Abhay knew that he belonged to the hills. When he was two, his father had been transferred to the majestic hills of Darjeeling and Abhay had grown up there, in the Queen of the hills. Every winter, when the first flakes of snow fell on the grounds, Abhay would wait eagerly for the arrival of his family friend, the Jaiswals, who would visit Darjeeling every year around this time. Abhay loved this time, when they would sit together around the fireplace of their home'he, his father, his grandmother, Mr. and Mrs. Jaiswal and their daughter Piya. Amidst hot cups of coffee and the chirping of crickets, they would talk and laugh together.
And Christmas was the best time, undoubtedly. Abhay's mother had died when he was seven, but she had taught him to play the piano. Her piano was one of the things that Abhay had to lock in his mother's memories and each year at Christmas, he would invent a different tune and he and Piya would together make a song of their own, which they would proudly add to their "Abhay-Piya carol collection."
But that had been in the past, when they were younger. Those happy times were just memories now, memories of a distant past, a far-gone time.
Abhay stared at a picture of him and Piya, dressed in fur coats, laughing as they aimed snowballs at each other and sighed sadly. This picture had been taken the year he had turned sixteen, she fifteen. Their last happy Christmas together. The Christmas he would always remember as the last time he had seen Piya's eyes twinkle with happiness, heard her happy laughter, heard her shouts echoing through the hills.
Tragedy had struck soon after. Piya's father had fallen slightly sick that winter, so Abhay's father had agreed to go with the Jaiswals to make sure they reached home safe. But they had never reached their destination. On the way, they had met with a massive accident, colliding with a loaded truck. Piya, who had been flung out of the car on impact, had been the only one to survive. She had hung by the side of the cliffs there, engulfed in dark and terror and cold, and had watched the three adults die in front of her eyes. No one had come to help for a long time. The memory and trauma of the accident was so much that although she survived, it had cut her from the outside world.She withdrew into herself, not speaking to anyone, never expressing any emotions. Abhay's grandmother had taken Piya under her care and although she stayed with them, ate with them, lived with them, she was not with them. She was in her own little world, far out of their reach.
It had been six years since that fateful day. Abhay was twenty-two now. He had been offered a job in his father's company after his father's death and he had originally taken up the job, needing to support his grandmother , himself and Piya. But he wanted to be independent. Using his saved up pocket money, and saving part of the salary he received, he had built up his own business successfully.
A sound of something falling to the floor and breaking jolted Abhay out of his reverie. He turned around to see Piya looking down with a blank expression. Abhay's eyes followed her sight to the ground to see a vase lying broken on the ground now. He looked up at her to see her looking at him through hollow eyes.
"Did u break it? So's who's clumsy now?" he teased her lightly. Earlier, these remarks used to trigger friendly fights between them, so he was hoping that Piya would break out of her shell this time and fight back too. But nothing of the sort happened. Piya looked at him blankly for a few more moments and then turned around and left the room, leaving Abhay feeling terrible. He couldn't take it any more. Piya was so special in his life, and he liked her. A lot. Maybe more than like; he loved her. And it ached him to see her life getting wasted, to see her so near and yet so far away from him, and he hated himself for being so helpless.
He felt a hand squeezing his fingers and turned around to see his grandmother smiling at him, her wrinkled face still strong, her bespectacled eyes still wise with the wisdom of the years.
"It hurts, Granny" he whispered, finally, unable to keep his sorrow to himself. "It hurts to see her like this."
"Things will right themselves, my son, have patience" his Granny told him.
"How much longer?" he asked, his eyes tearing slightly. "Isn't six years more than enough?"
Granny sighed. "Soon, my son, soon" she said "The poor girl's been through a lot, witnessing the most terrible loss so unexpectedly.
**********
"Abhay, my son, will u do something for me?" Granny asked, entering the room. "I've collected some clothes I wish to give to the poor for this Christmas. I think Ram might have mistakenly kept the bundle in the attic. Could u get it for me?All the servants are also on holiday. It's already Christmas eve. I'll go out early in the morning tomorrow."
Abhay looked up from the file he was reading. "Of course I'll get it Granny. Let me just finish this file. U go to sleep Ok? I'll keep it in ur room."
His Granny smiled. "Thank u, boy. Good night."
**************
Abhay stretched as he finally kept the file he was working on back on the table. It had taken longer than expected, and it was almost eleven in the night. He stood up and pulled his jacket even more securely around him, starting to walk out of his room towards the attic. He normally never went there, especially ever since that fateful night when he had lost his father and Piya had been orphaned as well. He had stuffed his mother's piano here, away from his sight, and had tried to forget each memory of the cheerful Christmases he and Piya had had together. He wondered where the diary of "Abhay-Piya carol collection" was. Stuffed and lost somewhere in the attic as well, he thought wryly. He didn't care. It hurt to think about those happy times, and he tried to avoid things which brought back those memories. He reached the attic, and paused, his hand n the attic door handle. He would just pick up the bundle of clothes and rush out, he thought with a resolute sigh. He wouldn't look at any photos or things kept there. And most certainly not at the piano, he told himself as he pushed the attic door open, reaching his hand out for the lights.
