||The Broken Nest||
The colours were slowly spreading over the canvas... crimson, yellow, red, green... the fountain of colours swirling on the white canvas paper... then all of those enchanting colours were wrapped inside the veil of black... black and black... the beautiful picture that was being created on the canvas took only a moment to ruin itself. The cruel stroke of the brush stormed over the paper like black smoke from hell, harsh and undisciplined, as if it was the physical entity of the mind of the creator. Helpless and dejected, finally he threw off the brush and gazed at the black hollow that has been created on the canvas... the canvas is reflecting his life right now... empty and black... all black...
He pulled the bottle of whiskey and the glass. It has been 6 pegs already... Let it be! Who cares! He did not even poured the liquor in the glass this time, the bitter taste of alcohol passed through his throat directly from the bottle... the bitter, strong sensation spread a boiling peace inside. Bottles after bottle alcohol are being finished regularly, but he is unable to paint a scratch on the canvas... not a single one... His vacancy in life is directly reflecting on his vacant canvases of studio!
Had he ever felt the black hollow of his life from so close before? Since the day he'd been invited as guest judge in the prize-distribution ceremony of the national level painting competition organised by SSI, and awarded the best artist in his own hand for painting the wonderful picture of... of mother and a child... Since he saw the boy in his own eyes he has lost the remaining peace of his life! The young boy of 18-19, on a wheel-chair, head tilted, indifferent eyes staring at own fingers incoherently and lips quivering with an expression of decent smile and gratitude when everyone is clapping on his name. He took the certificate and the medal from his hand, his lips moved again as he uttered thank you' in a low tone though his eyes did not contact him. His features of face, especially his chin and nose are just like his mother... though he has got his father's hairs... and the talent of painting... He had not recognised him; but hadn't she recognised him too? Wasn't she there inside the proud crowd waving her hands in pride of her son's achievement? Has she forgiven him?
Legs were trembling uncontrollably under the booze. Unable to stand anymore, he sat down on the floor of studio, still the bottle in hand. 12 years... 12 long years have passed since he has seen her. At first she used to call in their landline of Kolkata, mostly to talk with his mother, then the connection lost forever... and she was lost too with the last trace of their love- their son! She was lost, and he never searched for her... How could he! He was too busy with his worthless vacant life! Too busy to buy name and fame worldwide which seem burdens nowadays... From Kolkata to Baroda, Baroda to Paris, Paris to New York... awards after awards... Applauses of critics flooding the media- Jalal Chowdhury, the next Picasso from India! Fame, limelight, money... he flowed and flowed... never ever turned back to see his Jodha standing alone in the dark, alone, with his disabled son!
Perhaps he deliberately had never turned back. From the blind grievance, the piercing resentment and the vapour of ego the indifference took birth easily. He crossed youth, stepped into middle-age, the crown of fame became too heavy; and while turning back for a while when running he discovered that none is there for him... he is alone in his world... the world is vacant! And black!
And then he came in front of him! His son... The part of his soul!
Salim was born in a stormy night. Jalal was not in Kolkata- as a struggling artist he hardly got to live in own house that time-; had stuck in flood at a village, miles far from the town. There were no mobile phones that time to get the news instantly, so when he came back Jodha had already given birth to a baby boy three days ago; a little cotton doll it was- with the chin and nose of Jodha and his hairs. The first child of the generation... he was welcomed in a grand way! Little they had understood that time that the tiny baby boy has born with such a curse! Jodha had complications during pregnancy, and she had to have a delivery before time. He was a premature baby, smaller than normal size, but they could identify none of abnormality before. Slowly they noticed, treatment was started... days after days passed without much of recovery... he grew older, bigger along with the burden of tension and suppressed frustration inside his father's soul. His career had started touching the peak right then, his ambitions are slowly getting way to fly higher and higher; but inside house there was only dark... The part of his soul, his inheritance in this vast earth, the base of his and his lovely wife's long dreams, when used to stare here and there with numb gaze, blabbered gibberish incoherently without having any touch of the real world, grew up old enough to walk and run but could not even sit properly and could never recognized his dad- rather anyone other than his mother- it used to tear up his heart cruelly! He used to literally cry hiding himself at first... then with time the tears and emotions came in control but not the intolerable pain... then slowly with time the pain got buried under the frustration of unsatisfied fatherhood, a strange indifference took birth! He felt suddenly he has no mental connection with his child; he is merely a responsibility to be borne on life-long. Perhaps kids have a sixth sense to understand who wants them and who neglects them. Salim started fearing his father, became over-possessive about mother hardly giving her time to go to Jalal! Distance increased more and more, and that slowly started grabbing the warmth of the relation between the husband-wife. Jalal's indifference for his son was increasing daily, but he can never tolerate his love to be indifferent to him. But beloved Jodha was defeated long back in front of her motherhood... Salim and Jodha had made a different world for themselves, and Jalal was an outsider there!
