Coffee Stains

Saroj looked towards the old red building as she stepped out of the taxi. She did not have lots of luggage. Just a small bag with a few belongings to suffice her for a few days. Until she is here -- in her home town. Calcutta. It might have become Kolkatta now. But for her it will always be Calcutta. The city she grew up in. Today after 33 years she was back. Has it been 33 years already? She asked herself. Was it not just yesterday when she was the darling of her dad and 2 elder brothers? When she was the little princess of her mother?

She was so caught up in life that 33 years ..just went by. She got married to Ravi, the man her parents chose for her, who sometimes, she feels, is still a stranger to her. She was a dutiful wife and the best mother to her two daughters. Now, that her daughters are married and Ravi was out for business for a week, she could leave all of them behind. Atleast for a few days. She had spent the last 33 years living for everyone but herself. She had earned a short break for herself.

She started climbing up the stairs of the red building she used to call home. Her house was on the second floor. Age had started to take a toll on her. She could feel her knees straining while she climbed up, smiling at the memory of the time when she used to run down the same stairs to catch her tram to school. She opened the lock, and pushed away the crash gate. The view of her home, which now stood, covered in dust, was painful. A house full of sounds of the her brothers quarreling, her mother's instructions to Nathu -- the house help, Her Father's serious discussions with his friends was overshadowed by the silence which ruled the house in their absence. She remembered how annoyed she would be by all those noises, when she would try to study or read. She loved reading. Never the one with lots of friends, she found solace in the company of her books.

Today, for just that moment, she wanted those annoying noises back. She wanted her mother, whom she lost to cancer, nag her, "Why dont you go out like other girls! Saroj?" She wanted her two brothers, Pramod and Prabhat, to irritate her. She wanted her father to come to her like always and say, "Baby ji (That is what he would call her) What are you reading today?" For just today, she wanted her home to spring back to life. Only if.

Towards the right was her room. It was used by her nephew after her. There were torn posters of rock bands she didn't recognize. But the room still held her. She felt the same comfort she would feel years ago surrounded by the same four walls. She walked near her study table. The 3 children had carved out their names on the table. She could see Prabhat struck out and Saroj written below it. Aaah!! and there are those endless coffee stains, left by her after she would pull all nighters before her exams. They haven't faded. She noticed.

She went to all the rooms and felt the same gush of emotions coming in. Her Parents' room, her Brothers' room and the kitchen. The place where her mother, the best cook in the world, would make her best dishes. She remembered the sundays where all the family would sit together for a heavy breakfast,usually Poori Sabzi, and how all the three children would fight to take place besides their dad. The kitchen was also the place where her mother trained her to be the fine cook that she is today. "Although, I am not even half of her." She thought fondly remembering her mother. She was the most beautiful lady she knew.

Passing through the hallway, she remembers the last day in this house. She was just nineteen. But like most of the parents, her parents decided to marry her to the simple engineer boy from Raipur -- to a strange city and a stranger family. She never knew how to rebel. She never ever knew that she could say a "No". Her last minute packing was in process. There were suitcases all over. Was she really leaving? She was not focusing on her packing. Too much always overwhelmed Saroj. Even today. Weddings are happy times. They are equally sad. "Wasn't chachi ji (that's what she called her mom) crying non stop? And so was I." She reminisced. Even Chachaji could not control his tears. His favorite daughter was to leave the house tomorrow.

"There's never a day when I don't remember you." She said out loud in the empty house, hoping ... knowing that wherever her Parents are, they would be listening to her. Her voice was shaky but she tried to control the tears. Her girls would always make fun of how her tears are "ever ready" to fall. But today they had to come out. In the memory of Chachi ji, the silent loving mother, In the memory of Chacha ji, the most wonderful Dad a girl could have asked for and in the memory of Pramod --- her favourite elder brother, whom she lost in an accident. She instinctively walked towards her room, her sanctuary since forever, and cried, taking the support of her study table, fondly touching the name carvings and the coffee stains, which just like memories, never fade away.