Visiting her hometown in the wintry days was very rare for Rihaa. She had a specific time of the year when she liked visiting that place. That time was April. She loved that month because the weather would be very subtle with rains drenching the parched earth and emanting a fragrance she would want to devour. And then the very next day, the sun would shine brightly making the rain drops in the leaves glisten. It was in this month that the sounds of ‘dhol’ and ‘pepa’ would resonate in the air with young dancers spreading joy with the merry and graceful ‘Bihu’ dance. Yes April meant ‘Bihu’ and ‘Bihu’ meant bliss for Rihaa. That’s the time of the year when Rihaa would take out her treasured ‘Mekhela Saadors’, and wear them. She would adorn a red bindi, wear gold bangles and admire herself in the mirror. Her mother would laugh and say, ‘Imaan bhaal pao toi sador mekhela! Keijur maan eibaar loi jaabi. Saador mekhela bhaal ke pindhibo xiki lobi. Olop tight ke pindhibi. Tetiya bhaal dekhe.’ (You love Saador Mekhela so much, don’t you! This time, buy some and take them with you. And learn how to wear. Always remember, saador mekhela should be wrapped tight.’
Rihaa, the name itself means a specific variety of the traditional Assamese ‘Saador’.
This year, the pandemic made things hard for everyone. Rihaa had planned to visit her hometown twice, but thanks to the stupid virus, she had to cancel her visit. Finally, she decided, she could not wait for ‘April’. She would visit in November itself.
The moment the airplane started descending, she looked out of the window. Diwali lights in every household made the evening beam bright. As she stepped out of the airplane, she smiled and thought of her home, how her parents will react on seeing her, the bliss of meals cooked by mom, a place where she could be herself without the fear of being judged.
She got her luggage and booked a cab. She could feel a slight pain on her forehead. She knew this was the onset of her migraine attack. By the time she reached home, this mild pain would become a throbbing headache and would last till next day. She immediately popped a painkiller in her mouth and swallowed with a gulp. She could not afford to ruin her first day with her parents.
The traffic was bad. The entire road was clogged because of a bridge construction. Neverending sounds of cars honking, made her headache worse. She waited for the painkiller to work. She looked at her watch. It was almost 45 minutes since she had left the airport. Had there been no traffic, she would have reached her home by now.
The painkiller began its work and by the time the pain vanished, Rihaa was at her home. Her dad was waiting downstairs. She hugged him tight and rushed upstairs to meet her mom. Her mom Raji knew Rihaa’s love for tea with milk and sugar made in boiling water with an essence of bayleaf. She had just kept that tea ready in the flask when she saw Rihaa. Riha wrapped her arms around Raji’s shoulders and said, ‘It’s so nice to be home Maa. I missed you and Papa so much.’ Raji patted Rihaa’s cheek and said, ‘I know sweetheart. It has been 2 and a half years.’ Rihaa went to the window of the living room and looked out and said, ‘Yes Maa.’ Pointing to the railway track at a visible distance from the window, Rihaa said, ‘I miss the sound of the trains as well. And not forget the view of the blissful garden from this window. I am so thankful to our neighbours here for this soulful garden with the ambrosial flowers brightening up everyone’s day. I miss my morning cup of tea sitting here, soaking up some warm sun, treating my eyes to the beauty of the blossoms in the garden and looking at passers by either rushing to work or taking a walk or the busy hawkers hoping to sell something and earn a little to satiate their hungry stomachs.’
Rihaa woke up early next day. Morning dawns early here and the sun sets early too. Rihaa went to the kitchen, made a cup of tea for herself, went to her favorite spot. She sat on the sofa beside the living room window overlooking the garden, the busy little street and the railway track. The weather was somewhat chilly. She could see people engrossed in their morning walk schedule. She saw a couple, maybe in their early 60s, diligently walking. ‘Maybe they have health issues…. or maybe they want to lose weight….’, Rihaa thought. She then smiled to herself and said, ‘It’s fun watching people from this spot.’ She finished her cup of tea when she suddenly saw something. She looked Raji came to the kitchen and saw Rihaa laughing alone. She asked, ‘What happened! You are laughing alone.’ Trying to control her laughter, Rihaa said, ‘You will laugh too. However you have to see that scene on your own.
If I narrate it you won’t find it funny. Wake up early tomorrow and I will show you.
Next morning Rihaa woke up early again. She made her cup of tea and sat beside the window. She waited for the ‘scene’. She shouted, ‘Maa, come here quick. Come come.’ Raji came. Rihaa giggled and pointed out to a man outside. Laughing out loudly, Rihaa said, ‘Look at that man and see what he does.’ Raji looked out. She saw a man. He was thin. He had a cloth bag hung in his shoulder. Walking with wobbly feet, he came close to the garden of the neighbours, went close to the pillar adjacent to the gate, took off his slippers, joined his hands and prayed to the pillar. He then walked away. Seeing that, Rihaa laughed and said, ‘Did you see that Maa! That drunkard, he always does this. He can’t even stand properly. Why does he have to drink early in the morning? He then prays to the pillar and then he walks away.’ Laughing nonstop, Rihaa said, ‘And maa, funny part is, I have seen him coming back in the afternoon. God knows where he goes. He can’t even walk properly. Why does he even drink?’
Raji looked at Rihaa and said, ‘Let me get my cup of tea.’ Rihaa laughed and said, ‘You did not find it funny?’. Raji replied, ‘Let me get my tea and then I will tell you.’
Raji went to the kitchen, got her cup of tea, sat beside Rihaa and said, ‘Well, that gentleman’s name is Dr. Devaraj Sharma. He is a great litterateur. He used. to write poetry and fiction. And every day he would go to the library, read and come. He must have read a colossal number of books. He would always walk to the library. On his way, he would always offer prayers at our temple upstairs. He would not come upstairs, but he would take off his slippers, join his hands and offer prayers from the road below. He is now in his late 60s. He and his wife live in the lane behind this street. They are childless. As he aged, he had some neurological issues. Hence his body keeps on shivering most of the time. He somehow lost some sense of direction. Everytime he walks this way, he misses our temple and stops at the pillar at our neighbour’s home presuming that is the temple. He prays there and then walks to the library. Somehow he remembers that direction. He waits for the library to open. Spends time there and walks this way to his home.’
Rihaa listened to her mom stunned. As she listened her eyes went moist.
Next morning, Rihaa woke up early as always and waited. The moment she saw the gentleman, she ran downstairs. She waited for the gentleman to finish his prayers at the pillar. She then greeted him and said, ‘Hello Uncle!’ The gentleman turned around weakly and looked at Rihaa confused. Rihaa said, ‘I see you everyday. My maa said you write. So I thought I should talk to you. I love writing too.’ Dr. Sharma spoke weakly with his feeble voice, ‘To write well, you should read well. Go to the library and read often.’ He then took out a book from his bag and gave it to Rihaa and told her, ‘Read this book of mine. Hope you like it.’ Rihaa took the book, beamed and said, ‘Thank you so much uncle.’ Rihaa came back home and rushed to Raji. Raji asked Rihaa, ‘Where had you been? That too so early in the morning?’ Rihaa showed the book in her hand to her mom and said, ‘Got this book from a great litterateur to hone my writing skills.’ Raji read the name of the book and the writer, looked at Rihaa, smiled. and said, ‘You never fail to make me proud.’ Raji patted Rihaa’s head and said, ‘Be your beautiful self always my daughter. I am proud of you.’