He finished the rest of the liquor of the bottle and started rubbing his head on floor in tire. Tired...he was hell tired! It's not true that a father's love is selfless- he has no want from his children! Fathers also have a lot to get from their child... the dreams, the ambitions for him, the hope of fulfilling the dreams of fatherhood... and he could never get any of those... He is an artist; his work is to create beauty! But his one and only child, his actual creation in this world was... was defective! How could he endure that truth!
Defective! Disabled! He suddenly started laughing under the intoxication... The ceiling of the room, the silent night was vibrating with the laughter... The unbelievably beautiful picture was floating in front of his eyes... the creation of his son! His legacy in this world!
"Sir!" His PA knocked the door of the studio at late in the morning; but he was not able to stand up properly still! "Come in!" After sitting up with a bit difficulty, he ordered. The young man of 30 entered inside with an enthusiastic hurry. "The organisers have sent the tickets sir. Your flight will depart at 6:25 tomorrow evening!"
"Tomorrow!" He exclaimed like a spellbound!
"Yep Sir." The secretary repeated. "You have to attend a seminar in Paris day after tomorrow, and also you have the press-conference there."
"I will leave India tomorrow!!" He uttered to himself completely ignoring the presence of the second person in the room.
"Today is the last date of your exhibition in Academy sir. They expect your presence heartily there. Will you visit..."
"Rishav!" He suddenly called out the secretary, which bound him to pause. "Yes Sir?"
"I will not go to Paris. Cancel the tour!" He ordered.
"Sir??" Rishav was too astonished to tell something more. He was confused about his next step. Should he abide by his order or ignore it taking it as meaningless blabbering of a drunkard! Maybe real artists cannot create before completely losing their sense in the glasses of alcohol! However, before he could say something another order came. "Check whether there is any flight of Delhi today or tomorrow. I have to go!"
"Delhi sir? But where?"
"To my wife! To my son!" He murmured too low to be heard by Rishav. He still was waiting for his answer. Jalal Chowdhury sighed. "You go and buy the ticket. I am giving you details afterward." He told.
Rishav nodded and was about to go, but he called back. "Rishav! Can you search me the details of the champion of the competition arranged by Spastic Society last week? Where he lives and all? It's urgent!"
"Okay sir!" Rishav got out of the room without wasting question. Jalal sat on a chair to be stable... Head is toiling up in pain, feels like the heartbeat has increased abnormally. Everything should have limit... he has to stop drinking limitlessly from now on! He is touching 50 very soon; he should take care of his health from now! But spontaneously the reverse thought with the cloud of depression enveloped the shy of heart. For whom he will live? For whom he will wish to live long? Is there actually anyone to shed tears for him! Will she waste a drop of her precious tears for her worthless husband who has only insulted her all the life?
He suddenly remembered something; getting up from the chair he moved towards the old trunk with rubbishes stored. "The address! I will get the address here if they haven't shifted!" He wiped his sweat and searched a box of keeping old papers. He opened that, took the first letter in hand. A hundred and one time he has read this one, and it gives the same pain as first time, but still he unfold to read that... perhaps to enjoy the sting of pain. A little letter of 3-4 lines in a very decent language and beautiful handwriting, but as violent as a volcano...
"I don't need your money Jalal. I am returning it to you, and you need not to send me anything from now on. I have never wanted anything from you... except love, which I got plenty from you. Don't insult that love with your charity. I have nothing to gift you now, except relieving you from the bond of our marriage... I am ready to free you for your new bright life ahead! You will get divorce the moment you'd ask for it. "
He had got a golden offer from Baroda when Salim was 6 years old. Jodha denied going. She had applied for a job in an NGO without even informing him, and had got the appointment letter at the same time. "What do you expect? I will leave such an opportunity for your silly reason?" He had yelled.
