivious of the stares his attire was drawing from the crude fisher-folk. He stood there, his tie flying in the wind and coat billowing behind, lost- for the first time in his life, in his own thoughts.

His life had been one long winning streak. Born into a relatively wealthy branch of the royal family, he had known no want in his youth. Ram Menon, he knew from his school days; but as the years passed the equality of friendship slowly gave way to the relationship between the master and his ‘right hand’ man. Business seemed to course his blue-blooded veins, and by the age of thirty he had moved out of his uncle’s benevolent shade – a rising sun. Of marriage, he had felt no need; but as parental grumbles grew louder and came oftener, the practical business man took the practical way out. It troubled him now that he could not remember how she looked then; forgetfulness was not among his faults. His brows wrinkled in concentration. She must have been beautiful- and rich. He had married her with everyone’s consent. The bills that came afterwards, he could still recall; but her face was in the shadow. He had simply appended her to his list of concerns and gone on with his life.

“What about your children?” a voice spoke inside his head. “Children? Ah yes…… ‘The Green Valley’ housing project- a roaring success, ‘The Pioneer’ his venture into the textile industry – a money minting machine, ‘Chanakya’ the I.T giant.” His lips curved into a small smile. Then, two small faces swam into his mind- a chubby girl with brown eyes and pigtails and a lean handsome boy on his bicycle. ” Yes, yes …my children. Arathi and Adithya. Then who were they - the pretty young woman and the moustached handsome man, I left at the hospital today morning? So big……so soon”

Narendra Varma was known for his lightning quick decisions – sharp, unbiased and always right. He had never hesitated, never doubted himself, but now, standing there as he was, he faced questions. Questions he should have asked himself years ago; but which now could be put off no longer. Had the ideal businessman failed in his duties as a husband, a father??

“No! Never!” his spirit retaliated. “I fed them, clothed them, kept a roof over their heads (and an expensive roof at that). They had anything and everything money could buy.” He was amazed. The list seemed ridiculously short. His spirit put up one last fight. “They could ask her – their mother, had he not done everything he should have?” Even as the thought crossed his mind he remembered; she couldn’t tell them even if she would.

“Did women usually have heart attacks, that too at forty five? After all what worries did she have? Had she always been that frail figure he had left on the hospital bed that morning?” He had known there was no hope even before the white coated figure shook his head, she was too weak. The sinking feeling inside was new to him. “Was it sorrow? How was it that he had never felt that way at his fathers passing or when he held his mother’s hand as she lay on her deathbed?” He strained his memory again. In a flash he saw the beautiful face, the vivacious eyes, the red bindhi, the sindhoor……smiling at him across the breakfast table. In an instant the vision vanished and the hospital room came into view, but the figure on the bed had the sheet pulled over its face. He did not know if it was the shock or a touch on his arm that had woken him from his reverie. Ram Menon was speaking to the sand, “It is over.”

He followed Menon to the car like a small child. The wind was getting stronger. They were speeding towards the hospital when the tempest broke. Torrents of rain buffeted the windows and the windscreen wiper couldn’t move fast enough. Narendra Varma did something he had not done even once since he was a five year old. He broke down and cried.

By

Dipti Mohanan

XII A(2005)