Shanti Aunty

This is my first story, which I had written when I was in the sixth standard. It was published in Tripura Times and our annual school magazine 'Satgamaya'. Publishing it now with a little bit of editing. Hope you guys like it. I know it's not good enough. It's the first one so please bear with me.  :)

We had gone for a tour in Kashmir through a travel agency with five other families during my summer vacation. It was the last day of our trip. In the evening we returned from our sightseeing and were too tired to do anything else. It had rained in the afternoon and thus colder than usual. We gathered around a fire in the fireplace in the hotel. The warmth of the fire soothed us. Shafkat, the waiter who had become friends with us in these days brought us some hot steamy tea, judging our mood even before we ordered. Seeing him approaching with tea, lit up everyone's face. Masala tea, a rain washed ambience, a moist cool breeze, a blazing fire, and a group of friends- what else do you need to spark a conversation?

Shubho bhaiya, the Bengali boy seemed to be in a bad mood. On asking what was it, he said in his bengalised hindi accent about a man who sat beside him in the ropeway chair. He closed his eyes tight and screamed the entire way, even though it was moving smoothly. At a point he grabbed Shobho's arm, not ready to leave it in any condition! 'I kept on pleading "Arey dada! O dada! What are you doing!" But he just wouldn't listen! I couldn't even enjoy the view. Dhat!'

'That's nothing I tell you. This world is filled with such irritants', said Jasjeet uncle with a big smile and a gleam in his eyes. 'While we were coming to Jammu in our 3-tier train, there was this man in the middle birth who wouldn't wake up in the morning and I, being on the lower birth couldn't sit up because of him. We tried calling him, but he kept sleeping with his mouth open and snoring all the time. I, being bored of lying like that, sat up curving my back and stooping to fit in somehow! That gave me a really bad back ache" said he, holding his waist where he had had the pain. The people around looked at him sympathetically.

And thus started the discussion about numerous disturbing people fondly called 'Namune' each of us had encountered.

'These people should move around with an Injurious to health warning struck on their forehead' said Mrs. Sehgal angrily. We laughed at her witty remark. Turn by turn, people started sharing their stories about their acquaintances who they claimed were the most irritating on the face of earth. It almost turned into a competition with each of them trying to prove that their Mr/Ms Annoying was the best...err...worst! Each of them started their story with "Yeh toh kuch bhi nahi mera wala sunn" (This is nothing. My one is worse.)

Finally it was my turn.

'Well guys, unlike your stories, mine is not a mere incidence but something that is an integral part of my daily life. Here it goes.'

I took a final sip of my second cup of masala tea and started.

'About two years ago, we shifted to a new locality. It was beautiful 2 BHK flat with spacious, well-furnished rooms, a piece of verandah and all the stuff that make a perfect house. Our anticipation knew no bounds as we settled there.

I went to my bedroom and opened the large east facing windows. There was a lush green neem tree outside. It had just started drizzling. I took a deep breath and the smell of the earth filled my nostrils. My heart rejoiced in the very thought of the soft sunlight that would flood into my room in the winter mornings that were to come!

After hours of hard work putting things in place, long tiresome arguments between Maa and Papa, while planning where to keep what, everything was set up. Phew! Turning a house into a home is not as simple and fun as they show it in Wake Up Sid I tell you! It was late in the evening already when Papa finally nailed the wooden wall hanging with 'Home Sweet Home' carved on it. By the end of it all, we all were totally exhausted. With high hopes to enjoy living in peace and comfort here, we called it a day.

To our utter dismay, the next morning was nothing like our expectation. When in the early hours of dawn, even before the crows cawed, I was fast asleep, relishing some sweet obscure dream. My dream got interrupted by a sudden loud scream of a lady, "Get up! Get up now or I'll thrash you hard!" I jumped out of the bed! I checked the clock. "Damn! It's 4:30 am! Who the hell is screeching at this hour?" The screaming continued "Get up or you'll be late for school." I understood that it was the neighbour trying to wake her child up. It must be a morning-shift school, I thought.

