Minutes had passed and not a word was said, the ticking of the clock continued its relentless decay spoiling rich life, in this antique home, laced with velvet soft draperies of navy and burgundy with tassels ending to every corner of the wall and furniture.
I wonder what could have happened to my feeling of pride and confidence, to have been switched with the feeling of shame. The fact is I had no time to think about myself, only that becoming a burden and an unsuccessful wife to Hemen. My days and nights were passing in whirl and eddy of illusion and perpetual night with me at centre of the cataclysm that robbed my dear husband of bliss and contentment.
For Hemen I believe, I've left him in a faraway land, only the remnants of his voice travels to me comfortingly. The gap of my loss has left Hemen in hesitation or delicacy in conversation. Never do my ears hear him, not the way he truly was anyway. Those times I fear, are long gone with the lights in my life.
His aunts persist behind my back to get him married off again as though a woman such as I have no place in society or to be thrown away as garbage. They would say "it is the women of the household to know their place and know that she was only bringing tears to the man of the house, what shame to their society. They had made sure I had not missed this as they continued "What right had the women of the house to direct shafts straight at the young man's heart, destroying their future, life and wishes, better yet a new marriage will fulfil the man". They continued as they were turning to me. "I see you are adequate in giving the poor man a hellish existence Illeana, good you cannot see, as you cannot see the state of Hemen, if we only we knew before getting Hemen married, oh god, why have you forsaken our dear Hemen, with this worthless princess".
I may not be able to see, but I could feel their keen eye's looked me up and down, not feeling of colour of love that I so cherish, but a public toilet. They shamed me of my wear, my manors, my speech to no end. At one lifetime I could have retorted, but not a word had escaped me. I am ashamed of what I have become today. The poor man defends my honour and they shirk him off, as their victim is me.
It was ten in the morning when Shreya entered the D'Silver household. Come, please take a seat Shreya, asked Hemen. As he poured her a cup of tea for the three of them from the teapot. Shreya quietly did so, gently placing the notebook on her lap, comfortably seated on an oversized sofa, she was wearing a cream colour cardigan a teal colour dress underneath.
Ileana sat opposite Shreya similar smaller sofa, legs crossed, fingers knitted across her belly, her eye's seem scrunched a little, not focused at any spot, dim and lifeless. Her brow was furrowed, tense. But she remained quiet, what would seem to be in her own bubbling storm.
Shreya couldn't help but wonder how she should start the conversation. she'd summoned up the courage to come here, but the build-up of fear began to course through her. Her eye's shifted towards the door every few moments, in an attempt to make an escape. A quiet voice spoke out demisting her fogged fear filled head.
"Good Morning Shreya,.". whispered Illeana. Her accent sounded unfamiliar. It was quite pleasant to the ears. "how do you fair?" what felt like minutes later for the both of them Shreya mustered up a reply, "Well..., Thank you. How are you? Hemen walked back from the kitchen with plates of cinnamon swirls and settled them on the table.
"Please take Shreya, they are home-made. I did most of my food experiments here before putting them on the shelves of my cafe.
Illeana again speaks " I am well. I want to make things clear. I am on medication from deep depression. Please don't mind me if some times my temper or reaction gets the better of me. there are times that I may misunderstand quite terribly. so please have patients with me". Hemen head drooped, ever so slightly shaking his head.
Shreya a little more shaken. Ileana continued, "Some of the so called best people in the world are the do-nothing-talk-amazing types. usually that comes hand in hand with fence sitters who don't make real choices in there life and are usually those who pass judgment on others". Shreya was taken aback, Illeana's words felt like a call to action for Shreya, becoming a do'er or a fence sitter. Contemplating and judging others for there actions or take charge of your actions. A memory of meeting Arbaz atop the hill flittered as those thoughts passed.
Illeana got up, Hemen just appeared at her side. "please take us to the reading room". holding out her hand, Hemen cupped it in his and drew her away. Shreya followed behind.
