The phone rang and with little interest he received it. Who calls when I'm busy?
"Hello.", he quipped.
"Busy?", asked the voice from the other end.
"Oh sweetheart! I'm never busy for you."
"Is that so?', laughed the voice, a naughty little laugh.
"You doubt?"
"Come home early today."
"Why?"
"I have a cute little gift for you."
"Darling, I'm on my way.", he hung up smiling to himself.
Buttoning his suit, he called a few of his workers and instructed them about the day's work and left for home. He was a famous business tycoon, Mr. Ujaan Chaterjee, who dealt in diamonds and lived in Mumbai, in a huge mansion with his beautiful wife Mrs. Hemlata Chaterjee.
He had met Hemlata when she was doing her graduation in English Literature from Jadavpur University and he had visited Kolkata for a month's vacation. Hemlata's best friend was his sister, Mitali Chaterjee. It so happened that the friendship between these two strangers took a different road and before Hemlata could become a graduate, she was married off to Mr. Chaterjee and became Mrs. Hemlata Chaterjee. She traveled to Mumbai on the night of her reception and thus began her new life as Mr. Chaterjee's lawful wife. Though she was eight years his junior, they were the happiest couple among all of Mr. Chaterjee's friends. Mr. Chaterjee gave her every happiness that he could and she in return never once complained of having to leave her education incomplete. Instead, she kept the house and made it a home . She cooked delicious Bengali cuisine, much to her husband's delight and Mr. Chaterjee got back the feel that he had missed for years. She decorated the house with her paintings and it was Mr. Chaterjee who felt proud when visitors complimented his talented young wife.
Mr. Chaterjee was a workaholic and worked every minute of the day, but he was always free for his Hem. There was also a slight feeling of insecurity in his heart as Hem was a pure bong beauty, a rare sight for all Bengalis living in Mumbai and he could never trust his bachelor friends. He was a short tempered man and never really understood Hem's obsession over books. While he was always loud and bursting, Hem was sophisticated and silent. Despite all their differences, Hem and Ujaan loved each other with everything.
That evening when Mr. |Chaterjee was driving back home, he kept on wondering what could that cute gift be. Maybe she has baked little cupcakes for me... or maybe she had ordered something for me and it has arrived... Mr. Chaterjee could never think of anything that was not materialistic.
He parked the car in front of the house and got off, softly whistling to himself. "Hem!", he called out as he opened the door, "I'm home Love".
Hem's voice came from the first floor and he ran up the stairs while unbuttoning his suit. There in their bedroom, sat Hem with a little baby boy on her lap. The bed was covered with toys and little baby clothes were spread on the other side of the bed. Hem smiled looking up at him as he stood beside her in bewilderment. "Here, hold him. This is your son Mr. Chaterjee.", she said shyly.
He continued standing with his hands in his pockets. A few seconds later, he replied,"My son?"
"Yes. Take him in your arms."
"Wait Hem. Who is he?"
"He is your son, Ishaan Chaterjee."
"What are you saying? From where did you get this baby?"
"Actually, I had told you about the old lady who stays in that small house beside the grocery store."
"Whom you've been meeting every week, that lady?"
"Yeah. I had also mentioned his grandson... she lives with her five month old grandson. That her son and daughter-in-law had died in a car accident."
"Well yeah."
"Unfortunately, she died last night of a sudden heart attack and her neighbors found in her diary that she had written...", she broke down.
"Written what Hem?", he asked after comforting her into silence.
"That after she died, her little boy would be looked after by us as she had no other family. In fact I was the one who had promised her that she needn't worry of her old age as we would always look after her boy if she left the world. And so she had written down in her diary. And honestly Ujaan, what would have happened to this little baby if I hadn't been there?"
"He would have gone to an orphanage like all other orphans in the world."
"But we are there. And I have always loved him as my own son. So I have brought him here. He is our son now. We will call him Ishaan. We will provide the evidence and get his name changed. And our family will be complete Ujaan! We'll become parents. In fact we already have. Isn't this a blessing?"
"Not at all."
"Ujaan?
"Adopting a baby? That too of some random lady? I mean... loving someone else's child is not my thing. I can't love someone who is not my own"
"Believe him to be our own Ujaan. It's not necessary that only blood relations are our own. People who genuinely care for us are own. They might or might not be related by blood Ujaan, but that hardly matters."
