Settling for Timeless Happiness | Nishi Kala

As I stood gazing through the glass door sipping my coffee I saw my fellow workers bustling throughout the office. Observing them juggling between unfinished tasks, callously difficult files and loggerheaded bosses during presentations was somehow entertaining to me. The troubling thought that my spectatorship would continue only till my coffee lasted, drowsed me. Shuddering myself back to senses, I hurriedly gulped in my remaining coffee. Steadily pacing towards my seat, I mutated smiled to co-workers who came across my way. Work absorbed me for a long time. Late at night, exhausted, I headed back towards my home. My maid welcomed me inside. I spoke to my parents, residing in another city, over the phone and mechanically promised them that I would seriously consider meeting boys they had shortlisted for my marriage. Later at night I struggled through my dinner with my eyes locked to my laptop’s screen displaying the slides I had prepared for a presentation in office.
As I retired to my bed a spate of thoughts enveloped me. After acquiring my dream job, a house of my own, a car, financial stability, and most importantly independence, why did a void lurk into my soul? The inability of my accomplishments to pacify me petrified me. My parents claimed that the only way I could end my anguish was by getting married, my friends emphasized that I should cut down on my exhausting official work and I dangled causeless between both the advices.
This was my life. Every figment of me had unwillingly adjusted to my stationary existence, with time. My life was a conflict, a heinous blizzard and a silent murky ocean. My playful childhood never let me conceive the presentiments of the tedious image of my following life. When I looked back, that mundane and nascent little girl from my childhood seemed to have been severely mutilated. The baffling thought that my uncomprehending senses, yearning for that immature joy could never be pacified, gave me goose bumps.
I was believed that the only way to experience happiness was realization, acknowledgement and recollection. The realization of the infinite joy I derived in my childhood made me happy. The acknowledgement that my parents gave me love that knew no limits made me joyous. The recollection of my precious childhood memories lightened up my soul. Perhaps I had to settle for the fact, that the present stems of my happiness were rooted down to my quixotic childhood. With these thoughts sleep encompassed me. One more day had come to an end.
Agitated by the sunlight coming through the dilated curtains I woke up. This was how I woke up every day. I resented being woken up by alarms or people yelling on my head. After dwelling on my bed for some time I slowly rubbed my eyes self-pitying for having to get out of bed. On getting up I noticed a small supple limbed girl smiling at me. She was my maid’s daughter, Nadiya.
I questioned, “What are you doing here? Where is your mother?”
“Mother is having fever. She is in her room. Shall I prepare you some tea?”
How much I would have loved to have that hot brimming cup of tea, but my pricking conscience took a contradictory stance. I refused and went for a bath. After getting ready I checked on my maid. She asked me if I could drop her daughter off to school and explained that it was difficult to look after the child with the fragile physical condition she was in. Unwillingly, I propelled my consent to the cadaverous lady in front of me. My mother had sent her to work for me. She was a widow and lived with her daughter. I didn’t talk much to her girl. My work consumed most of my time. Also my maid took extra precautions to make sure her daughter didn’t annoy me or obstructed my regimes in any way. My late office hours further fostered our distance.
Quietly we came out of the house and walked towards the lift. Awkward silence lurked all the way to the parking while she hopped through her way, completely immersed in her simplified and dilute world. On my unlocking the car she immediately opened the door and jumped inside. Her comfort intimidated me for some reason. I was in a situation I had not anticipated. I didn’t know what to say to this girl and so I formulated a comforting thought as this complexity harbored. I deciphered that I was not obliged to make conversations with her and with instant acceptance to this argument I turned on the radio. The girl was completely delighted by this.
“You know didi, I love this song.”
I smiled at her. I was not sure of how else I could react. And when I finally settled on something appropriate, it was too late for a reaction, and so the silence prevailed. Soon I was going to discover that this inability to utter out words was not mutual.
“Didi, I like going to school.”
I smiled and she without even noticing continued.
“I have friends over there.”
I again smiled.
“I play with them.”
“What do you play?”
God had finally taken back his spell of mutation from me.
But without paying any heed to my newly established accomplishment, she continued.
“I play so many games and I always come first.”
She stared back at me brimming with confidence.
I smiled back.
The spell was re-casted.
“When I grow up I will become you.”
What I felt was pure ecstasy. I marveled at that feeling for a time period more than anyone else my age would have. My unperturbed delight melted my discomfort.
Quizzical I enquired, “Why so?”
“Because mother says so.”
I struggled hard to impede my receding joy.
“So you want to be like me, because of your mother’s insistence?”
“Yes. And you also wear new clothes everyday and have a car of your own. I will also wear new clothes when I grow up.”
I just looked at her trying to comprehend her words. An irony faced me. She wanted to have new clothes like me and I wanted the joy of winning little games like her.
After dropping her to school I proceeded towards my office.
As I worked my thoughts frequently strayed to Nadiya. That kid surely equipped an art to charm people; why else would I derail my mechanical life and take a half day to pick her up after school.
Cluelessness encompassed me as I drove. What could I ascribe to my flourishing liking towards a little girl, to whom I was not related in anyway? No explanation that I drafted proved to be adequate as an answer. Doubtlessly the girl was genial and pleasant, but most of the children are like that. I was deeply perplexed by the objections and excitement blending in me. I had not felt this childlike rush for like eternity.
On reaching her school I saw a spate of kids, wearing the same uniform and looking alike, rushing out like a strong current of water. I stared hard at them shifting my focus from one kid to another.
How on earth was I ever going to find her? She wasn’t even aware that I was there.
A shadow of sorrow passed across my eyes as I leaned back on my car quietly.
And then I heard the sweetest voice that blew into me happiness of magnitude I couldn’t even decipher.
“Didi, you came to pick me up!”
Without pausing she went on, “I was about to go back with my friend.”
I smiled at her. The answer to my doubts appeared in front of me in all its vividness. I was not looking at Nadiya. I was looking at the little nascent and mundane girl from my childhood. A new world of joy crystallized in front of me. My fallacy had ended and I had figured out that happiness was not just about realization, acknowledgement and recollection of my childhood. It was about reliving it. It was about embracing my present and being eager for the future.
Nadiya interrupted my life comprehending session.
“Didi, you are my friend now. We will come to school together every day. I will also play with you. But I come first most of the times. Even you can come first sometimes.”
She continued with little pauses.
And without my noticing her innocence embedded into me, squeezing out all the worries and anticipations.
I had just settled for timeless happiness.

Indian Literature | Author | Nishi Kala. Read more works by Nishi Kala and other amazing authors from around the world on Indian Review.