He scorned as he climbed the narrow flight of stairs. On the walls that were almost closing onto him, someone had scrawled in a childish handwriting “Dream House”. He noticed it only once and suppressed the desire to laugh out loud. The man, leading him, stopped and turned around, looking at him inquisitively as if to know the reason of laughter. He shook his head and asked him to continue leading the way. “Dream House! Why not? In such a dingy place, up this narrow staircase! Of course…would be a dream worth nothing”, he thought to himself. Even before he had seen the place, he had made his mind up. He would not be renting this place. He could not stay in such a place. It was almost cramped.
The real estate’s agent’s representative stopped awkwardly as if he was about to show the world’s most beautiful place to him. He turned around and said, “This way Sir!”. “As if there is any other way”, he thought in his head as he followed the representative, walking along a cramped corridor. The apartment was at the end of the corridor. The representative unlocked the door and let him in. The moment he stepped in, he felt a little change in the air. He almost thought he smelled a long lost perfume. For a moment he stood at the entrance, staring into the darkness while the representative felt along the wall, found the switch board and then flicked the lights on. He squinted and thought for a while. There was a slight charm to the place. No, it wouldn’t do. No, it certainly would not.
*
“And there, darling, we can place the dressing table so that there is sun in the morning while you get ready for work. Would you like that?” she asked, leaning on his arms as she examined the room. He nodded his assent, squeezing her arms. Then she leaned away from him, as if dragging him by her weight on his arms. “And there”, she said excitedly, “there we will have a large painting decorating the wall”. He leaned closer and whispered something in her ears. Her eyes lit up as she looked at him and beamed. “Yes! When we shall go to M----- we will buy the painting from there. Oh, what a genius you are! Very well thought”.
They moved around the two room apartment that they were considering buying. The real estate agent walked behind them, smiling inwardly. “Almost a sure buy. I will just have to wait for them to say a yes, get the money, and then can go back home, grab a beer and watch television”, he thought to himself.
“And our child…he can have this room. I am sure he would love to see the morning sun from this window”, she said. Then she leaned very close to him and whispered confidentially in his ears, “do you want a boy or a girl, darling?” He frowned a little. Certainly not the best place for the question but then relaxed. He knew how much it meant to her that they were buying a place for themselves. She was absolutely in love with this place. “I would love to have a darling little daughter as beautiful and pretty as you” he whispered back, watching in amazement as a hint of rose colour developed on her cheek and her eyes lit up. They signed the papers and paid the money the same day.
*
As he was climbing down, he felt drawn to the scrawl on the wall. He let his fingers caress it for a moment and felt as if someone was singing. Then it was gone. He stepped out of the building and turned to the representative. “No, it won’t do. I told you! I need a good well-furnished place. Not some…” he could not get himself to say the word. Something prevented him from saying a derogatory word. Perhaps the inscription on the wall. For a moment he thought of why someone would have written it. Then he forgot all about it and went off with the representative to look at another place.
What he did not know and what no one told him was this:
A couple had purchased the apartment and had moved in. They were young and had little money, most of which was spent on the apartment. Yet, they had managed to decorate their little home beautifully. Modestly yet tastefully, they had purchased every single thing in their home and every morning when she dusted the flower vase or straightened the picture on the wall, her fingers were extra careful for they knew that all of them were irreplaceable. At least for the next few years.
They had no support of their families. They had married against their will and were disowned by their families. Of course it did not matter much for they loved each other very much. He was bound to get a promotion soon, so that would slightly balance the recent shortage of money that they were facing, their savings exhausted by the recent purchases.
A few months later she gave birth to their daughter. Life seemed to be going good for them. He had received his promotion and they were getting out of their money troubles, starting to replenish their savings fund. One fine evening as she sat waiting for her husband to come back, playing with her daughter, there was a violent knocking on the door. It was a nearby shopkeeper. He was in a state of panic, his eyes wild and almost teary. There were beads of sweat on his face. Almost like cold sweat. Her husband had met with an accident very close to their home and had died on spot.
She never recovered from the shock. She was heartbroken and devastated even months after his death. Life dragged on for her and eventually she was left without any money. Her daughter was growing up. She had to get her enrolled in a school. She had to ensure she is well fed and lives properly. With no help forthcoming, she started to sell off the possessions in their house one by one. Not that it fetched her any reasonable amount of money. And then one day she found herself with nothing save the bare minimum of possessions. It was then that she had decided to sell her home.
Compared to the place she was staying in, the place she was moving to was a hovel. A hole in the vastness of the city, a place where nothing moved and nothing happened. A damp, dirty and smelling hole. Her last evening at this place, she was sitting on the narrow staircase, broken and devastated as tears streamed down her face. For a moment she had hoped that he would come back, just as he did like the days in the past. Her daughter sat near her, playing with a bit of broken black crayon. She had made a mark on the wall. She picked her daughter and made her sit on her lap. Then she gently held her daughter’s hand. She guided her daughter’s hands to write the words that were in her mind. Her daughter. His only token of love left with her, save her broken heart. Tears fell from her eyes as her daughter wrote in her child-like scrawl…Dream House.
- Parekh, Pravesh
September 4, 2013;
10:25 PM
The smell of an abandoned house so distinct, the warmth of two pair of entwined hands so tangible and the childish scrawl so bold on that wall.. One can feel all of that seeping through this piece, almost hitting one like the taste of rich chocolate that is lingering and strong..
ReplyDeleteIts almost excruciating that you put us from an abandoned home, pungent with damn smell and grey walls, to voices filling it with light and warmth, proximity between two people that widens out the small little flat and then throw us back to emptiness and inching void.
A Beautiful Piece! Wonderful! Keep up the good work!
I had goosebumps time and over while reading the last half of the story. Such depth in the slight expanse of events,without even having the need to elaborate they capture the reader's mind and anchor it to that child-like scrawl,'Dream House'. So real,yet undeniably believable yet so subtle. As an author you had treated it like almost as if it were the child itself,the entire story. If one would mark another phrase here or there it would demolish. I admire the beautiful sketch you would have had in mind while penning this down,the sheer compassion between the couple,the nuances of causal casualness of the man who was looking for his 'home' and the play of destiny and the never-ending wrath of time. Splendid! It's almost as if I witnessed their journey and walked down the stairs and felt the scrawling myself,in person.
ReplyDeleteThank you in the earnest for this one! Thank you so much.