"It does. I cannot accept someone else's child."
"But I thought you would also like a little baby in the house."
"Of course I would like but not someone else's child. I wanted a child of our own and..."
"But you know we can't have a child of our own."
"I know dear but we are okay without a child as well."
"No Ujaan, No. We are not okay. This house is so big and after you leave every morning I'm the only soul in the house. It comes to swallow me. The loneliness haunts. It's frustrating!! Plus, once I get my motherhood fulfilled, I'll have no more complaints against life."
"But darling I'm there for you always. And, how can any random kid fulfill your motherhood?"
"No Ujaan. You are always in your office. Till late into the night. So many nights I fall asleep on the sofa waiting for you. And, he can. He might be a random kid but he is a kid. And every kid can fulfill parenthood. All he needs is love"
"Wait. I'm working always but that's solely for you. I work so hard only for you."
"How is that?"
"If I don't work hard then how will I get you those expensive gifts that I bring for you?"
"I never wanted gifts. All I wanted was companionship. But you were always busy. Yet I never complained. I understood your pressure being a reputed businessman. But you? Even after we lost the child, you kept busy with your product launch. Even then you couldn't spend time with me. You could never see the pain in my eyes, never feel the loneliness.", tears built at the edges of her eyes again...
"Hem, even I had lost the child. I also went through the same pain."
"But you had your business and product launch and meetings and tours. You had your way out of the pain, but I suffered each day of the last one year and I was waiting for you to one day come and hold my hand and say that you would share my grief, reduce my emptiness. But you didn't Ujaan. And yet I kept quite because I loved you. I still had faith in you..."
"Hem, I do love you. I love you a lot..."
"No you don't."
"Oh don't say that my dear. I'm ready to do everything for you..."
"Then accept our Ishaan.", Hem demanded, "or else I'll leave for Calcutta."
"No no wait. Hem, don't go away. Okay, this boy can stay in this house but please I can't be his father."
"Ujaan?!", cried Hem aghast.
"No Hem.", he cut her, "I have never been able to understand your thoughts and I still don't but I respect them. So you too respect my feelings and keep this boy away from me. I'll go to the court and complete the legal proceedings but I can't father him. I can't act like his father. No. And you will not force me. I'm going to my office. Bye."
He drove off at full speed.
Though Mr. Chaterjee couldn't tolerate the boy, Hem found her lost identity as a mother and lived rosy days with her little Ishaan. Every night they fell asleep reading children's bedtime stories and during breakfast, after Mr. Chaterjee had left, they would read fairy tales. Hem taught him to paint and play the harmonium. At a very young age little Ishaan had learnt a lot of creative arts from his mother and was slowly becoming a bookworm. Mornings were his favourite time of the day when he would go about the house holding the end of his mother's saree and hear stories about kings and queens and battles and heroic victories. After Hem would finish cooking, they would sit with pencils and crayons and paint bright pictures of mountains, trees and villages. They would also practice sargam on the harmonium and when Ishaan grew up a little, maybe five years of age, Hem started teaching him Tagore's songs.
Mr. Chaterjee's return marked the end of his happy hours. He always snapped at the little boy and deliberately kept Hem away from him. Every time Ishaan called out "Baba", Mr. Chaterjee would shout the house down with his booming voice and harsh words.
"I'm not you baba haven't I told you? Never call me baba again."
"But then what will I call you?"
"Nothing. Don't call me anything. Just don't call me ever."
Ishaan would run weeping, into Hem's arm and kissing him gently she would wipe the tears off his dark innocent eyes. Every time Ishaan ran to welcome him when he returned from work, he would be pushed away with utter ignorance. Hem could never approve of such behaviour towards her child. She would speak up and it would result in heated arguments between the once peaceful couple. But she couldn't do anything else because she knew that Mr. Chaterjee was the financial pillar of their lives. And she couldn't dream of being a single parent with incomplete education and living in India.
Innocent as Ishaan was he would still run to Mr. Chaterjee every evening and be pushed aside. He would still innocently call him "baba" and be shouted at.
Later that year, when Mr. Chaterjee returned from one of his business tours, Ishaan leaped with joy upon his arrival. "I will see baba after one whole week Maa. I'm so happy!", he told Hem.
