Sail Through Styx - A SwaSan SS

Chapter two

The whispering lyre

The day will come 

When my body no longer exists,

But in the lines of this poem 

I will never let you be alone

The day will come 

When my voice is no longer heard

But within the words of this poem

I will continue to watch over you,

The day will come

When my dreams are no longer known,

But in the spaces found in the letters of this poem

I will never tire of looking for you

          - Sapardi Djoko Damono

Promises, promises worth thousand heart beats, of breaths I cannot begin to count, of dreams, of hopes; promises that he left behind. Baba drives us to the airport, Shermishta ma, only walking us to the gate. Both their faces has the identical crestfallen look about them, as if it is heart breaking to see us leaving, as if this was not the farewell they hoped for. But I look ahead resolvedly. There is someone waiting for me back in India, there are the promises that I intend to keep and a heart I cannot afford to break. There is no time to waste in Perth anymore.

It startles me, when we reach Himachal, and our old home, without a sign of Lakshya. I thought he would meet us at the airport, that dazzling grin curling his lips. There is so much I would like to tell him, stories of the time spent in separation. But still, he doesn't come, not until that week of January comes to a close.

Ma does not speak of him. There is a lot we talk about, everything under the sun, except the man who had once promised to wait for me. Doubts weigh my mind, until they are so tight around my throat that I cannot take it anymore.

One week. He is not there yet. 

Two weeks, he does not receive my calls either.

Three weeks. 

The February had rolled in. The snow decked mountains are arranging themselves to celebrate another Losar. I still remember my last one here, it had been the year of the water dragon. A year they said was auspicious for new beginnings and the year he proposed me. Now, there is no sign of him anymore and I had made my decision.

It is a sign of how time had distanced us that Ma doesn't hear of my Delhi trip until the night before. I see the way her eyes widen when I tell her, casually over the tea and snacks; that I have decided to visit Lakshya in his city. I was half expecting her to hold me back, for I sense there is something she knows of this entire fiasco that she doesn't wish to share with me. She doesn't say anything, as she sips her tea, her hand shaking slightly. 

"Okay," she says in the end her voice rasp. "I will come with you." Our discussion ends at that, she doesn't meet my eye until we reach our destination. 

It is a modest kind of old house, with a clean lawn and an old fashioned gate. I cannot recall Lakshya describing his house to me; if he had I would have loved the image. We wait for a moment, after pressing the door bell, and an older woman opens the door for us. 

"Namaste auntie ji," I tell her, as respectfully as my nervous mind would allow.

The woman eyes me critically and curiously as she returns my greeting. 

"Pardon me, I didn't recognize you," she says next.

"I'm a friend of Lakshya's," I choose to say, safely. "I haven't seen him in a long time."