The Stalkers

THE STALKERS

Based on a true story

“Ajar Thoughts” Short Stories Collection (To be published)

The alarm rang again. She had put it on snooze twice before it rang again determinedly, as if warning her that she was going to be late.

It was the beginning of a gruelling six-day schedule, week after week, month after month, year after year. It seemed mindless but that according to her was the only good thing about it. It didn’t give her time to think.

She went to the kitchen, set both the flames on the gas stove up. Lunch tiffin for herself and her seven-year-old daughter. She laid a big vessel of water on the other flame for the daughter’s bath. She looked at the time and went back to the bedroom. She half lifted, half dragged her child to the wash basin and propping her against it, reached up to the shelf above. She pushed the toothbrush to the sleepy kid and rushed back to the kitchen. She held the hot water container with a napkin and carried it to the bathroom, calling out to her daughter to get the cold tap water running onto the bucket.

She quickly poured a handful of cornflakes into the glass of milk as there was no time for a proper breakfast.

Most of days were uneventful except for some, when it turned argumentative, especially when the daughter was on the verge of missing the school bus.

On some days she took a brisk walk around the area before coming back home to get ready for office.

A bus ride to the nearest railway station. Bracing herself to plunge into the train in the peak hours, managing to hang on for a couple of stations before being herded out, trapped between the alighting crowd. Everyday was a race to beat the office punch-in clock, as she slowed down a bit to negotiate the treacherous railway bridge stairs which led to the east and west exits. She remembered the rainy season, seven years ago and a couple of years after marriage. She had twisted her ankle and had broken her leg on the same stairs.  It took almost a month for her to limp back to normalcy.

She preferred the twenty-minute walk to office for two reasons. One was that the rickshaws were never available. The other was that she saved on the money everyday and could buy something for home.

She walked briskly as always with her eyes straight ahead on the road as it thinned, the farther she got away from the main thoroughfare. Finally, she entered the shortcut lane which led directly to her office. The lane was residential and also had a municipal school but was always deserted and lonely when she walked on it, to and fro.

The same thought occurred as soon as she entered the lane. It had been happening since almost a week, day after day and she prepared herself for it. She could see the old man walking towards her, his eyes fixed on her with intent, smiling at her as if saying that he was interested in her.

The lane was straight till it ended and she could see him from quite afar. She decided to cross the lane, today, and walk from the opposite side. He seemed to be in his late 70s, short, frail, silver haired and slowed down by age. She walked fast and could see him approach her. She glanced out of curiosity and saw him that his eyes were constantly on her and he was smiling at her as they passed each other.

She increased her speed and didn’t look back till she reached the gates of her office building.

She remembered herself to being a friendly young woman, at ease with friends and strangers alike. But the city was changing.

The stalkers were everywhere. Peeping into your homes, waiting on the streets, touching and groping undercover in the crowds. The garage workers catcalling and passing lewd messages as she passed it every day.

She remembered being stalked before on the same lane.  The car that followed her every day until it stopped one day. The young man pulled the windows down and asked her if he could drop her to her office. She confided in her husband that night and he suggested that she file a complaint with the local police.

She smiled as she remembered glaring at the driver, launching into a loud tirade and the driver speeding away in flight, scared shit. He was never seen on that lane again.

Now. This old man. He was getting to her nerves and she began thinking of alternative routes. But the detour could add another ten minutes to her already long trek. She entered the lane again on yet another day and her heart skipped in anticipation. She had heard of all kinds of people in the human trafficking trade. She had dreams of being abducted, landing in unknown towns and being pushed into forced labour.

She saw the old man approaching her but surprisingly he was accompanied by a woman. She slowed down as she studied the couple approaching her. The woman seemed as old as the man, hunched at the back, carrying the burden of her seventy odd years. They looked like going to the temple as she spotted the old lady carrying a thali of pooja articles. She could see the old man prodding the woman as he neared them. The old woman raised her hand, as if asking to stop. They were smiling at her continuously.