How I wish he too would be so happy. But alas! Thought Hem.
That night, Mr. Chaterjee was emptying his trolley and showing Hem the gifts he had got for her when Ishaan came jumping with excitement.
"What have you brought for me?"
"Go away boy."
"But baba, my gift?"
"There's no gift for you and I'm not your baba.", he burst out, and left the room with a file in his hand. He went downstairs to sit with his work again and tried to calm down. How he hated it when Ishaan called him baba.
Back in the room, a crying Ishaan was comforted by his ever loving mother and sitting on her lap finally managed a smile after Hem had given him lot's of hugs and kisses.
"Baba doesn't love me at all, isn't it?"
"No my dear. That's not true."
"Then why does he always scold me?"
"Fathers always scold their child because they love them a lot."
"But then why didn't he bring me any gift?"
"Because he is planning a surprise for you."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll go and give him a big good night kiss right now.", and saying so, he ran out of the room and down the stairs calling ecstatically, "BABAAAA!!!"
Hem ran behind him to stop him. She knew that her husband would lose all his cool once again he hears a "baba" from Ishaan.
Down in the hall Mr. Chaterjee was holding a cup of coffee on one hand and clutching some important papers in the other, going through the contract papers of the next big deal. As Ishaan plunged into him the coffee spilled over all the contract papers and everything was spoiled. even his suit was coffee stained and for Mr. Chaterjee, this was the limit. He slapped him hard across the face.
As Hem spent that night comforting an upset Ishann, Mr. Chaterjee sat fuming in the hall and made up his mind of sending Ishaan to a boarding school. Next morning he announced his decision and left Hem shocked. It didn't affect him and he informed that Ishaan would be sent away in a week.
"He is too small to stay in a boarding school and he has never been without me."
"I don't want to hear of anything. I've had enough of his nonsense and he is going to a boarding school and that's final."
"He can't do anything on his own. He needs me Ujaan."
"That's even better. He'll learn everything."
"No Ujaan please. I'll not be able to live without him."
"You did before he came so you can now also."
"No Ujaan please!"
"It's just a matter of habit."
"Ujaan no!"
"My decision is final."
"Please Ujaan."
"Stop it Hem."
"Ujaan please.", she pleaded, but Mr. Chaterjee turned deaf ears.
After a few days he drove him to his school. While leaving the house Ishaan made many requests but it seemed that Mr. Chaterjee had become a cold-hearted monster. Ishann cried for two days without a pause and was down with fever, yet Mr. Chaterjee wasn't moved.
Before leaving the house, he turned back once and shouted with a shivering voice that made Hem feel the shudders down her spine.
"Even you have stopped loving me Maa. Even you have stopped loving me!"
Ishaan sat crying in the car and pleading to him in the most innocent way possible.
"I'll not call you baba, Promise. Please don't send me away."
"I love you baba. Please let me stay with you and maa."
"Sorry baba. No baba. Please!"
"I don't want to go, baba please!!"
And with an emotionless face he dropped him off at the school.
Back at home, Hem cried to sleep every night and hardly spoke a word to Mr. Chaterjee when he returned. They ate in silence and the silence deepened with each day.
"See, recover from the depression Hem. That boy will come back during his holidays."
"But until then? What will I live with? Can you tell me? for whom will I worry and whom will I hover over? Whom will I teach to paint and to sing? Whom will I read stories to? Whom will I share my loneliness with? Once again Ujaan, once again you have filled my life with emptiness. Once again I have become all alone. There's no one with me. No one!"
"Hem..."
"Ujaan, you never understood my loneliness. Never! You always took my feelings for granted. Every time you hurt Ishaan, I wept seeing his painful eyes. And that day when you slapped him, it was me who felt the blow. I'm his mother Ujaan. You cannot separate me from my child. And the day you sent him away, you lost me too. But you cannot understand anything because I'm still here. But one day you will. One day you will feel how loneliness hurts. One day you will."
***
A few months later, he received a call in his office that Hem had met with an accident. He rushed to the hospital with a palpitating heart. Upon his arrival, he was notified about her death. Hem's absence left him devastated and all alone. Ishaan came and left without a word. He cried silently in his room hugging his mother's picture. Mr. Chaterjee watched him from a distance, sometimes tried to talk with him, but his ego came his way. The day Ishaan left for his school, Mr. Chaterjee silently wished that once Ishaan would turn back and call him "baba". But Ishaan left without a word.
