Happiness

          Yes, I was missing someone.  I wanted to deny myself of what I was going through – in fact, I had camouflaged myself for a good fifty-two days!  This was the count after I realized that I was actually missing someone.  How many years went by since I actually lost this person?  I have no clue.  May be fifteen years, or, twenty.  Or may be more.  Anyway, now that I realized that this someone has left me (in the lurch!), I decided to place an advertisement in the seemingly vain hope of winning him back.

          I prepared the draft of the advertisement, and revised it twelve times, or may be thirteen.  Let me count the number of crumpled papers in my bin….. one…..two…..three…..four……  Why am I wasting time on trivia?  I looked at it with satisfaction and made up my mind to personally hand it over in the office of the ‘City News’ tomorrow, for publication in the edition on the day after.

* * * * *

          I opened the newspaper in anticipation of seeing my advertisement.  So, my eyes directly glanced at the classified section; it was a strain for them not to do something they were used to doing for the past thirty – odd years (I was initiated into reading the newspaper at the age of eight) – headlines, editorial, sports page, centre page features, in that order.  Yet they did the job for me – they located the advertisement.  I went through it with a lot of satisfaction.  I was happy that the newspaper office had done a decent job of it.  Yes, there is hope.  How do I expect him to return to me without me letting him know that I am eager to let him in again?

          There is a strong gust of wind and the power goes off.  ‘Does it have to happen now?’   I grumble.  I recollect that I have taken enough care to ensure water for the next two days.  I looked at the mobile – low charge.  Psst!  What if he calls now?  He’ll think about me as a pretender!  How did I not factor in all this?  May be our relationship was not to be!  Que sara sara, whatever will be, will be.  The landline buzzed; I was abuzz with anticipation.  Oh, I can’t note the caller’s number as the power conched off.  Despite underground cabling, the power goes of at the drop of a hat!  Now, let me not answer the phone nastily.  I gathered my wits and answered the phone in as polite a tone I could manage.

         

          ‘Hello’, I said.  ‘What’s all this nonsense?’ asked an angry voice.  It was my mother’s!  I looked at the headline.  ‘Cyclone set to hit Vizag today’, it said.  Now I know why the power went off.  ‘Amma, don’t worry, I’m not a kid, and can take care of myself’, I tried to convince her.  ‘Don’t try to distract me’, shouted my mother, ‘I’m talking about the advertisement’.  ‘Advertisement?  How in Chennai could you see the advertisement of the local edition of Vizag?’  I asked, partly confused and partly upset – after all, this was not the voice I wanted to hear, in first place.  ‘Vasundhara aunty told me about that.  I am annoyed.  I am away from home for just three days and you give this obsessive advertisement.  You embarrass me so much!’  For the uninitiated, Vasundhara was a third generation cousin of my mother’s, and, true to her name, took great interest in worldly matters, especially if they were the rest of the world’s.  No wonder that the news became viral already!  My mother gave up because of my long-silence, and said, ‘Keep yourself safe during the cyclone.  Secure the door and windows.  Don’t open the door no matter whoever knocks and take care’.  ‘Amma, I’m thirty nine now.  I think I need not be spoon-fed about what to do, when and how.  And, I take full responsibility for the advertisement’.  ‘You –’.  The strong sound of a rough replacement of the hook was heard.  Yes, Amma is annoyed with me.  But what’s wrong with the advertisement?

          I looked at the advertisement.  It was a search for a missing person.  What could be wrong with such an advertisement?  And to call it obsessive!  Amma needs to change her reactive companions. 

          Knock-knock or a tap-tap on the door!  I was excited.  He would have seen my ad, and come looking for me!  Oh great!  May be it is the maid!  Why will she turn up?  This is her chance to invoke the force majeure clause for non-performance of the contract.  Anyway, I’d only be too glad to be proved wrong.  I opened the door only to find a kitten rubbing his tail against the door.  I saw that the feline was anyway secure, so left him to himself and came back to my missing person.

          Once again there was a sound at the door.  This time, I remembered Amma’s words ‘….. no matter who knocks’.  But, I decided to violate it once again.  So, I walked up to the door and opened it, and realized that it was caused by some flying dry – twigs.  I suddenly remembered the lyrics of a Telugu song:

          ‘Vadigalisadiki tadabadaku

Padadhwanulani porabadaku….

Ranika nee kosam sakhi…..’

          (Don’t shudder at the sound of gusts and mistake them to be my footsteps…..  I will never ever return to you,  O beloved…..)