I peeped into my parent's room. Maa and Papa were still sleeping though a bit disturbed by the noise. They only shifted from one side to another, reaching the two extreme sides of the bed, mom pulled the blanket closer to her and Papa pulled it towards his side. Mom frowned, still in deep sleep and pulled it harder, uncovering poor Papa.

Fighting while sleeping too! Uh! These people! I thought. I scratched my head, yawned and went back to my bed.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. But the noise kept haunting me as I could hear the lady continuously shouting at her child. I couldn't sleep anymore. I lay there wide awake, disturbed and infuriated. The child too was screaming now and then: "Maa, it's too cold today I don't wanna bath", "Maa I can't eat these chapatis for tiffin", "Maa you've given me wrong socks. They are of different pairs!", "Maa where's my English book!" followed by necessary AND unnecessary comments from the lady. Her pressure cooker kept on whistling. And I was like "Come on now stop this or I'll come to your place and bang the pressure cooker right on your head!" At 6 am, I heard the lady saying "Hurry or you'll miss the bus!" Finally the girl was ready and left for her school-bus stop.

Since then, my mother never had to take the trouble of waking me up in the mornings and the alarm clock batteries got saved for a lifetime! Our big fat neighbour was enough for that! Morning shows the day- and thus you can guess what my day would be like!'

I glanced at my audience. They looked interested. In my mind, I patted my shoulder for starting off well!

'My parents woke up and we started our daily chores. On the other hand, our neighbour had already completed her morning duty. This was the time she must devote to herself. To our horror, the lady turned on her music player and started playing some loud aerobics music and started exercising, jumping and dancing! I could imagine her feet thumping the ground. Pity the floor! Maa had her bath and conducted her morning prayers with this loud aerobics music playing in the background, cursing this lady in between chanting of her shlokas. Meanwhile, Papa rested himself on the brand new relaxing chair smelling of fresh varnish, read the headlines in the newspaper and sipped his tea. Annoyed by the rock music, dad said, "Arrey who is this neighbor making so much noise since morning?" Within a few minutes the music stopped. Her workout was complete. We heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God it's over!" said Maa. Peace returned.

NOT FOR LONG.

Our doorbell rang. Maa went and opened the door. There she was, smiling in a bright purple suit, a nose stud glistening on her nose, a big red bindi and quiet contrastingly, a pair of sports shoes, "Namaste ji! You came yesterday. Right?", her lips broke into an even bigger smile. My Maa, half confused , half depressed, welcomed her in with a smile.

'I am Shanti, your neighbor. Now that we are neighbors, we must be friends. Ji aapas mein mel-milav accha rehta hai na", she explained. Maa and Papa nodded with a smile.

We introduced ourselves. Her daughter Riya Sharma was 7 years old. Narayan Sharma, her husband mostly stayed in Goa for his business, which she flaunted about. "And what do you do Chinu beta?" she asked looking at me. "Aunty ji I am studying in class VIII in Holy Cross School", I answered. "Very nice beta... So? What is your aim in life beta- IIT JEE or PMT?"

I stabbed her thrice in my head.

I wanted to tell her IIT JEE and PMT are mere entrance exams not to be someone's 'aim in life'. But I did not want to lengthen the discussion. I simply replied with a goofy smile, "Ji abhi I did not decide." All the elders exchanged polite, understanding looks.

Then she caught Maa staring at her sports shoes, a misfit with her clothes. She instantly decided that it needed an explanation. "Behen ji I have just joined an aerobics class. Doctor ne bola hai weight kam karne ke liye." (The Doctor has suggested me to lose weight). Then she continued ranting about how to lose weight, and low calorie recipes she had learnt from some magazine. Maa nodded understandingly. I wondered how she was patiently listening to all this. Papa tried to be indifferent and glanced at the newspaper. The chat continued. She just won't stop!

The clock came to our rescue. It was 8 am. Papa had to go to the office and I needed to get ready for school. Maa had to cook. Perceiving that everyone would become busy now and could not attend to her, she took her leave. Maa smiled sweetly, hiding her annoyance and bid her goodbye: "Aate rahiyega" (Keep visiting us). She said happily, "Zarur- Sure Sure! You too keep coming". We were exhausted by the hour-long torture!

