I climb those dozen stairs excitedly. Before I can ring the bell, I can hear footsteps approaching the wooden door, how does she manage this everytime? She opens the door and smiles her puckered smile, I cannot see the rest of the room as I am embracing her and I get the whiff of freshly washed and starched cotton from near her shoulder where my head lies.
I can hear him excitedly leave his wooden chair as he comes close to me, I leave her embrace and cuddle up to him, he guffaws and his smile goes up to his eyes. He pats my back twice or thrice, a little hard, like I were a strong boy, and says Aur meri Neha Rani?
I hear myself saying all is good. No worries if it wasn’t a while before, it all seems perfect right now. There is a gush of calm that runs through me and the house dimly lit by the sunshine from behind the curtain, only adds to it.
He holds my wrist and signals me to sit down. I take a seat on the deewan perpendicular to his wooden chair. I am answering his questions about my journey, my parents and my family back home when she brings a glass of water and Shikanji. I smile at her and ask her, what is there for lunch, I cannot resist the aroma! She looks at me, her eyebrows challenging me to take a guess. I never go wrong on this one. The delectable taste of food cooked by her is anyways unforgettable and so is its aroma. As I venture my confident guess, she laughs till her belly shakes. You have a doggie’s nose, she says to me. She pulls a chair and sits down; the food will be served on the time the lady of the house has so methodically set through a practice of decades. She never has to look at the clock, she just knows. And so we three sit, our brief exchange of words being over. He passes me the T.V remote. He knows I might not be interested in the religious discourse being aired. I quietly deny it. I am not a T.V person. Also, the program being watched fits in so well with this sacred house that you wouldn’t want to disrupt the uniformity.
Talking about Sacred, the phrase that Man maketh the House could never be explained so well. He is the most devout, pious and tolerant Man I have ever seen in my life. I have never seen him frown, let alone complain. He comes with his trademark soulful smile. You cannot picture him without it. He is not just knowledgeable, he is wise. A master in mathematics and IQ related matter, he is great at religious and literary discussions both. English is his third Language, Hindi and Urdu being the first two. He is too well updated with what’s new given his white haired mane. But his loose white Kurta Pajama might fool you. You see, he is a living example of Simple Living and High Thinking.
She on the other hand has mastered the art of home making. The house is so clean and organized that you could find a needle in the dark. The house is full of her patchwork and other stitch-work masterpieces. The dining table is always laid with the most finger-licking food of all times. And there is a time for everything.
These two never tire it seems. She banters while he saunters. She matches his serenity with her activity. He laughs while she playfully teases. They call each other Dear.
Everytime I look at them together I value commitment. Everytime I think of their togetherness, my heart is so full.
They are not two people to me; they are one. And now that one is gone, I try not to miss him; and I find him in her, every time I look in those eyes. God Bless.