*********************
Piya's eyes were blank as she stood at the closed window of her room, staring outside at the darkness of the hills. She could see the church in the distance, lit up with lights. Sleep evaded her. It usually did, and even when she did sleep, she would wake up almost at once, terrified by nightmares of that terrible night.
She heard a sound and turned to catch a glimpse of Abhay going somewhere. She could tell Abhay was trying to come close to her, comfort her, love her, but she couldn't bring herself out from her shell. She had reached somewhere where even she could not rescue herself from.
**********
Abhay coughed slightly, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. He spotted the bundle of clothes almost at once and bent down to pick it up, determined to turn around and leave as soon he had it in his arms, and lock the attic along with the memories of those times away in the darkness and dust once more.
As he picked it up, his eyes betrayed him, straying to a loose sheet of paper lying on the floor nearby. Something seemed to have been scribbled on it, unreadable at first glance. But his traitor eyes stared at it for a second too long and he realized what it was.
Music. Piano music.
His breath hitched as the memories he had been trying so hard to hold back came rushing forth. Him and Piya, fighting and laughing as they scribbled tunes to songs they would make up on their own, each year during Christmas time. The sound of the piano, filling the air with its sweetness, Piya's cute voice, Abhay's giggles in between..so much happiness..so much warmth'
Forgetting all about his earlier resolution, Abhay droped the bundle, reaching out one shaky hand to hold the piece of paper. It must have come loose, the diary of those treasured songs would be near here somewhere maybe. He raised his eyes, trying to search where it was and his eyes fell on the piano. He walked over towards it.
With trembling hands, he removed the cloth covering it. His mother's piano, his and Piya's musical friend'..
It was dusty without use. Abhay took the cloth covering it, and tried to clean off the dust, and accidentally pressed one of the keys. The sound echoed around and his heart thumped faster..
Who was he kidding? All these years, he had tried to tell himself that if he stayed away from all these, the pain of seeing Piya like this would be less, that he would hurt less. But it had all been a wrong thinking. The pain had intensified, the hurt seared him. Not seeing these things had intensified the memories instead of making them disappear-so what was the use of running away?
He put his fingers to the piano, trying to play the tune written there. A wonderful warm feeling crept through him, a bittersweet feeling of terrible joy and immense sadness. He was transferred for a moment to years ago, playing with a curly-haired brown-eyed girl in front of a fireplace, his own blue eyes alight with joy'
His fingers slipped so that one of the tunes went off-key. He opened his eyes, trying to locate the right key, when to his shock and surprise, softer fingers pressed the right key before him, completing the tune.
Not daring to believe for fear that it would all be his imagination, he turned to his right, moving his gaze up and his blue eyes met Piya's gentle baby-brown ones.
She was crying. Abhay stared at her, his mouth half open in shock, unable to believe that he was seeing emotions in her for the first time since the accident. He eyes were no longer blank, they stared at him deeply, tears still falling from her eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Abhay felt numb, only one thought going through his brain. She's back. My Piya's back.
And then her trembling lips moved.
"Abhay'"
Her voice jolted feeling through him. In a rush, he was on his feet, his arms going around her delicate form as she too clutched him tightly to herself, as though fearing that he would disappear if she let go. They cried together, holding each other, her face buried in his chest, as torrents of grief locked up all these years burst forth, his buried in her hair, his voice murmuring'"Oh,Piya, I've missed u'God, I've missed u so much.."
They finally pulled away, their arms still around each other, their eyes still on each other. "The music..I'I remembered it'Abhay..we..we..if u'd never played..if..I'd never..maybe.."
Abhay put a finger on her lips, his eyes wide in wonder as he shook his head gently. "It's ok, I have u back" he murmured. "Everything will be fine now'"
The church bells tolled then, signaling Christmas. At the same time, Abhay caught sight of something white outside the attic window and he glanced in that direction. It was snowing.
"Piya, look it's snowing" he whispered. "The first snow of this year."
Piya merely hugged him tight. "Merry Christmas, Abhay."
Abhay hugged her back, his eyes closing as happy tears came out of his eyes. "Merry Christmas Piya" They stood there quietly, holding each other, watching the snow fall together.
A smile lit up Abhay's face as he realized the Christmas of his childhood was back. Miracles do happen, he thought in wonder, and we have the power to make them happen.
comment:
p_commentcount