​It was dark outside. Nothing was visible, not even the lofty barren mountains that surrounded our village- a remote and isolated one.  Outside, the rain was falling. The chilly gusts of wind with the taste of rain had well-nigh depeopled the paths that connected the houses, dotting the landscape here and there. To escape the harsh cold, people found it feasible to remain confined to their little houses. The whole village, lying snug and sleepy in the darkness, was wrapped in deep silence.

I was alone in my village house as my parents and my younger brother had gone off to the city to attend a relative’s function. I was sitting in my room, buried in a wicker chair beside the faint light of a wax candle, reading an old book of short stories. The silence of the night gave a lift to my thoughts and my imagination led me to the setting of the story, when suddenly I heard a rattling sound on the main door of the house. At first, I presumed it to be the work of the wind. The thumping died for some time, and as I began to read, it echoed again. This time with great intensity. And a horrific sound pierced through the room. It provoked me to see the cause of the noise―whether somebody was at the door or was it due to the wind. I was a bit alarmed as my parents would not be coming till the next three days, and no one usually visited our house or any other house in the village at such time of the night. 

There was no electricity in the village, so I walked up to the door with a candle in my right hand, the left hand busy steadying the flickering flame. As I moved towards the main door, I saw my magnified silhouette tracing the lengths and breadths of the bare white walls. 

“Who is it?” I called to find out whether it was the wind or some person.

“Me,” came the answer amid thunder and lightning. “Will you please let me inside?” said a voice that was feminine.

I opened the door. What I saw before me was a damsel in a devasted look. Her hair was almost dishevelled, with water dripping from it like tears of sorrow and blood was oozing from her left temple. Her sandals were torn and covered in mud. The picture in front of me was that of a perturbed woman. Feeling slightly frightened, I, however, regained my lost composure instantly without letting her have a feel of it.

“Can I spend this night here?” she implored hesitatingly.

Without allowing myself to decide on her fate, I let her in and closed the door.

In the room, I made the lady in the lurch comfortable by offering her a towel to dry up and gave her my mother’s suit from the cupboard to change in. Meanwhile, I went to the kitchen to prepare a cup of steaming tea and offered it to her. Though the room was warm, but it was not warm enough to bring the lady out from the cold. I added more charcoal to the dying embers in the heater so as to fill the room with hot air. The crackling charcoal soon shot out bright tongues of flame. As the temperature inside the room began to rise, so began the redness rise on her ashen-face till it glowed like the burning coal.

Speechless and motionless, she resembled a statue, staring without batting her eyelids. It was quiet in the room except for the crackling sound of coal. Her calm exterior was testimony to her disturbed interior. However, I couldn’t get any inkling of the storm that was raging inside her till I broke the ice by asking her who she was and how she came here. Her sighs smelled a story of sorrows and sufferings.

Keeping her eyes cast down as if in mourning, she narrated:

“Exactly five years ago, I was studying medicine at the Govt. Medical College. Having a middle-class past at my back, I was bubbling with enthusiasm on having fulfilled my cherished dream. Having settled into my new life and new environs, I used to attend my classes and started learning the tricks of the new trade. 

Everything was going well when one day, while in the operation theatre, I was fiddling with tools carelessly; a senior student shouted at me, “Hey, what are you doing there? These are not the toys to play with but instruments of operation.” He scolded me as if I were a child. I almost burst into tears but checked them. Feeling sorry for his misdemeanour, he said politely, “I didn’t intend to hurt you, but only to caution you.”

Realising my mistake, I left the OT without making a fuss about the situation. Days passed by, and my studies went smoothly. One day, it happened that he was laid up with a fever and was admitted to the hospital. Since he was a member of the medical fraternity, he was taken care of as a special case. Though senior doctors were attending to him, I was asked to look after him as a part of the training course.

During the days in the hospital, we came close to each other, and the acquaintance turned into a friendship, and friendship blossomed into love. We smelled love in almost all things we did together- eating, walking, sleeping, reading and working. We shared smiles and sorrows, failure and success, weal and woes. It was a newfound world for both of us- quite charming and beautiful.

Then came the Doomsday- the day Amitesh had to leave the college as he had completed his studies being two years senior to me.

But before leaving, he took me into confidence and assured me that come what may, we would unite for life and would be separated only by death.

After his departure, the college seemed to be a boring place. I started to lose interest in things. The institution which was once my destination, now instituted my destruction. Things began to fall apart. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies, which in turn affected my results. My carelessness in handling patients caused them to complain against me. Where they deserved sympathy, they were scolded, where they needed attention, they were neglected. I became unconvincing, uncontrollable and even apathetic.

Ultimately, a day came when the Dean of the college summoned me into his office chamber and told me in no uncertain terms to leave the college once and for all.

I was shell-shocked and humiliated. My dream world blew into pieces. I could see nothing, even in brightness. My heart beat faster, and my ears failed to perceive any sounds. I could feel my legs shaking and my body sweating. 