And that was how it all started. From that day till now, we have not lived a moment of peace except for when she had once gone to her mother's house for ten days. She took mom's 'Aate rahiyega' too seriously and made our lives a hell on earth.

In the daytime, Shanti Aunty does her household work, dusting, cleaning, cooking and washing, making loud noises even while doing the simplest of tasks. I wonder how! Talent!

She receives calls the whole day, from her husband, relatives and of course credit card and telecom companies. Her ring tone being the good old 'Om Jai Jagdish Hare' in the highest possible volume.

'What is the use of this kind of devotion? Doesn't even allow it to play the first line completely! Isse accha toh naahi lagao aisa ringtone! How do you feel if the song starts with all its prelude, ringing of holy bells and cymbals, clapping of devotees and just as the singer starts 'Om Jai Jag-' with all her might, mid-sentence, she picks the call. How disturbing!', complains Mom.

'She yells on the phone: a long stretched "Haylow" followed by "Aur? Kaisa hai sab waha Rohtak mein? Waah ji wah! Aapki toh chaandi hai ji!"(How is everything there at Rohtak? Wow ! You're doing fantastic! ) She much talks louder than usual on the phone.

Why not? Baat Janakpuri se Rohtak jo bhejni hai bhai!' I paused. They took my joke well and laughed out loud. I took another cup of tea.

'In the afternoon her daughter returns from school, Aunty shouts over the unfinished tiffin, serves the lunch, she eats, runs around the house, and the sleeps. Shanti Aunty also takes a nap with her, snoring in a peculiar humorous way. For us the background sounds just never stop!

In the evening, she turns on her TV to watch Saas-Bahu serials in a row, one after the other, in one of which the bahu is actually a Naagin and the other and yet another serial which is celebrating its 300 episodes. If my Maa wants to watch the same serials at the same time, she can actually keep our TV on mute mode. Shanti Aunty's TV's sound would be enough!

She regularly invites herself to our place on tea, however odd may be the time. Her conversations are replete grave concern for my studies, gossips about what happened in Chaudhry ji's office and Mehra ji's daughter's wedding.And then she frequently sends her daughter Riya to borrow something or the other. I guess her house runs short of everything on earth: 'ting se leke tong, aur ding se leke dong' (yeah that online shopping ad maker copied it from me ;) ). But Maa and Papa are too polite to turn her out. It's a simple two-letter word NO. Is it that difficult to say?' I say addressing my parents, raising my eyebrows.

'Now what can we do? She is always so friendly with us that we can't turn her out.' explained Dad, sounding helpless.

'Shanti bhabi ne toh shanti hi cheen li' ( Shanti bhabi has snatched away our peace, contrary to her name.) said Mom with proper gesticulation.

'I literally dread the ringing of the doorbell now.' I continued. 'Even if she doesn't drop in, her voice, of the volume of Metallica concerts is enough to establish her omnipresence in her house throughout the day! Her aerobics music, TV sounds, cooking and washing noise, scolding and trashing her child and her subsequent wailing, has become a consistent phenomenon of our very existence.

'God please take her away. Spare us!' folding my hands in a prayerful position, looking upwards, I prayed to the heavens.

People seemed amused. And in my mind I knew I had won the undeclared contest that was going on, to show one’s condition the most pathetic, in the pangs of some irritating elements. I relished in the joy of my victory. Everyone was silenced. No one could say 'Arey yeh toh kuch bhi nahi' after this. For the first time, somewhere in my mind I felt proud of Shanti Aunty.

We returned the next day, saying goodbyes and promising to stay in contact, knowing in our mind that ones we get busy with our schedules, no one would actually consider calling each other without a reason. This friendship will get buried somewhere down the memory lane and never be revisited again.

We returned, sad about the fact that the good days were gone. Again we would be resuming our routine life with the continuous disturbance of Shanti Aunty! We reached home in the late evening, totally exhausted and slept without wasting a moment.