          My eyes were filled with tears.  Why did I let him go in first place?  And why did I advertise in a newspaper and not search for his profile on Facebook?  I explored the latter option in vain.  But, I knew that we were together in Vizag and that he was too fond of me to have left the place.  So, I was perfectly fine in doing what I did.

         

          Now, the cyclonic effect started to show – stronger winds, heavier downpour, and more frequent and louder thunder.  At this point of time, I would not have wanted to see him at my door.  Why should he take such a big risk to come and meet me amid a cyclonic storm?  I made coffee for myself, and started to sip, lost in thoughts.  There was a very gentle tap.  I opened the door and drew a blank again.  When I walked back, I heard a tap again.  I did not want to go all the way back, so I sat at the dining table, sipping coffee.  This time I felt someone was pounding at my heart, and a gentle voice said, ‘Padma, I’m here!  Why don’t you talk to me?’

          I shuddered.  Yes, it was his voice.  I opened the door, but none was around.  ‘Hi  dear!  I miss you.  I’m glad you answered my advertisement.  But, why don’t I find you?’

          ‘It is alright even if I don’t show myself to you.  Trust me, I’m no ghost or an illusion.  I am here for real.  Let’s talk for a while and you’ll agree I’m here’, said he.

          I was happy.  Now I asked him, ‘Where were you all these years, nay decades?’

          ‘Let me answer this by asking you a question.  When were we last together?’

          I replied, ‘In school.  That was the time we chased the butterflies over the chrysanthemums in our garden!’

          ‘Who was with you when you ran after a bus and got into it before it departed?’

          ‘Yes, you were there.  I remember well.  It was the Independence Day and we had a function very early in the day in our college.  I almost missed the bus but found you in it.  Thank you for having been with me.’

          ‘Wasn’t I there with you, when you won your first inter-collegiate debate prize?  And when you went out of town for a quiz competition?  Wasn’t I part of you when your dad brought home a loaf of bread from a far off baker just because you wanted to have it on a Sunday evening, when Vizag was a sleepy little town?  Didn’t I share your success in your graduation, post-graduation and career?  Did I not accompany you when you stared at the sea?’

          I was lost in the conversation.  Yes, he is right.  ‘Where did we lose each other?’ I asked, perplexed.

          ‘After you got into a job, you concentrated on it with singular focus.  You neglected me.  You thought big things would give you big- time happiness. You were wrong, and deaf to my entreaties. Here I was, within and around you, craving for your attention, in vain.  Initially, you did find me off and on, but gradually, as you got entangled in the complications of your job, you only worked to untangle them, but never looked for or looked at me.  Here I was, waiting for you to call upon me, in vain.  In due course, you moved totally away, out of sight and sound.’

          I replayed what he said.  He was right.  As I got higher in the career, I really got too busy to spend time with him.  I  looked at the ad again.  It said:

‘Most Wanted’

          Looking for Happiness, my childhood play-mate.  Last seen with me twenty-five years ago, chasing butterflies in my garden.  Missing you a lot, dear!  If you see this advertisement, please contact me at the following address / telephone No……..’

          It looked childish that I should have placed this ad.  But it helped me find my happiness, who was lying within me, and without my care and attention, for nearly two decades!  How happy I felt when I collected a thousand shells on the seashore?  How much elated I was when Dad went a great distance simply because his ‘princess’ wanted to have bread at n odd time in the day!  Wasn’t happiness my companion when I helped a blind person cross the road?  Or, helped an academically poor student with another round of teaching just before the examination?  Where are all these happy moments now?

          They would have had an opportunity to give me my happiness, but I didn’t care to take it.  I was busy converting luxuries into ‘entitlements’ or ‘necessaries’, and strategizing game plans in trying to checkmate others.  I began to look at life as a zero-sum game, thought win-lose, and got no happiness out of those victories.  If at all, they only stressed me, as I knew that success would bring me more problems and enemies.  I therefore had to prepare myself for newer challenges, overcome them, get ready for fresh challenges, and so on like in a vicious circle.  No wonder that I distanced myself from my happiness, who was lying within me, and sobbing silently at my neglect of him.

          Now I realized the value of happiness.  ‘Thank you for making me realize your worth’, I screamed in joy.

* * * * *

          ‘You are such an overgrown child.  You still wake me up with your screams’, said mother, shaking me into consciousness.  I felt groggy; I rubbed my eyes, and said, ‘The newspaper ad helped me.  So you should not shout at my screams’.  ‘What advertisement are you talking about?’ asked Amma, and continued, ‘This girl clearly has had a disturbing dream’, and went off to sleep.

* * * * *