After Ishaan's departure Mr. Chaterjee felt broken to bits. He was lost in a world which he couldn't fathom. He returned from work to an empty house. He had no one to welcome him. No one came running into his arms. For the very first time in all these years, he felt the true value of companionship. He missed Ishaan. He went to his room and ran his fingers through his books and his belongings. He hugged Ishaan's photo and cried incessantly.
Hem was correct...no gift, no riches can substitute the joy that a child gives... no jewelery can fill the emptiness in one's life... Hem had been so alone... Oh!
He missed Hem and more than the loneliness, a father's guilt of neglecting his son, haunted him. He became restless without his boy and the constant worry of his well being troubled him. He lost sleep and appetite until one day he realised that he needed Ishaan... he needed Ishaan because he loved him, he depended on him, he was his father.
The next day he drove to his school and picked up Ishaan in his arms. Ishaan was surprised and exclaimed, "Baba?"
Mr. Chaterjee's heart filled with joy. He hugged him and kissed him and tears formed at the edges of his eyes. With little fingers, Ishaan wiped his face and Mr. Chaterjee said, "Come home son. It's incomplete without you."
"No.", cried Ishaan, "You'll scold me always."
He leapt off his arms and started walking towards his class. Fighting back his tears Mr. Chaterjee turned around and started walking out of the corridor when suddenly he felt a soft tug at his left thumb. He looked around and Ishhan asked him, "Will you let me call you baba?'
"Yes my dear.", said Mr. Chaterjee.
"And will feed me everyday?"
"Definitely son."
"And will you play with me, like maa did?"
"Anytime you want.", he smiled through his tears.
"I love you baba.", Ishaan smiled innocently, his deep, dark eyes brightening up.
Mr. Chaterjee hugged his little son tightly, vowing to love him forever and deep down his heart, silently thanked Hem for keeping back her love for him in the form of their son, Ishaan.
"Hello.", he quipped.
"Busy?", asked the voice from the other end.
"Oh sweetheart! I'm never busy for you."
"Is that so?', laughed the voice, a naughty little laugh.
"You doubt?"
"Come home early today."
"Why?"
"I have a cute little gift for you."
"Darling, I'm on my way.", he hung up smiling to himself.
Buttoning his suit, he called a few of his workers and instructed them about the day's work and left for home. He was a famous business tycoon, Mr. Ujaan Chaterjee, who dealt in diamonds and lived in Mumbai, in a huge mansion with his beautiful wife Mrs. Hemlata Chaterjee.
He had met Hemlata when she was doing her graduation in English Literature from Jadavpur University and he had visited Kolkata for a month's vacation. Hemlata's best friend was his sister, Mitali Chaterjee. It so happened that the friendship between these two strangers took a different road and before Hemlata could become a graduate, she was married off to Mr. Chaterjee and became Mrs. Hemlata Chaterjee. She traveled to Mumbai on the night of her reception and thus began her new life as Mr. Chaterjee's lawful wife. Though she was eight years his junior, they were the happiest couple among all of Mr. Chaterjee's friends. Mr. Chaterjee gave her every happiness that he could and she in return never once complained of having to leave her education incomplete. Instead, she kept the house and made it a home . She cooked delicious Bengali cuisine, much to her husband's delight and Mr. Chaterjee got back the feel that he had missed for years. She decorated the house with her paintings and it was Mr. Chaterjee who felt proud when visitors complimented his talented young wife.
Mr. Chaterjee was a workaholic and worked every minute of the day, but he was always free for his Hem. There was also a slight feeling of insecurity in his heart as Hem was a pure bong beauty, a rare sight for all Bengalis living in Mumbai and he could never trust his bachelor friends. He was a short tempered man and never really understood Hem's obsession over books. While he was always loud and bursting, Hem was sophisticated and silent. Despite all their differences, Hem and Ujaan loved each other with everything.
That evening when Mr. |Chaterjee was driving back home, he kept on wondering what could that cute gift be. Maybe she has baked little cupcakes for me... or maybe she had ordered something for me and it has arrived... Mr. Chaterjee could never think of anything that was not materialistic.