It took me days to absorb the shock. Before I could steady myself came another shock. This was like a bolt from the blue. Amitesh snapped ties and became incommunicado for reasons unknown to me. I waited for him for days together. Days lengthened into weeks, then into months, but he was untraceable. I explored every other means to contact him. I went through hell, but no endeavour bore fruit. I was desperately looking for him here and there.

Then, yesterday, I came across an old acquaintance of him. He and Amitesh were from different colleges but shared the same rented accommodation. I had met him in the past. After meeting him yesterday, he told me that Amitesh had married and that he and his wife were running a Nursing home in a city.

This was news to me. I could not beIieve what I had heard. I didn’t trust him. Maybe he did not want me to see Amitesh and had made up a story. But why would he do so? What would he gain? But I had no alternative but to trust his assertion. I became restless and impatient to ascertain the truth. I found wisdom in not wasting further time, and I boarded the city bus. During its journey, the bus developed a mechanical snag, and the driver lost control of the bus while negotiating the curve and rolled into a deep gorge.

Many passengers lost their lives, and some were badly hurt. There were children, women, men, old and young. I somehow escaped unscathed except for the injury, you see, at my temple. Frightened and horrified, I clambered over a big boulder where I steadied myself. After regaining my lost confidence, I managed to reach the road. 

As it was getting dark, I decided to seek shelter in a nearby house. After walking some distance, I saw a flickering flame in the window of the house you are staying in and knocked at the door.”

After narrating her story, she became quiet again. By this time, the night slipped over us and over the entire village.

Breaking the silence, I asked her what she was going to do further. 

“Going to search for him”, came her answer.

“May I accompany you?” I asked hesitatingly.

“Only if it is not a problem,” she replied, looking at me.

After that, I left her in the room with a burning candle beside the bed. I took the book that I was reading with me into the adjacent room and wished her a goodnight’s sleep.

The next morning, we boarded an early bus that fetched passengers from another remote village. The bus travelled through several villages and cities to reach that one city where we were headed. After an hour’s journey, we were in the heart of the City, which was readying itself for the day’s business. Now began the frantic effort to find the friend.

We went east. We went west. We went everywhere. We asked everyone, ‘Have you seen such a person?’ Displaying his photograph and the name of his clinic. Some stared, others laughed. Some showed sympathy. At times, we suffered the anguish of deception. And on the road, in resting places, we always talked of him. We spoke of nothing else. No! not of hunger and thirst. The only relief was the weather. It was not raining anymore. The sky was clear, and the sun was warming up the creatures. 

We walked and walked. We went into each and every lane. We struck every door. Ultimately, when we were sitting near a public park, she caught up with the man of her dreams, but with a woman in his arms. Perhaps his friend was indeed right about the marriage. Looking astonishingly at each other, they remained silent for a moment. While Amitesh’s wife and I kept our gaze fixed on them. Feeling embarrassed, Amitesh broke the silence by asking her, “Hi Manushi, how are you?”

It was from him that I came to know the name of the woman I had been accompanying the whole time, as I had not asked for the same.

“Manushi,” I repeated the name in my mind.

“I am fine”, said Manushi in a tone barely audible.

“Manushi, this is my wife Sudha, and this is our son Yash”, said Amitesh while pointing towards his wife and child. “It is a pleasant surprise. I am so glad to see you after all these years. But I am sorry,” he added, bringing his son close to him, “we are in a hurry and have to attend a function. Hope you would excuse us.” With these words, they left in a huff.

Manushi got transfixed, and her voice stuck in her throat. She tried to speak, but her tongue stopped the words from coming out. Dumbfounded, she could not speak anything. She just bid them adieu by raising her hand awkwardly. She was a devasted woman again. Her eyes swelled with tears but let not flow them. She remained looking at the departing couple helplessly, and I stood standing beside her.

During this brief encounter, I found in her a woman of conviction, courage and courtesy. Her personality- a blend of these qualities drew me towards her. I developed a liking for her. But I couldn’t muster the courage to tell her this fact. Fearing that could a betrayed person ever trust again, lending further credence to the dictum: once bitten, twice shy? I remained silent. 

While I was lost in my thoughts, she boarded a bus back home and bid me a hurried goodbye, never to see her again.

…

Satyarth Pandita is a Junior Research Fellow at the National Institute of Mental Health and Neuro Sciences, Bengaluru (NIMHANS). He completed his dual degree of Bachelor of Science and Master of Science in Biological Sciences (major) and Humanities and Social Sciences (minor) from the Indian Institute of Science Education and Research Bhopal (IISERB). His works have appeared in various newspapers and periodicals, including The Quint, Outlook India, Madras Courier, Borderless, and Kitaab, among others.

Links to Satyarth’s published works, email address and social media handles can be found here.