"I didn't stop you. I know you have to go and I want it too. But perhaps your and my ways are not same onwards!" She had answered calmly.
He had set off to Baroda and Jodha set off to Delhi with her son despite the opposition from their families. Jalal even hadn't gone to see them off! Before going to Paris he met them last time in their house in Kolkata. The pale and skinny Jodha was looking too much dim beside very gorgeous and attractive Jalal that day! As expected Jodha refused to accompany Jalal then also in spite of telling her about the scopes of treatment for Salim... Jalal cannot forget her firm voice in the lonely terrace the night before setting out. "My son will happily live on with his mother's love; he will never need his father's money. I swear!"
Still he had sent a fat check from abroad in their new address in Delhi, to complete the formal responsibility as a husband. The unbreakable love-bond had been worn out along with time; the frustrated rage on her had broken the mental attachment... The check came back after some days, with this letter... and the formal bond of responsibility broke too. Their ways change forever, they lost forever!
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"Sokhi, bhabona kahare bole, Sokhi jatona kahare bole
Tomra je bolo diboso-rojoni bhalobasa bhalobasa,
Sokhi bhalobasa kare koy... se ki keboli jatonamoy?"
[What is called thoughts my friend? What is called pain? You all talk about love day and night; my friend, what is love? Does it only beget pain?]
Closing the eyes Jalal was humming the tune. The voice which is coming through his earphones was of some different singer, but he was listening to someone else's voice... Jodha used to sing this before their marriage... How the first question of this song became so relevant in her life? What has her love given to her except pain and insult? The beautiful moments spending together, the melodies of Jodha, the colours of Jalal, the moon, the nights... the uncountable beautiful memories and the love and dependence for each-other... all had came to meet their end that time, when Jalal desperately was demanding for another child... a normal child!
It was not his own thought. In fact all of their relatives and friends had suggested having another issue after the mishap with the first one... It was Jodha's stubbornness from first to last. Her logic was simple and quite reasonable too. Bringing another child will lead to neglect Salim, as he needs much more attention and care than a normal child. Also since he is very possessive over his mother, he will not be able to accept a sibling ever. At first Jalal also agreed. But days passed and his frustration increased, the dreams of fatherhood again started to be crafted inside, and one day came when he started craving for another child... The unfulfilled dreams of his frustrated fatherhood got a freedom in the way of irresistible desire for a second child... who will bear his heredity; who will fulfil his dreams!
"No!" Jodha had denied at the first instance. "Salim will feel insecure and neglected."
"What type of logic is this?" Jalal's desire was too adamant to understand the simple thing. "Why the hell Salim will feel neglected? Doesn't the rest of the world use to have siblings?"
"Because he cannot think like the rest of the world. He thinks a bit differently." She had smiled. Jodha was strongly against to term her child as disabled or spastic.
"Because he may not like another child in the house, we have to carry out his orders?" Jalal's voice was raising, his apathy with his first child was coming out nude! "What the hell is this? You and your son will not even let me to fulfil my one wish?"
"Why do we need another baby Jalal?" Jodha, suppressing her wound inside the heart had tried to make him understand. "You can see that Salim can't spend a moment without me... he needs me in every instance. I also use to be busy with him. Try to understand, how will I manage my time behind a new-born?" And she had to stop the discussion as she became busy with the plastic models of alphabets, to teach Salim ABCD, which seemed a useless melodrama to Jalal that time.
The heat of fury kept on boiling inside, and in one night it busted like a volcano! The devastating picture of the night: drunken Jalal massacring the bedroom, Jodha, with all her trials to stop him going in vein sitting on the bed covering her face with plam and patting Salim one-two times so that he does not awake! The toys of Salim, the books, the alphabet models, the crayon pencils were lolling on the floor, Jalal was screaming like a mad- "What have you given to me till today? Say? Am I a servant of you and your son?" He had came closer and pulled her chin. "You are not in sense. Go away!" She had ordered firmly, and her authoritative tone made him even more terrible! "You will say me where to go and where to not in my house? You made my whole life hell!" He dragged her by her hairs. Still Jodha did not protest. Didn't even utter a word and kept on hearing his incoherent with tired sigh! He went on..."There is no existence of me in your world! Your world only revolves around your son! You have actually no importance of me else you would never refuse to give me my child!"