He parked the car in front of the house and got off, softly whistling to himself. "Hem!", he called out as he opened the door, "I'm home Love".
Hem's voice came from the first floor and he ran up the stairs while unbuttoning his suit. There in their bedroom, sat Hem with a little baby boy on her lap. The bed was covered with toys and little baby clothes were spread on the other side of the bed. Hem smiled looking up at him as he stood beside her in bewilderment. "Here, hold him. This is your son Mr. Chaterjee.", she said shyly.
He continued standing with his hands in his pockets. A few seconds later, he replied,"My son?"
"Yes. Take him in your arms."
"Wait Hem. Who is he?"
"He is your son, Ishaan Chaterjee."
"What are you saying? From where did you get this baby?"
"Actually, I had told you about the old lady who stays in that small house beside the grocery store."
"Whom you've been meeting every week, that lady?"
"Yeah. I had also mentioned his grandson... she lives with her five month old grandson. That her son and daughter-in-law had died in a car accident."
"Well yeah."
"Unfortunately, she died last night of a sudden heart attack and her neighbors found in her diary that she had written...", she broke down.
"Written what Hem?", he asked after comforting her into silence.
"That after she died, her little boy would be looked after by us as she had no other family. In fact I was the one who had promised her that she needn't worry of her old age as we would always look after her boy if she left the world. And so she had written down in her diary. And honestly Ujaan, what would have happened to this little baby if I hadn't been there?"
"He would have gone to an orphanage like all other orphans in the world."
"But we are there. And I have always loved him as my own son. So I have brought him here. He is our son now. We will call him Ishaan. We will provide the evidence and get his name changed. And our family will be complete Ujaan! We'll become parents. In fact we already have. Isn't this a blessing?"
"Not at all."
"Ujaan?
"Adopting a baby? That too of some random lady? I mean... loving someone else's child is not my thing. I can't love someone who is not my own"
"Believe him to be our own Ujaan. It's not necessary that only blood relations are our own. People who genuinely care for us are own. They might or might not be related by blood Ujaan, but that hardly matters."
"It does. I cannot accept someone else's child."
"But I thought you would also like a little baby in the house."
"Of course I would like but not someone else's child. I wanted a child of our own and..."
"But you know we can't have a child of our own."
"I know dear but we are okay without a child as well."
"No Ujaan, No. We are not okay. This house is so big and after you leave every morning I'm the only soul in the house. It comes to swallow me. The loneliness haunts. It's frustrating!! Plus, once I get my motherhood fulfilled, I'll have no more complaints against life."
"But darling I'm there for you always. And, how can any random kid fulfill your motherhood?"
"No Ujaan. You are always in your office. Till late into the night. So many nights I fall asleep on the sofa waiting for you. And, he can. He might be a random kid but he is a kid. And every kid can fulfill parenthood. All he needs is love"
"Wait. I'm working always but that's solely for you. I work so hard only for you."
"How is that?"
"If I don't work hard then how will I get you those expensive gifts that I bring for you?"
"I never wanted gifts. All I wanted was companionship. But you were always busy. Yet I never complained. I understood your pressure being a reputed businessman. But you? Even after we lost the child, you kept busy with your product launch. Even then you couldn't spend time with me. You could never see the pain in my eyes, never feel the loneliness.", tears built at the edges of her eyes again...
"Hem, even I had lost the child. I also went through the same pain."
"But you had your business and product launch and meetings and tours. You had your way out of the pain, but I suffered each day of the last one year and I was waiting for you to one day come and hold my hand and say that you would share my grief, reduce my emptiness. But you didn't Ujaan. And yet I kept quite because I loved you. I still had faith in you..."
"Hem, I do love you. I love you a lot..."
"No you don't."
"Oh don't say that my dear. I'm ready to do everything for you..."
"Then accept our Ishaan.", Hem demanded, "or else I'll leave for Calcutta."
"No no wait. Hem, don't go away. Okay, this boy can stay in this house but please I can't be his father."
"Ujaan?!", cried Hem aghast.
"No Hem.", he cut her, "I have never been able to understand your thoughts and I still don't but I respect them. So you too respect my feelings and keep this boy away from me. I'll go to the court and complete the legal proceedings but I can't father him. I can't act like his father. No. And you will not force me. I'm going to my office. Bye."
