It was fascinating to walk in the moonlight. Nisha was enchanted by the
ethereal beauty of the hills and the garden. The roses were in full bloom;
their color exotic even in the silvery light; their shapes perfect; and
their heady perfume intoxicating. The roses were Asha’s passion.
Suddenly it became dark and very cloudy and Nisha turned to the house. But
the house seemed deserted. Nisha called her sister, “Asha” but there was no
answer, except her voice echoing in the big house, Asha, Asha, Asha.... The
silence was menacing. Nisha heard her own heart beat and footsteps as she
began to look from one room to another.
She was frightened of the once well-loved house.
Outside the rain started slashing and pouring heavily. Somewhere a window
was slamming. Nisha dashed there. It was Asha’s bedroom. Asha was lying on
the bed. She had a mutinous look. Her lips were parted attempting at a smile
but was ghastly; for she was dead and stark. Her big dark eyes were open and
looked bigger. It was sinister to see her sister’s exulted, dead eyes. Nisha
tried to close them, but they would not close.
Suddenly she saw the two men standing on the doorstep. They looked at her
accusingly, “You killed her.” Their voices echoed in the big house, “killed
her, killed her….” “No, no, she was my life.” Said Nisha in a small
quivering voice, but could not move her body as it had become lead. They
were coming near her. Their bodies seemed to emanate a deathly cold and she
was terrified.
She tried to run through them but tripped over and fell face down. She felt
their cold breaths and fingers on her throat.
“No….”
“Nisha…Nisha…” someone was gently shaking her. Nisha gradually opened her
eyes. The housekeeper’s kind face smiled at her. She said in a kind voice,
“You had a nightmare. Would you like me to stay here for the rest of the
night?” Nisha declined. A few minutes later she was alone again. She looked
at the sprawling garden through the wide windows. The sky was tinged with
little red specks. Nisha knew she could not sleep anymore. Slowly and
painfully she got into her wheelchair and turned to her desk. Nisha took her
sister’s diary and read.
On the opening page she read the inscription: To my beloved Asha, for those
precious moments and for remembrance; with love Ravi.
The diary was three-fourth filled with Asha’s neat handwriting, documenting
her short spells of happiness. Nisha had been reading excerpts from the
diary since the past two months.
Saturday, 1st January
Dear Diary,
“Where have you been all these years?” Ravi asks me. I can ask the same of
him. Today he gave me this beautiful companion and all I can think of is
Ravi. I am brimming with love and happiness.
Monday, 10th January
Dear Diary,
It is raining and I am so happy.
Love is a drug; love is potent.
Love is heady; love is true.
Love is lovely as a dream come true.
She gives me such severe looks;
As if to state that love is all thorns, not roses,
But I say that love is roses with thorns.
Sunday, 6th February
Dear Diary,
I feel like a teenager and not the twenty-three year old woman. Oh, Nisha if
only you could find someone like Ravi. He said, “You are intoxicating like
the roses.” I say that you have made me drunk and intoxicated with love.
Thursday, 25th August
Dear Diary,
Nisha is making me nervous and guilty. I am being so selfish in feeling
happiness when she is so desolate and unhappy. But I am not leaving her
forever. We would be neighbors, almost.
It’s my turn to look after her and Ravi will help me. I think that the
doctor friend of Ravi’s will be suitable for her.
Friday, 28th October
Dear Diary,
It is the end for me. I will never be a bride again, nor will I love again.
I still can not believe that Ravi is dead. Why did I let them go without me?
Why did I not die instead?
Nisha closed the diary with a little jerk and looked outside for a while.
The birds were getting busy and the sky was liquid gold. But Nisha did not
see anything.
She remembered the accident so well. She had been visiting Asha in her new
house. Ravi was driving Nisha to her house. She had insisted Asha to stay
back and she had stayed back. It was a rainy afternoon and the hills were
slippery. “Yes, I remember it so well. Ravi lost his life and I paid with my
legs.”
She opened the diary again and read the neat handwriting.
Saturday, 4th April
Dear Diary,
It has been more than nine years since I felt so fresh and happy. I cannot
believe that I am writing in my favorite diary again.
Today, I met him again. I feel so tranquil and sentient in his company. I
like his eyes. Even hours after he left I can see his lovely eyes. I never
thought it possible; but I think I am falling in love again.
Wednesday, 29th April
Dear Diary,
Is it not strange, that I can look at these hills again, without pain and
guilt. The hills are so beautiful. In his company, today it seemed more so.
He had no more classes and we met at the café. I never realize the time when
I am with him. We were together for four hours!
Nisha was so angry and sad because I was late. And I should be sad too, for
I lied to Nisha. But I am not.
I am being selfish and hate myself for saying that sometimes she stifles me
with her love and concern. Sometimes I feel like defying her and shaking her
confidence of owning me.
But she does own me with her selfless love.
Friday, 15th May
Dear Diary,
Today he called to say that he wants to meet Nisha and Uncle Sen. I have not
decided yet when I will invite him. I have to tell her about us.
Uncle Sen will like him but will Nisha?
I guess he is right; I am a little afraid to tell Nisha about him. But she
has to know.
Sunday, 31st May
Dear Diary,
How could she say that to me? Is she not happy to see me happier? She
disapproves of my falling in love. Have I not punished myself enough for
being alive, but I am alive. I feel like shouting “I am Alive.”