Surprisingly, things seemed different the next morning! I slept uninterrupted till 8 am. I could hear the birds chirp! The whistle of the distant morning train leaving the station could be heard. Normally Shanti Aunty's voice subdued all other sounds, so this was a rare incidence for us.  I could not believe my ears! Where was our noisy neighbor? We couldn't hear a word from there place! It was so calm, it seemed like a bonus day to our Kashmir trip. But oddly, we were not enjoying it as much as we should have. We had already fallen into the habit of the noise...we started doubting things instead of living the moment.... When for a long time there was no noise from there,  Maa decided to enquire into it. She went there and found that there was no one at home. When Maa came and informed us, Dad took it casually, "They must have gone somewhere for a Summer vacation."  "Considering how talkative she is, it seems unlikely that she would not tell us if she had any such plans!"  I remarked, suspiciously. "That's also true!" said Maa, looking a bit worried. Something smelt fishy now.

Maa went to another neighbour's house. Maa returned with this news. Little Riya had met with a major road accident the previous day and that she was admitted in AIIMS Hospital. We rushed to the hospital. I saw Shanti aunty sitting quietly in a corner. I had never seen this face of hers before. Sharma Uncle had arrived that day, as previously scheduled, to be with his daughter during her summer vacation. He too sat there looking around anxiously. The people around kept asking questions- "How did it happen? When? Where?" The pity and concern and the same repetitive questions from different mouths of the other people in the waiting room only added to the pain of the couple. We decided to leave them alone and not ask the questions everyone else asked. Maa just held the cold hand of Aunty tight and tried to console her. Dad silently sat beside uncle.

The medicinal smell of the hospital waiting room, the people praying for their loved ones admitted in the hospital, the thought of poor Riya  battling for her life and people pitying each other's condition and those same questions being asked to different people by different people, created a trance like state in me. My brain ceased working. The people gathered and discussed what had happened, how they had been careless, how it could have been prevented if only....etcetera. But how did that matter now?.  Severe head injuries.... Excessive blood loss...Very less chance of survival....Few words came drifting to my ears. . That's all I could comprehend from all that I heard the people saying about the little girl. I stood like an idiot in the crowd, too lost to understand or reason anything, almost numb.

On the third day of her battle, Riya finally succumbed to her injuries.

The pretty golden dress and the pair of lacy shoes from Goa, that lay in Sharma uncle's suit-case, lost their meaning. No one to adore them and flaunt them at a friend's birthday party. No one to sit on his lap wearing these new gifts, hugging him and kissing his forehead and declaring, "My daddy is the best daddy!"

Shanti Aunty had not spoken a word since the accident occurred in front of her eyes. Our noisy neighbour was silenced forever. Her once lively eyes, fixed at a distant point, unfocussed. They did not shed a tear. Looking somewhere into the eternity where her daughter would be with her. Clinging to a false hope she chose to breathe day in and day out. Her days- a land of delusions and nights bathed in sweet dreams. Holding hands they would walk together to the school bus-stand. Again. This time she would not fight for the TV remote and let her sleep in the morning as long as she wanted. She promised a thousand times.

People in the neighbourhood suggested Sharma uncle to change their house and take her somewhere to the hills or the seas for a break. That would help her recover and not remind her of Riya. I wonder if it would really work. Memories that are etched in our heart don't get washed away by the incessant waves of the seas neither can the dampness of the soul be eradicated by the sunlight of the hills.

That single accident changed our daily routine completely. The irony: it happened the same day, when I, far away from home was feeling proud of her, proud of being able to prove her to be the most annoying neighbour in the world and prayed folding my hands to make her go somewhere. Gone was her soul. Left with a mere bodily existence which had nothing to make fun about in a far off tourist spot, sitting around a fire, sipping a hot tea. Perhaps this is what I wanted, what I had always prayed for. Peace.

One and a half years have passed since the accident occurred but still, in the morning when I get up late, I find something missing. I find it difficult to call out for my Maa when she is in the kitchen. I am scared that she'll hear and that would remind her that there was no one to call her 'Maa' anymore. As if everything has become so painfully silent and stagnant. Life has come to a standstill, a life sans livelihood is all that lingers in my room now. I wish the doorbell would ring again and she would be standing behind with a bowl to be filled with sugar. This unbearable quietness is driving me crazy.