He drove off at full speed.
Though Mr. Chaterjee couldn't tolerate the boy, Hem found her lost identity as a mother and lived rosy days with her little Ishaan. Every night they fell asleep reading children's bedtime stories and during breakfast, after Mr. Chaterjee had left, they would read fairy tales. Hem taught him to paint and play the harmonium. At a very young age little Ishaan had learnt a lot of creative arts from his mother and was slowly becoming a bookworm. Mornings were his favourite time of the day when he would go about the house holding the end of his mother's saree and hear stories about kings and queens and battles and heroic victories. After Hem would finish cooking, they would sit with pencils and crayons and paint bright pictures of mountains, trees and villages. They would also practice sargam on the harmonium and when Ishaan grew up a little, maybe five years of age, Hem started teaching him Tagore's songs.
Mr. Chaterjee's return marked the end of his happy hours. He always snapped at the little boy and deliberately kept Hem away from him. Every time Ishaan called out "Baba", Mr. Chaterjee would shout the house down with his booming voice and harsh words.
"I'm not you baba haven't I told you? Never call me baba again."
"But then what will I call you?"
"Nothing. Don't call me anything. Just don't call me ever."
Ishaan would run weeping, into Hem's arm and kissing him gently she would wipe the tears off his dark innocent eyes. Every time Ishaan ran to welcome him when he returned from work, he would be pushed away with utter ignorance. Hem could never approve of such behaviour towards her child. She would speak up and it would result in heated arguments between the once peaceful couple. But she couldn't do anything else because she knew that Mr. Chaterjee was the financial pillar of their lives. And she couldn't dream of being a single parent with incomplete education and living in India.
Innocent as Ishaan was he would still run to Mr. Chaterjee every evening and be pushed aside. He would still innocently call him "baba" and be shouted at.
Later that year, when Mr. Chaterjee returned from one of his business tours, Ishaan leaped with joy upon his arrival. "I will see baba after one whole week Maa. I'm so happy!", he told Hem.
How I wish he too would be so happy. But alas! Thought Hem.
That night, Mr. Chaterjee was emptying his trolley and showing Hem the gifts he had got for her when Ishaan came jumping with excitement.
"What have you brought for me?"
"Go away boy."
"But baba, my gift?"
"There's no gift for you and I'm not your baba.", he burst out, and left the room with a file in his hand. He went downstairs to sit with his work again and tried to calm down. How he hated it when Ishaan called him baba.
Back in the room, a crying Ishaan was comforted by his ever loving mother and sitting on her lap finally managed a smile after Hem had given him lot's of hugs and kisses.
"Baba doesn't love me at all, isn't it?"
"No my dear. That's not true."
"Then why does he always scold me?"
"Fathers always scold their child because they love them a lot."
"But then why didn't he bring me any gift?"
"Because he is planning a surprise for you."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll go and give him a big good night kiss right now.", and saying so, he ran out of the room and down the stairs calling ecstatically, "BABAAAA!!!"
Hem ran behind him to stop him. She knew that her husband would lose all his cool once again he hears a "baba" from Ishaan.
Down in the hall Mr. Chaterjee was holding a cup of coffee on one hand and clutching some important papers in the other, going through the contract papers of the next big deal. As Ishaan plunged into him the coffee spilled over all the contract papers and everything was spoiled. even his suit was coffee stained and for Mr. Chaterjee, this was the limit. He slapped him hard across the face.
As Hem spent that night comforting an upset Ishann, Mr. Chaterjee sat fuming in the hall and made up his mind of sending Ishaan to a boarding school. Next morning he announced his decision and left Hem shocked. It didn't affect him and he informed that Ishaan would be sent away in a week.
"He is too small to stay in a boarding school and he has never been without me."
"I don't want to hear of anything. I've had enough of his nonsense and he is going to a boarding school and that's final."
"He can't do anything on his own. He needs me Ujaan."
"That's even better. He'll learn everything."
"No Ujaan please. I'll not be able to live without him."
"You did before he came so you can now also."
"No Ujaan please!"
"It's just a matter of habit."
"Ujaan no!"
"My decision is final."
