What The Eyes Don't See

24 | Childhood House

The early morning stillness in the girls' house was shattered by a sudden piercing ring. It was the phone, vibrating away on the floor. It rang several times until it died away. Ten minutes later, it rang again. This time, a pair of feet stepped into the kitchen. They belonged to Gina. She stooped and squinted at the number. Spending a moment in thought, she picked up the phone.

"Hello," said Anay quickly at the other end. "Sorry to call you so early in the morning, Shan. But I am seeing this flight on—"

"I won't be able to come after all, Anay," said Gina, but the voice that left her mouth was remarkably Shanaya's.

"But I got your message last night..."

"I gave it some more thought." Words continued to flow out of Gina's mouth in a muffled voice. "Won't be able to come. You go ahead. I am sorry, Anay."

The phone went dead.

And so did Gina.

Her spent body slumped onto the kitchen floor, and the spirit that had used her as a vessel burst out of it and out of the kitchen window into the still-dark morning outside.

***

Sitting at the airport in a red hoodie with strings around the neck and blue jeans, and a backpack slung around his shoulders that had only his bare essentials, Anay contemplated on calling Shanaya again. He had tried her number twice after the morning call, but she hadn't responded. He saw the message that he had sent, which was unanswered as well. He sighed. She might have her reasons. He was sure she meant him well. He cursed himself—it was too much to ask of someone. He resigned himself to the understanding that this was something he had to do alone, which had been his first thought anyway. It had eventually come to that.

A message made him look down at his phone. It was an SMS from the silent airport to proceed to the departure gate.

Sighing, Anay picked up his bag and walked in the direction of the gate.

He felt the shadow following him. He saw it when he walked for the security check. In the glass of the cabin ahead, he saw someone standing behind him, but disappeared when he turned back to look. He had the same feeling when he was at the cafeteria sipping on ridiculously overpriced terrible coffee. Even when he got into the flight, he saw something moving in the upper baggage area. It terrified him. Was his curse be so vengeful that it would harm the other passengers on the plane? The thoughts stayed with him till the plane took off and then its movement lulled him into the embrace of sleep.

***

Anay walked out of the Devi Ahilyabai Holkar International Airport with bemusement on his face. The city looked different from the Indore he had left behind. His hometown had undergone a makeover. The airport itself had become a major terminal from just the airstrip that he had known. The roads had been widened and now resembled the roads he had seen in slick Hollywood movies. His biggest observation, however, was that there was not a speck of litter on the road. He had heard about Indore winning the 'Cleanest City of India' title for several years, and there was a board proudly proclaiming it at the airport itself, but he had never expected that his hometown would have changed so dramatically. It only served as a reminder that it was long since he had visited home.

This was a long overdue visit.

During the one-hour ride from the airport to his home, he prepared himself for meeting his mother after so long. There had been many phone calls over the years, but he had avoided going back to visit. He could not see his face in the rear-view mirror of the car.

He remembered the fight with his elder brother after he had announced his decision to move to Mumbai. His brother had called him a fool who would get lost in the city, and he had shot back that he wanted to be independent and not live off the business that their father had established. Before the fight could turn any uglier, Anay had taken his two suitcases and walked out of the door. But was it independence that he was looking for or was it the selfishness of wanting to live a life without familial responsibilities?

When had his selfishness consumed him so entirely that he had broken all ties with his roots?

Many emotions awaited him at the door of his house. His mother, Alka, nearly collapsed in a surfeit of tears. He greeted his two brothers stiffly—the elder one who was married and had a toddler already, and the younger one who was preparing for his ICS. For a moment as memories of his childhood returned to him, Anay forgot about his life in the city. A part of him told him that he could beg his family's forgiveness and just stay here and forget it all.

But the next moment, he chided himself for that thought. It was again a selfish thought. Anay reminded himself that had gone away from the house on his own accord, and now would he want to put his family at the mercy of the evil that was plaguing him just because he wasn't able to take care of it? And what was he thinking anyway? The prodigal son is tearfully taken back into the house only in biblical stories.

He reminded himself of his state. Even mere minutes ago, as he had entered the gate, he had felt the push. Someone had shoved him inside, as if in a hurry to get along. He had looked behind but there was no one. With a chill, he realized that the shadow had never left him. He had turned into his constant companion. He was just waiting and watching, waiting for his next move. It terrified him. What if someone at home sensed it and asked him who he had brought along?

"I'm only here for a couple of days, Mom," he told his mother over lunch, the first hearty meal he had in years. "It's not a holiday. I have come here on office work and will leave when it's done." He made sure his elder brother was listening.

His mother said nothing. She understood. Perhaps she saw through the lie, but like all mothers are wont to, she understood.

"I hope you are doing well, son," she said. "You look haggard and exhausted. I hope you are eating well."

"I am, Mom."

"I can understand that you are busy. You have to fulfil your dreams, after all. To become a big man, a CEO of some hotshot company. That's what you want, isn't it? You will do that, son. You will even make your father proud of you."

Then, Anay understood what he had really been dreading. It was this talk about his father, Gopal Chandra. He hadn't attended any of his death anniversary prayers, which were elaborate ceremonies shouldered by his elder brother. He could not justify to his family that he had never had a chance to get away from his work. No one in the corporate world requested a leave under the pretext of a parent's death anniversary; that sort of thing was never sanctioned. But that did not deter his family from considering it to be an unforgivable failure of his filial responsibility, and it was a constant pebble in his shoe.

It is said in the scriptures—which he had been taught as a child—that one's failure towards their family comes back to haunt them in various ways. The shadow of those sins never leaves you. Maybe that was why his life was so fucked up? Was it payment for his past sins?

There was not much talk after that. He had nothing to talk to his brothers. They were in a different life altogether. There were awkward silences between conversations that he could no longer bear. These were the people with whom he used to be able to chat up a storm, and now they were strangers to him. He was merely a guest now who was to be fed well, given shelter and a few courteous words, and then sent along the way. He could no longer stop his tears.