"What are you saying? You have no existence in my life? Jalal you are the reason of my life... you and Salim..." She could not sit mum anymore!
"Yes yes Salim! Your Salim is everything to you! You have nothing to think beyond him. You don't care about my status, my life, my feelings..."
"Is Salim someone different from you?" She could not hold her sob anymore... "He is your son. He bears your inheritance..."
"Stop remembering me that again and again!"
"Jalal!!" Perhaps she was unable to believe that her husband is talking with her.
"A deformed, abnormal child and I have to bear him the whole life! Yes I will, I am bound to, but for that I will not be able to fulfil a normal wish of life? You will not give me a normal, perfect child so that you can keep me remembering that how much I am unsuccessful as a father? "
"Please Jalal stop this nonsense!"
"Non-sense? What is non-sense? Your abnormal son has made my life a hell and you claim that as non-sense? Listen... you have to become mother again... I want a normal child understand? Then you do whatever with your Salim, I will not go to see!"
"Don't dare to say my son abnormal again Jalal! I will not spare you!" Jodha had hissed for the first time. "You want a normal' child na, so go and get it from any other normal woman! Spare me and my son from your life! I am not a machine of baby-production!"
Everything had been messed; he was unable to express what exactly he meant, she misinterpreted which was very normal for her and his outburst due to boozing became more violent. The animal inside him had come out with teeth and claws, was going to tear her up alive... but he was harshly protested by a meaningless scream. The next moment he had felt an inflammation on hand, which got him back to normal sense.
His abnormal' child had woke up; and did the apt thing to protect his mother's honour from assault according to his strength... had bit his hand as strongly as he could so that he cannot hurt his mother! He could never look at Salim's face after that out of shame! His deformed child showed him how much normal he is than his pervert father!
And after one month of this incident she left him forever... "I will take my son away far from your shadow so that he can live!" She had said.
The air-hostess announced off the landing. Putting off the earphones from ears he opened his eye. Tears of regret have wet his cheeks...
How will he face them after an era? How will he claim his fatherhood from him? Is it even possible to forgive him?
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The school for differently able children... the environment of the place itself gives a soothing peace in burning soul. Jalal was watching the little children of the school playing on the playground from the window of the office room. Children- the flowers of the God... how can someone hate them! What kind of beast was he in his young days? Artist! Creator of beauty! Damn it!
"Madam is coming in 2 minutes sir." The obliged manager chuckled. "Please be sited sir! A man like you has stepped into this building..."
"I am no one in front of you all!" He smiled decently. "The way you all are accommodating this great work... really bow down to your thoughts and hard-work. Nothing can be as greater than working for benefit of mankind! "
"We are just workers sir." He smiled. "All credits go to our Madam- I mean the head-mistress of the school! She had joined the school as an ordinary teacher; that time it was only a small building with 50-60 students; even we hardly used to afford the fees for the workers. Now this school comes under top 10 schools for differently-able children of this country. All has become possible because of Madam. Really a great woman is she!"
He was feeling thrilled with each and every words of the manager. Jodha... his Jodha!
"And also it's for the donations and supports from the great-minded people like you who always have supported us to keep on going forward with the mission of doing something for the children." The man grinned. "Keep supporting us this way sir; we all are obliged!"
"One thing regarding donation; please keep my name in secret. None except you should know that I donated for this organisation!" He pleaded.
"You are really great sir. Famous people do charity most of the time to be in limelight but you actually don't want any publicity about it. Real charity should be like this..."
Jalal could not hear all these as some fonts were floating in front of his eyes. "I don't need your money Jalal... Don't insult that love with your charity!" The rock inside throat again strangulated him, and the slight ache scratched on the left chest. He took a long breath to cope up with it, and just then a shadow of a tall, slender figure appeared in front of door.