"Please Ujaan."
"Stop it Hem."
"Ujaan please.", she pleaded, but Mr. Chaterjee turned deaf ears.
After a few days he drove him to his school. While leaving the house Ishaan made many requests but it seemed that Mr. Chaterjee had become a cold-hearted monster. Ishann cried for two days without a pause and was down with fever, yet Mr. Chaterjee wasn't moved.
Before leaving the house, he turned back once and shouted with a shivering voice that made Hem feel the shudders down her spine.
"Even you have stopped loving me Maa. Even you have stopped loving me!"
Ishaan sat crying in the car and pleading to him in the most innocent way possible.
"I'll not call you baba, Promise. Please don't send me away."
"I love you baba. Please let me stay with you and maa."
"Sorry baba. No baba. Please!"
"I don't want to go, baba please!!"
And with an emotionless face he dropped him off at the school.
Back at home, Hem cried to sleep every night and hardly spoke a word to Mr. Chaterjee when he returned. They ate in silence and the silence deepened with each day.
"See, recover from the depression Hem. That boy will come back during his holidays."
"But until then? What will I live with? Can you tell me? for whom will I worry and whom will I hover over? Whom will I teach to paint and to sing? Whom will I read stories to? Whom will I share my loneliness with? Once again Ujaan, once again you have filled my life with emptiness. Once again I have become all alone. There's no one with me. No one!"
"Hem..."
"Ujaan, you never understood my loneliness. Never! You always took my feelings for granted. Every time you hurt Ishaan, I wept seeing his painful eyes. And that day when you slapped him, it was me who felt the blow. I'm his mother Ujaan. You cannot separate me from my child. And the day you sent him away, you lost me too. But you cannot understand anything because I'm still here. But one day you will. One day you will feel how loneliness hurts. One day you will."
***
A few months later, he received a call in his office that Hem had met with an accident. He rushed to the hospital with a palpitating heart. Upon his arrival, he was notified about her death. Hem's absence left him devastated and all alone. Ishaan came and left without a word. He cried silently in his room hugging his mother's picture. Mr. Chaterjee watched him from a distance, sometimes tried to talk with him, but his ego came his way. The day Ishaan left for his school, Mr. Chaterjee silently wished that once Ishaan would turn back and call him "baba". But Ishaan left without a word.
After Ishaan's departure Mr. Chaterjee felt broken to bits. He was lost in a world which he couldn't fathom. He returned from work to an empty house. He had no one to welcome him. No one came running into his arms. For the very first time in all these years, he felt the true value of companionship. He missed Ishaan. He went to his room and ran his fingers through his books and his belongings. He hugged Ishaan's photo and cried incessantly.
Hem was correct...no gift, no riches can substitute the joy that a child gives... no jewelery can fill the emptiness in one's life... Hem had been so alone... Oh!
He missed Hem and more than the loneliness, a father's guilt of neglecting his son, haunted him. He became restless without his boy and the constant worry of his well being troubled him. He lost sleep and appetite until one day he realised that he needed Ishaan... he needed Ishaan because he loved him, he depended on him, he was his father.
The next day he drove to his school and picked up Ishaan in his arms. Ishaan was surprised and exclaimed, "Baba?"
Mr. Chaterjee's heart filled with joy. He hugged him and kissed him and tears formed at the edges of his eyes. With little fingers, Ishaan wiped his face and Mr. Chaterjee said, "Come home son. It's incomplete without you."
"No.", cried Ishaan, "You'll scold me always."
He leapt off his arms and started walking towards his class. Fighting back his tears Mr. Chaterjee turned around and started walking out of the corridor when suddenly he felt a soft tug at his left thumb. He looked around and Ishhan asked him, "Will you let me call you baba?'
"Yes my dear.", said Mr. Chaterjee.
"And will feed me everyday?"
"Definitely son."
"And will you play with me, like maa did?"
"Anytime you want.", he smiled through his tears.
"I love you baba.", Ishaan smiled innocently, his deep, dark eyes brightening up.
Mr. Chaterjee hugged his little son tightly, vowing to love him forever and deep down his heart, silently thanked Hem for keeping back her love for him in the form of their son, Ishaan.
Fantastic 😘
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ReplyDeleteThank you so much!! Means a lot.
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