Its drizzling again. I am sitting in my room thinking of something to do. I stare out of my window at the dull sky which clearly expresses its mood. The wind is cool and sometimes brings a refreshing spray into the room. Its almost evening but the sun is on a sick leave making the atmosphere feverish.
I look out of my window. There she is. Sitting in her balcony. All by herself. Thinking about him. Thinking about all the time she spent with him. Wondering what she is doing here, alone, without him alongside her as he had always been. Her eyes are fixed at the stream of water flowing on the road, suggesting she is deep in thought. She hadn't planned for this. She'd never imagined it to end like this.
I call her AJI (marathi for nani). Its a month since AJOBA (grandfather/nana) passed away. They have been our neighbors for as long as I know. They were the kind of couple which made you think of the phrase "Made for Each Other". There was no AJI without AJOBA and vice versa.
They'd had a normal arranged marriage. He had been a civil servant and she a housewife and they had lived a pretty normal life. But the love they had for each other was visible from each and every thing they did. Mind you it wasn't like the fake care that couples show in front of others. We were amazed at how compatible they were.
They would share the chores of the house as no one else lived with them. Their daughters visited often tho. The only event of us meeting, was when my mother would ask me to give them something she had cooked for them.
Summing it up, they lived in a world of their own. Fulfilled and contended, enjoying the process of growing old together.
One day it changed. The culprit was cancer. AJOBA got his test results and the doc told him it was some abdominal cancer. All the ppl in the neighborhood were in shock. It was a very sad thing to happen. Especially to AJOBA.
But he was least bothered about it. He continued living his life as he had lived before. The only difference was that now a lot more ppl came to visit. Showly his health started failing. His body was wasting. We could only watch helplessly. My mom would cook for him twice a week. He enjoyed having something different to taste everyday.
One evening he passed away in his sleep. No one slept that night. Everyone kept staring at AJI, thinking about her, thinking about what must be going in her mind. She was too old to take decisions now.
Her daughters asked her to stay with them, but she refused. She too wants to fade away in the same house in which AJOBA did.
There are times when we talk about them. AJI has Asthama. AJOBA would take care of her when she struggled to breath during the monsoons. He would even do the washing, cleaning and cooking. She is hard of hearing but she would understand every word AJOBA blurted. I wonder what will happen next.
I find myself staring at the stream on the road just like her. We are thinking about the same thing. Only difference is that she had a lot more memories. They are the only things she lives by.