"You may go Mr. Singh, I am attending him." The very measured voice of an elegant woman, full of rigid personality floated on air. He looked at her, and the current of shock flowed through his arteries. How can a person change such a way in only 12 years? How much old is she? Supposed to be not more than 44-45; but the lines of experiences on the face along with the weary of life-long struggle in the eyes which are covered under the thick glasses of spectacles have wiped out the charm of youth forever from her face. The tall and slim figure has become slender with age, the bones of the throat has been clearly visible. But the dignified elegance in the personality brightened the room just the moment she came in.
He was gazing at her face forgetting about the rest of the world, but she did not seem to be much surprised. She came closer and sat on a chair before, smiled delicately. "I don't know why, but I had expected you to come!" Her voice didn't chock, eyes didn't tremble as she stated very normally. Have the storm of time took over all of her emotions? Or Jalal is no longer worth of her emotions too?
His throat shivered a bit as he wanted to talk, but not a single sound came out. Jodha too kept quiet for a moment, keeping the formal decent smile intact on her lips. The string of conversation might have in her hand, but she did not free that. Like a stony idol she sat in front of the broken man shivering in repentance... The old scar from the pages of past started hammering her heart, but still, her eyes did not tremble.
"I saw you from close after a very long time... that day in royal academy hall when you were awarding the young painters." She smiled cordially this time. "Though I know all the details of you. About your paintings, your interviews, your lectures in Art colleges, the venues of exhibitions everything! My Salim is a great fan of you! He collects each and every detail on you from wherever he gets..."
"Salim..." He only could utter the name.
"Yes. Even in that day he was more excited to see you than to get the award." Perhaps the topic of her son brought a trace of emotion in her eyes. "He has got your talent of painting!"
"He has a great skill! Much better than me." he exclaimed in a strange satisfaction.
"I have called him. He is coming after the art class for the little children gets over." She looked at her watch. "He teaches painting in the lower classes actually. Though he himself is student; he had appeared for board last month, now willing to join the art college."
"He has completed his schooling too!" A drop of tear suddenly rolled down from his cheeks... that tear was not of his repentance, but of happiness! Pure happiness! "He has... has grown up!"
"And he has recovered a lot too. He can speak in need; can do the usual works, can drive his wheel-chair on his own..."
"He looks just like you!" he murmured while flowing with nostalgia. She smiled. "And he has got the rarest quality from his father!"
Father! The word father stormed in his heart once more with the tide of happiness and agony! "Does he remember me?" He asked under a spell...
"He knows that Jalal Chowdhury is his father!" She stated.
Maybe the picture of that blasphemous animal of his childhood has completely erased off from his memory. For him now his father is Jalal Chowdhury, the world-famous painter, the owner of very decent personality!
Again a long silence... till someone knocked the door. "Come dear." Jodha called.
Jalal stared at the path of the movement of the wheel-chair. The boy of 18-19 in a deep blue T-shirt, face tilted a bit, eyes fixed on the lap and a smile on the lips was coming towards him. Jodha held the chair, brought that in front of him. "Look who is he, Salim?"
Salim didn't utter anything, only his lips moved and smile broadened. His gaze was getting hazy...the face of Salim was slowly getting blurred... The sheer pain in chest started again, heartbeat doubled, as if someone is hammering inside!
"What happened my son? Talk to him." Jodha ruffled his hairs. "Bid him hello... And then you have to show him all your works too..."
Jalal could not resist anymore... getting up from the chair, he knelt down in front of the wheel-chair; in an irresistible desperation cupped his face inside his palms to see him properly... His clumsy, blurred eyes ran through his innocent face for once, and then he felt his chest will burst out into pieces not being able to bear this intolerable pressure of agony and guilt! His hands were shivering in the jolt of his heart, throat was chocking again and again, eyes were too heavy to hold the tears anymore... and Salim touched his hands just then. An icy yet soothing current flew through his spine. In a distinct manner, in very low voice Salim uttered. "H-E-L-L-O..."
"Hello!" He uttered in an even lower chocked voice while caressing his cheeks and hairs.
"Talk with him Salim. Who is he? Call him in that name?" His mother instructed from back. He got the instruction very swiftly and smiled again... "H-e-l-l-o D-a-d!"
