She lay with her head on his lap. Her long curly tresses fanned out forming a halo, as he kneaded his hands through them. The fragrance of her freshly shampooed hair was intoxicating. And she was well aware of the effect it had on him.
His fingers left her hair to caress her brows. The round circles that he drew around them smoothening the creases, comforted her.
Planting a kiss on her forehead, he announced “You don’t look your age, Shona!”
She smiled. Her eyes were still shut. “Yes yes…I know. I hardly look sixty.”
“Ahh, is that a superiority complex?”
“Oh yes, and you are to blame for it. Constantly showering me with compliments and making me believe I look like a thirty-year-old and not sixty.”
“Sixty! You will never grow up for me. Still the twenty-year-old I had met on the train.”
“You are caught in a time warp, buro.”
She felt the stiffening of his hands. Looking up she caught the fleeting look of sadness that passed through his face and automatically regretted saying it.
“I am sorry. I did not mean it.”
He stood up. ” Now get up and let’s go for a walk.”
They walked hand-in-hand through the garden. The roses were in full bloom. So were the Chrysanthemums and the Dahlias. He plucked one and planted it in her hair.
“The sunflower adds to your beauty.”
She blushed and looked down at her sari. “I wore yellow – your favourite colour.”
Intertwining their fingers, he said. “And I wore this.”
“Dark colours go well against your grey hair, dear buro. And the kurta…I have always found it flattering on you.”
Drawing her closer, he said. “Let’s go farther this time. There is a stream that flows past and the sunset is worth watching.”
**
“Amma. Amma. Wake up. It’s almost dark. Time to close the park.”
She woke up, brushed away the tears, straightened her sari, adjusted the clips in her hair, slung the bag across her shoulders and walked away.
The Chowkidar stood watching her. Every year, on this day, the lady arrives at the sunset point wearing a yellow sari. She spends the day talking to herself. And then lies down on the bench. Just before sunset, she sets off for the river where he always finds her fast asleep. And it always seems to him that she has company. But there is no one.
Rubbing the goosebumps that had cropped up, he dismissed the fear. Probably she has dementia. Else how can a well-dressed, elderly woman afford to take flight in the wings of fantasy?
He turned around one last time, saw nothing, switched on the lights, blew the whistle and walked away. If he had stayed a bit longer, he would have noticed a shadow sitting beside the river!
Glossary
*Sona – A term of endearment.
*Buro – Old. Used endearingly here
By Sreemati Sen
Sreemati Sen holds a Masters in Social Work from Shantiniketan. A Development Professional,
she has specialized in Psychiatric Care of Differently-abled children. Years of experience in
Social and Consumer Research are also a part of her portfolio. Her stories have been featured in
various anthologies.
She can be contacted at Sreemati123p@gmail.com.
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