Shreya led through a doorway to a tiny storage like room jammed full of books filled to the ceiling in shelves on either side. A small space at the back with pillows sat aligned. Both Shreya and Ileana settled down on the floor cushion under the window. It felt to Shreya she had sat at her guru's feet. Hemen left the women there and went to the kitchen to make a cool lemon sherbet.
Ileana speaks whisperingly; outside I'm barely able to move around, I feel so useless, but here, I can let go of the outside world, even from Hemen (her voice becoming shallow and fading away as she said his name). it's just freeing to be able to move around so freely without worrying about my condition. Here there are brail books of Indian epics and egyptian mythos as well as stories a japanese folk tales. I've been loving the writing of contemporary literary fiction like the book Lowlands. it's lovely how the author can make the reader so engrossed. I'll let you borrow a few, Hemen and I often read the same book. I really like the days where Hemen and myself talk all about books. its soo fun, she smiles to herself we often get into light arguments of our taste in the books. in the past, when me and Hemen would go shopping, we would usually end up in the book store, its funny, one moment we would look at clothes and then we would be infront of shelves full of books ordered alphabetically. Its almost like that with us, as if the book store is our dessert of the main course of shopping. Too be surrounded by books is very comforting Shreya, its as if reality doesn't exist, the smell of new books, and ink on the pages gives me tingles. Shreya sat listening, the room although made Ileana feel at comfort, but it was somewhat shy of claustrophobic for Shreya. Shreya takes out a pen and marks a series of books, music and dance performances, that Illeana is interested in. thinking about how she would imagine herself with Krishan, enjoying watching performances and reading books together like Illeana and Hemen. She secretly hoped for those days. I recognise a few of the authors and books that littered the shelves. studying the layout of bookshelf, bringing her back to her room in Jessore. She wrote down the arrangement of the books, which might come in handy when perusing and developing ideas.
Ileana "I like to choose a different author each time I come here to match my emotions. for the sadness, I feel drawn towards the classics, which I may read well past dinner, and for dull days, I go for the more comedic, and so on.., in that way my favourites are very much varied.
Shreya following along Illeana, but is beginning to feel anxious, although diligently she fills out the pages, and prepares to plan her agenda for the coming months.
I wonder if I look unprofessional, as I tail Ileana walking around the room. I make a note of the books that I may one day be allowed to borrow, but there's no way of knowing if I will be permanent, or whether she would actually allow me in the future, perhaps she won't like me in the future and prefer I left. Feelings of inadequacy drip-fed self-doubt and this heavy feeling drew me to want to go back home where it is safe from this unknown.
Illeana now facing me as if looking directly at me, paused and held out her hand. placing mine in hers she smiled " please come with me, as they went back into the living room, seated back on the comfortable seat. She felt out of breath, not realising shreya had been breathing heavily, beads of sweat trickling across her temple.
The Sherbet was a relieving sensation.
Ileana sat beside her this time, what a wonderful dress she was wearing. Shreya felt a slight envey and curiosity to what she may look like if she were to wear something similar, or something other than her sari.
"Do you know Shreya, it was my father who worked at a bookstore, and introduced me to the world of books he loved this world. My mother was never really interested, She preferred the sedentary style of a housewife, and never sought a life outside her house. One time when I was young my father would tell great stories, usually fantasies of knights in shining armour saving damsels in distress from the clutches of dragons". Illeana says animatedly.
To Shreya, it shed the anxiety almost instantly as they both laughed at Illeana imitating the boyish voice re-enacting the knight, gallivanting to whew the maiden, after slaying the dragon of course.
As Shreya, was about to depart, Heman beaming ear to ear calls to her, "I am extremely happy that you came today. Please come back tomorrow. It's wonderful to see Illeana so cheery".
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The Letters Written
RomanceAll is well for Shreya until her past is revealed... Shreya a young woman unhappily arrange married, as her father was against her marrying her love interest at the time. Although content with her married family, she feels like she is drowning on ju...