The tide inside his soul was wiping out all the traces of his existence. Only he could hear a little word... dad!' All his entity has been mingled into this small word... he does not want anything from the world anymore! Only give him back the last 18 years of his life! A single chance of rectifying the mistake that he done by destroying his entity in own hands! His lips were trembling; whole body was shivering in excitement. Tears had no barrier to fall from his eyes... Salim, with his innocent touch, tried once to wipe his cheeks and he could not resist him from breaking down fully anymore. He pulled him towards him, clasped his body with arms and embraced him tightly, thrashed himself against his body and broke down in wailing tears crying his heart out! The rock of guilt inside his heart had melted, and was coming out in the form of tears... "Never forgive me my son! Never forgive me!" He was sobbing terribly!
She was witnessing the whole incident. Even her hard, rigid heart too felt the jolt of that flood; even her eyes got cloudy; after a long era she was smiling from her heart!
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It was the time to bid good-bye at last. Jodha came with him to the main gate of the school-complex. It was a beautiful evening. Twilight had melted over the whole sky; the birds were going back to their nest. Birds can build their new nests again from the debris of their broken nest. Why can't human?
"Bye!" Jalal greeted, but his legs did not move to leave.
"Will you leave India tomorrow again?" She asked perhaps to lighten the situation.
"Yes. I have a seminar in Paris. Though I planned to cancel it first, but..." he sighed. "I think I should go!"
"Hmm!" She reciprocated.
"I wish you..." he was in dilemma while stating. "You would think about it again! For at least once..."
"About coming with you?" She smiled. "No Jalal, it's not possible. As you can see I have a lot of children here. How can I leave them?"Paused for an instance, then she said. "A mother can never think anything beyond her child!"
Though she told it very normally, but it pierced Jalal's heart like a sharp arrow. "Hmm!" He uttered.
"You can visit us anytime you get scope from your busy schedule. Salim will see your path."
"Hmm!" He sighed deeply. "Okay then, bye now!" He again stopped before getting on the car. With gloomy eyes he smiled again. "And you? Won't you be happy if I come again?"
"Yes I will!" She laughed. He for a moment gazed at her amused face, and exhaled a deep sigh. "I never expected to get back my love again Jodha; but did not know that..." the drop of tear at the corner of eyes shined in twilight... "That... I won't be worth of your hatred also!"
"What are you telling Jalal!" Her voice seemed different now. "Is it so easy to hate the person whom you had loved once with all your existence?"
Again the curtain of silence dropped down between the two. After a long time he spoke out. "You have nothing to tell me Jodha? Something that's only between you and me?"
Her lips quivered for the first time before she could answer. "Don't drink this much Jalal! I know may be you need it but... if possible reduce the amount! You can't see perhaps but... but you are not well! Your health has broken badly and it's clearly seen!"
Her voice had concern for him; and this little sentence bore immense peace for Jalal's heart. He dared to touch her hands after a long time! "And you? How are you Jodha?"
"I am happy!"Jodha smiled but the corner of her eyes shined. "Happy like never before!"
The world had stopped revolving around them; time had stopped to move... The two middle-aged man and woman were staring at each other under the canopy of evening sky... Time wipes out everything from the pages of memory... the love, the hatred everything... but God knows how a drop of tear gets spared from the grab of time, which still has the power of connect two hearts together?
"I wish to know one thing Jodha..." Jalal uttered in broken voice. "Amader geche je din, ekebarei ki geche? Kichui ki nei baki?" [Though our days have passed; have they gone forever? Nothing is remained today?]
"Perhaps! Perhaps not!"Jodha smiled. "Time will say! Now you go Jalal; you are getting late..."
Jalal's cab slowly got disappeared towards the horizon, Jodha gazed at his path for some time, then sighed and turned back towards the school...her house...her family...
Humans do not need to repair a broken nest that they left behind long back... as they can find a whole vast sky for their shelter... for their life!
[Partially inspired from a true story that I heard from my mother some days back...😳]
[I have used a Bengali song and a line of a Bengali poem of Rabindranath Tagore here... It's very tough to do justice with the translation of His work with my very little knowledge of English, still I have tried to express the meaning of those lines...]
Fan Fictions
Kabhi Neem Neem Kabhi Shahad Shahad
