Dwelling amidst the hustle bustle of Mumbai, my life suddenly feels like it is at a standstill. As I sit back on my resting chair and sip through my morning tea, all I can do is reflect upon my life of 68 years and miss you,even more, Vivek.
It’s funny how during day to day existence, we start feelinglike everything is forever. Guess, the only thing immortal in life is love, and I was among the lucky to be truly blessed withit.
I met Vivek at Presidency College. He was my senior,and I was lucky to have met him on my very first day itself. Coyly exchanging glances across the staircase slowly turned into conversations after a month and into different kind of friendship over the course of the year.
I belonged to a conservative Catholic family, while Vivek was a Hindu Brahmin. Besides belonging to the generation, where a marriage based out of love was frowned upon, ours was looked at in even worse light on account ofthe steep cultural differences we had. Our parents clearly stated their non-consent to the idea of our union. After several failed attempts at trying to convince our families, endless stream of tears, sleepless nights and even trying to overcome our love for each other, we gave up. Not on each other, but everyone else.
We decided to leave our homes and everyone behind to build our ownnest of unconditional love, trust and respect for each other. It was never easy and waytougher than what we could have imagined. We faced a lot of struggle, ups and downs anda long period of financialmisery. But at the end of the day, there was a differentsense of happiness in knowing that we were close to each other. While we struggled to make our ends meet, it’s the little things that came as a source of joy. How every Sunday, Vivek brought me my favourite roses on his way back home from the morning walk, as I waited for him, having cooked his favourite kheer.
Time flew by, and we made through some of our struggles while still fighting with the others. As we were blessed with our son,Rohan, life turned out to be more fulfilling. Our family starting accepting us more and Vivek also got a promotion. We moved to Mumbai. After Rohan’s birth, I saw a different side of Vivek. He worked so much harder, got conscious of every penny he spent and always wanted to save. He also gaveup smoking.
Together, we saw so many dreams for our son, and Vivek played his role as a wonderfuland inspiring father. He worked so hard at his job. He started even taking up part-time teaching and savedthe extra money diligently. He used to sit every month to analyse the savings and used to make long calculations for which I always made fun of him.
But I guess, his hard work and dedication did pay off, and we despite beingmiddle-class people, were able to send Rohan to US to carvehisbright future as a doctor. After Rohangot married to his girlfriend,notbefore long, we became grandparents to two beautiful girls. Our son did invite us to live with him post-Vivek’s retirement. However, we never felt at home in the distant land, nor did I get along much with his wife, which is why the thought of moving out never appealed.
I just wanted to live forever in my tiny flat in Bandra with my husband, walk by the seaside at Carter Road on evenings and wait for the flowers, he lovingly brought me even now, every Sunday morning.Little did I know, that last Sunday would be the day my husband would bring them for me for the last time.
It was this Monday morning that I found Vivek sleeping until 8 am. He was an early riser but complained of feeling sick on Sunday night post our dinner, which is why I didn’t disturb him for 3 hours past his wake-up time. When I went into our bedroom to wake him up, I was shocked to find him lying unconscious. The doctor soon came in and confirmed his death.
I was numbed in disbelief. I was shattered and didn’t know what I was to do. It was one truth that I couldn’t fathom. While I was battling with my emotions, and the fear of living alone, the practicalities of not having Vivek aroundalso felt brutal.
Once we parted away with Vivek’s body, completing the last rites, my son immediately returned back to Texas due to an unavoidable emergency. In addition to my emotional loss, I felt a tinge of fear about the finances. Having never taken money from even my father, asking my son somehow didn’t come to me. I decided to take it a day at a time and just wanted to embrace everything that reminded me of Vivek for now.
As I was casually browsing throughmy late husband’s belongings, just to feel closer to everything that had his touch, I stumbled upon his drawer. The same drawer he never allowed me to touch, for which I kept joking that it contained love letters from his childhood girlfriend. I now remember, the last time I teased, he told me, you’ll find out only after I’m no more.As I battled with the tears down my eyes, I opened the drawer to uncoverthe secrets it stored for years.I was left crying bitterly, seeing the unconditional and endless love and care Vivek had for me.
It contained insurance papers, right from the year our son was born. I was a nominee from the last 46 years without having even the slightest hint. This resolved the puzzle; his financial planning every month that I made fun of, this was a part of his monthly income scheme, wherein he invested in monthly income plan mutual funds, right from then to take careof us. These papers of investment in monthly income scheme were proof to the hefty amount my husband left back for me.
More than the money, they are proof ofthe fact that how much he loved me. I am unable to think anything at this point in time. All I can do is miss Vivek for the rest of my life and long for his fragrant presence, which the red flowers constant remind me of.
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