Captured by hope

What abides is incredulity in the incorrigible opportunism of being.
The sweet fragrance of the soul seducing my life with a dream which comes true!

Vibhor was weeping copiously between bouts of imbecile laughter. The weeping belonged to the spirit, which carried the conditioned life of his body. Only he felt the collapse within, while the commune could only see his jolly exterior. It was the façade of a forty-five years old family man in a thriving business. A fairly prosperous prospect for an entourage -who was shop keeping. There was a woman by his side with two children- a girl and a boy. They were greeting everybody with smiles between yawns. It was like a shadow play of the half living on the sprawling fabric of society, made by man to nourish the instincts. But the spirit had a fundamental need which went beyond the instincts. A need which makes the organism sick if denied. This was manifested in the yearning to give and receive love without motive. It was weeping from this abysmal deprivation. Vibhors silent weeping was transmitting itself into the artistic sensitivity of his spouse - Rama. Everything was an uncreative drag- business, household chores and the routine fumbling of bodies in copulation. Her joints rattled with imaginary aches -and she conversed with herself to cope with loneliness. Deep within the secret recesses of her heart, she resented the offspring -for whom she was giving her life.The resentment leaked out in endless attempts to control the environment She could not allow them ‘to be’- because they had sabotaged her growth.
Trapped in the institute of marriage the two creatures were surviving in a random pattern by sheer force of habit. An institute, which was formulated to fulfill the human need for individuation was denying the needs of the individual.
Rama was an average looking woman .Her natural inclination was towards art and music. She was an ardent scholar of the latter in her youth- and the old musical notes still penetrated the forbidden gates of ennui sometimes. An advertisement in the local daily gave her a new momentum towards self expression. The advertisement showed a want for ‘pragmatic philosophers to create music’. The sound of water dropping from the leaking roof formed a composition in her heart and a stone dissolved in her bent frame. The family found her weeping inconsolably that evening. She felt entitled to her grief after twenty long and barren years. There was a pragmatic entity called ‘philosopher’- who created music, and the world wanted him!
There was an inexpressible change in the food eaten by Rama’s family from that day. She had found the courage to insist that they all eat together at the same time, on the same table; as she needed time to practice her music lessons. Time spent together led to a season of self discovery through inquiry into each other. Reserved mumblings slowly metamorphosed in animated conversations. Sensitivity started permeating Rama's cooking for the different needs of the family members and they thawed to the change in her. End of that month found Ramas family cooking together against a melody on the old recorder.
In this new atmosphere of bonhomie; Rama learnt to value herself. Her little house reflected the personal care she gave to herself. But her new love for self also sought to free the ones she loved .It demanded space! Rama had bloomed and the fragrance was spreading beyond her fences -tuning into the yearnings of others like her.
She felt trapped. A chilling void settled in her heart .Every morning she rose in tears which fell -threatening to extinguish the fire that kept the house warm. Her dream had created the energy for action. A dream, which had emerged in her heart center. A tender, soft and beautiful dream which made her loose her conventional mind -giving a push beyond the fears of conditioning. Rama announced her decision to join college to pursue music. It was a means to sublimate her unfulfilled desires.
“But you will not be at home when the children return”-protested Vibhor. “Yes, I will leave food on the table and Nidhi can be given an extra key to bring herself in. She returns before Sadhak -so it solves that problem”. “And the fee for your study”- persisted Vibhor? Bitterness rose in her breast to fall with the sharpness of her solution. “That will be taken care of by the tuitions. I can teach the priliminaries of music to small children and housewives.” “Oh! Other people in the house now”-exclaimed Sadhak and Nidhi together”. “Why not, our family will expand and you will learn to share”- announced Rama with a determined shake of her head. Vibhor resented her departure from the usual intensely. The resentment degenerated into possessive outbursts- creating a revolt in Ramas timid person.
Her heart went out of the routine household chores- and her body froze in bed. She had been used like an object -and nobody loved her.These were the people, for whom she had given her life. The children had begun to whine. Rama fell out of love with the creatures who were her family- with a silent pursing of her lips.
That evening, when Vibhor invited her out- she declined preferring to go for a silent solitary walk to make a new composition. Rama could hear the weeping of Vihbor’s spirit in the night that followed. Her own joints ached with the identification. She had strayed in the arms of her muse- to escape the trap of an empty relationship. But, how could she allow the roof to be plastered now? The leakage had enabled the clandestine tryst with her personal destiny. There was a difference in going to a man for love! She had not received anything in return for her giving of twenty years; to flawless propriety.
“Nothing doing for a month now “she announced- coloring the grey streak in her hair. “I have to prepare for the musical which the dean will watch with you all.”
Twenty one years old Satvik did not know that this wonderfully talented and mature woman was recreating herself in the love she bestowed on him. He was simply floored by her attention.Giving his voice to the lyrics entangled with the improvisations she was constantly making; in her own composition- was an enchanting experience of self to him. Each note solicited his being with a desperate tenderness. The effort at synchronization and the ensuing creation brought their soul together in a tight embrace of sheer joy. The look they shared when a piece fell in place, dissolved all distance of age and circumstance between them.
Perhaps Vibhor heard the real Rama through his creaking joints in the deafening applause which followed the show that evening. For he was suddenly afraid of loosing her. His Rama dissolved; and even their children could not recreate her in the image of their individual needs after that.
Within the precincts of that show a woman’s self reached actualization in the eyes of those who dared posses her. In the life of those- with whom the circumstances of her life had adapted -in a series of everyday events.

A 48 year old home maker with a passion for writing since childhood. She can be contacted at sonal.ghuwalewala@gmail.com