The Smile

 

A small line of sweat was slowly trickling down his back while he was bending over a beautiful Linen Kurta by Mrs. Sharma who lives on the second floor in the next door building. The fan was whirring, the heat was picking up and the sounds of Mumbai enveloped him.                                                                                                       
The folding had to be neat or otherwise Mrs.Shama would scold. 

Not him, as he was bound to the ground floor, forever attached to his iron. She would scold his young daughter who would zoom around in the afternoon delivering the ironed clothes all over the neighborhood. 

His daughter Swati, who right now was busy writing another straight line of

 ‘ Meri maa bohot sundar hai,my Mother is very beautiful ‘ in her school folder.
Her face scrunched up in concentration,  tongue slightly sticking out through her lips. 

This line about her Maa was difficult for her as her mother had passed away a year ago. First everyone thought it had been Covid. The whole neighbourhood had been abuzz as the Ambulance came to pick her up one sunny morning…a morning just like today. He had just finished his cup of tea, music was playing in the background on his old radio he did not want to part with and he was just about ready to start the day when she turned to him and whispered: ‘ I don’t feel good .’ And before he could even react, she had collapsed. Later he got to know it was not Covid. It was an underlying condition the doctors told him. Told him so many things that later on he could not remember half of it. Remembered only the cold tiles under him, the white walls, the neon light blinding him at the hospital.The acid rising up in his throat from the tea that morning. Only that morning when everything had been alright.

Remembered only that he came home later that day. Home to a daughter who sat in a corner clutching her doll. Staring at him with her beautiful big eyes. Confused, hungry and asking for her Maa...                                                                                       
How to tell her that her Mother had gone.
How to explain the unexplainable.
In complete confusion they both sat together and wept that night.                                                                 
And now a year later, his hands keeping busy ironing the never ending flood of clothes from the buildings around him. Hands busy so his mind could wander. Wander to the time he had met her. Shanti had been her name. The name that was fitting her. Peace. Her smile was what caught his eye years ago in the little village he was passing through with his friends. It was lighting her up from the inside. A radiant smile and a smile she later had gifted to their daughter. He had been traveling from one village to another with friends and by afternoon they had stopped at the entry of their destination to refresh themselves with a cup of chai. He could not remember what made him turn. Was it a premonition? Was it karma? Had they bonded in a previous life to find each other again in this one? He just knew that he stood mesmerized holding his tea cup and staring at the girl who walked by. Little did he know, that evening only she would be smiling at him across the room of the family they had set out to visit. Years later he heard his wife telling their daughter Swati how they had met.
Swati loved the story.’ Papa was really staring at you ? And he did not say one word ? ’ she giggled. ‘Yes, he was. ‘
Shanti smiled, giving a glance in his direction. ‘ And he did not utter one word.’                                                                                                            
‘ Arey Basant, you got my clothes ready ? I need them now. ‘ 

Mr. Tiwari from next door building on the right brought him back to the here and now. Slightly disoriented from the memories he smiled : ‘ Yes, all are ready. Here you go. ‘ Tiwari counted out the coins one by one, then grumbling he took his parcel and moved on. That man was always in that kind of a mood. Wonder what may be haunting me? Also some memories of the past? But now  is no  time to dwell on things or mumbling customers as the mountain of clothes never ceases to exist.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
Basant believes we all live several lifes in one lifetime... some, where you move on and the door just shuts and some where you walk back and forth between then and now. He was here and living his life but somewhere he was also with his wife. Relishing in memories. Making them feel so real that he was getting very confused when something or someone was getting him back.                                                    

Right now the someone getting him back was his daughter who was giggling. On turning he saw her sitting cross legged with the phone in her hand trying to stifle the laughter bubbling up from inside. On seeing her Pa turning, Swati quickly hid the phone and tried very hard not to laugh. ' What ' ?  ' Nothing, Papa ' ' No phone when you are studying, Swati!' ' Yes, Papa ' ' What was so funny?' ' Nothing, Papa.'  He realised that it had been a long time since he had seen the slightly naughty side of his daughter. 

He will never forget how she used to overcharge customers. An irate Mrs. Sharma standing in his shop, fuming... ' Do you know your daughter is asking for more money?' 'Arey.... Mrs. Sharma that can not be!' ' Oh, yes... she was just at my door with my Kurtas and on asking how much ? she answered 25 Rupees...this is outrageous....
Looking over at his wife and his daughter, who was trying to hide behind Shanti, Basant was trying to understand the situation.Trying to save the situation and also trying hard not to laugh, he answered: ' But you know we take the money, na? She is just a child! Bachcha hai! '
'Bachcha hai, Bachcha hai... Where will this lead to...mumbling and still upset Mrs.Sharma left the shop... and on turning Basant saw Swati and Shanti sitting on the floor trying not to laugh ...tears rolling down their faces... and he did not know how to react but still remembered the warm feeling he got from seeing them like this... and just now that same warm feeling came back as he saw his daughter laughing and smiling again. After a year of heartache that he thought would not leave them for even in sleep. 

There it was ..

That smile...