Sunday, 7th June
Dear Diary,
Today he came. Uncle Sen liked him and appreciates my choice. I hope so does
Nisha. But she was so quiet. I hope she will come to terms with him, just as
she had loved dear Ravi.
I love her so much and I hate to do anything that upsets or hurts her.
And I love him so much. I hope Nisha will understand and accept.
Nisha’s eyes were brimming. She closed the diary with a thud and looked at
Asha’s photo. She was beautiful and charming. Her small oval face framed
with curly hairs and big dark eyes was irresistible to everyone. She had a
lovely smile. Slowly Nisha kissed the photo and held it very close to her
heart. “Oh! Why did you have to fall in love?” hissed Nisha.
Mr. Sen was in his early seventies. He was Nisha’s father’s friend. He had
been like their guardian since their parents’ death; at the time Nisha was
fifteen and Asha was three years old. He often came to see them.
“They tell me that you are not sleeping well, again.”
“No, nothing is wrong with me. I am quite well.”
“You should visit some place. Here it is too lonely and you are always
reminded of…the past.”
“No Uncle, I do not need all these (she waved to include the garden, hills,
and the house) to remind me of the past or Asha. Even if I go to the sea,
she will be with me.”
“Maybe you have a point. Running away will not solve anything. They say that
time is the best healer and it is not yet three months, since…”
“There is nothing to be solved. She did not think of anyone else, other than
herself. I cannot forgive her; but I must.”
Mr. Sen and Nisha were sitting under the umbrella out in the garden. It was
a lovely morning. The house was quite old and Nisha’s family had owned it
for generations. She was rooted to the old house, its garden and the hills.
It was a lonely house and she had always lived there.
He looked at Nisha with concern. Her pale face looked paler. In the morning
light, her head appeared more grey than black. Her small sharp eyes looked
tired. She was looking older than her forty-six years. She had never been a
beauty like her sister, but she had always looked healthy.
Nisha saw Uncle Sen scrutinizing her. She was feeling a little angry. She
wanted to be alone. But looking at his kind, concerned eyes she controlled
herself. She must be patient. “Patience, patience…” she was repeating in her
mind over and over.
Nisha had a queer feeling of being followed. She knew that she was alone.
She turned back, but the corridor was empty. It was just the wind, making
the blinds rustle. She stopped in her track. The sound was very low, but she
heard it distinctly. Yes, someone was walking towards her.
Asha came out of the bedroom. She was like a sleepwalker. “Asha, Asha…”
Nisha called, but she did not stop or wake. She was walking out to the
garden. “Asha, where are you going? Asha wake up.” Nisha was calling and
walking behind her. “Asha…you will hurt yourself.” Asha almost floated to
her bed of roses and stooped over the blossoming roses.
“Asha, why don’t you look at me? Asha… can you hear?
Slowly Asha turned towards her.
The face was so horrible with the dead staring eyes; her look vacant,
meaningless. “No… no….”Nisha screamed.
Nisha woke up with a start. Her clothes were almost wet from sweating. She
switched on the light. On her bed side table Asha’s smiling photo was faced
towards her. The smile was full of love and life. Nisha picked the photo and
cried. She said painfully through her tears, “Why do you come to me with
your dead face? Why do you torture me so? Have I not loved you and taken
care of you? Do I not love you still?”
There was no answer; and there was no sleep or reassuring dream either for
Nisha.
A few weeks later Nisha in her wheelchair was taking a stroll in the garden.
It was full of roses in blossom. A tiny half-bud half-bloom rose attracted
her. She tried to cut it with her fingers as she had no scissors with her.
But the moment she touched the stem it pricked her. Instinctively she jerked
her hand back and saw a tiny drop of blood on her finger. And Nisha had to
wrench it.
At the house an envelope was waiting for her. It had come by the post from
her lawyer with a brief statement that Asha had left the sealed envelope
with him asking him to post it in spring.
Inside the envelope there was a beautiful dead red rose with the letter.
My dearest sister,
This faded rose was once alive and beautiful. This is one of the many roses
that bloom in our garden. This dead rose is for you, for remembrance. I know
how much you enjoy the garden and we spent many happy hours in it.
You have always been very good to me. You were more of a mother than a
sister. You have pampered me and cherished me. I was your darling. And I
have loved you like a child loving its mother; with my soul and complete
trust. Trust, do you know the meaning of the word- trust?
Why did you do it, Nisha? Yes I know about his accident, which was no
accident, was it? I saw you putting the tablets in the coffee. And it was
his cup. The last coffee he drank before he bid me goodnight, which was
meant to be goodbye. I remember it so well. You told him to be careful of
the road; it was drizzling.
Then I had not understood; I was dazed and confused. I could think nothing
but that he too was dead; and my last chance at happiness gone forever. I
kept thinking myself as some bad omen; unlucky for my loved ones.
It was another shock to me when they found it in the autopsy. I was
perplexed that why such a practical, intelligent person would take sleeping
pills before driving down the hill on a wet, slippery night. I could not
believe it. It was impossible and very unlike him, and I knew him.
Then it all became clear to me. And I hated you. Hated you not only for what
you did, but also for what you made me do to him, in death. I was disloyal
to him when I lied in court. But; how could I betray my own blood; my own
beloved sister. He was dead and I realized that telling the truth would not
bring him back. I did my duty to you.
Before I end I must confess that this episode reminds me of another. Was
that an accident too, or just meant to be an accident?
I am taking these pills, which will give me eternal sleep and perhaps
exonerate me for my sins. And may you live long to remember.
Yours forever
Asha