“We see you every day. Do you go to work from here?”

“Yes”, she replied tentatively.

“I see you from our balcony every day. I like everything about you. Your looks. Your simplicity. The way you walk without looking here and there,” she continued.

“What’s your name?”

“Prabha.” She promised not to give any further details to them.

The husband was silent throughout the conversation and listened silently to his wife.

“He was afraid to talk to you. I was not well for a few days. Today, he told me while leaving home that I have to talk to you.”

Mr. and Mrs Mistry stayed in a spacious three-bedroom house with their son, daughter in law and a ten-year-old grandson. Mr. Mistry had a business which he handed over to his son on retiring.

The meetings became regular. A quick exchange of words while going to office. They began meeting in the evenings too. Prabha was surprised to know that they didn’t like Sundays because they couldn’t see her. She was touched when she was told that they were worried if she stayed away from office for more than a day. Mistry Aunty began sharing everything with her. They spoke about their son and their daughter in law and when she complained about them, Uncle admonished her for burdening Prabha unnecessarily. “So, what?” she replied. “Prabha is my daughter too. Prabha smiled but she was still not convinced. She promised not to share anything personal with them as yet.

Once or twice she walked them till the market while on her way home but because of their slow pace, turned late to pick up her daughter from the day care centre. So now, she cut her conversations short and promised to keep in touch. Phone numbers were exchanged just in case they didn’t see her for a couple of days and felt the need to enquire.

Now she knew the balcony. As expected, Aunty was always there to greet her. Her regular invitations were always turned down by Prabha with one pretext or the other. There was a new demand now. They wanted her photograph. Prabha promised them but was not inclined to share her picture with them. Not yet.

One day Uncle stopped her on the lane and asked his grandson to click a picture of them together. Prabha politely refused saying that she will get a pic tomorrow. “I know you will not give.” Addressing his grandson, he said, “Click her alone then.” Prabha relented, exasperatedly, and finally they had her pic.

Marriage, motherhood and circumstances had taken a toll in one decade. She kept to her own, hiding herself from the cynical world and remembering the happy days she spent with her large family. She didn’t realise when she gradually began enjoying the small moments with the old couple now.

“Now we have your photograph. Whenever we miss you, we will look at your picture and console ourselves,” said Aunty with a mysterious smile. Prabha smiled back, nodding in agreement. She had a lot of questions to ask. But she didn’t have the time.

They began noticing a lot of things too.

“You have lost weight. Are you keeping well?”

“You seem sad. Is everything okay?”

Prabha too began enquiring now. “Are you taking your medicines regularly?”

On Uncle’s complaint that she ate last and sometimes went hungry too when there were no leftovers. “Aunty. Promise me that you will eat regularly. Tell me now if you need anything.”

One more day and Prabha looked forward to the balcony now. Surprisingly no one was there on the balcony today. Prabha walked by assuming that they might be travelling. Their daughter lived somewhere nearby her house. They had promised her that they will come home the next time they came visiting their daughter.

One more day and no sign of either Uncle or Aunty. Prabha reached office and was busy at work when her cell phone rang. “Uncle Mistry,” she read and answered the phone.

“Prabha.”

“Where are you both?” she exclaimed.

“Prabha.”

“Yes. Uncle.”

“Aunty is no more.”

“What?” Prabha stood up in disbelief.

“She passed away in the morning.”

The rest of the conversation was blurred as she stood there shocked.

“Please come home.”

Tears rolled down her eyes as she sat down slowly in her chair. Her colleague saw her crying and was alarmed.

Prabha recounted the entire story to her, right from the beginning, which ended with the phone call she received now.

It was the colleague’s turn to be shocked now. She was silent for a long moment. “This seems so unreal,” she said rubbing her hands in disbelief.

Prabha walked back slowly from office towards the balcony. She saw Uncle standing there. He looked like he was waiting for her. Prabha looked up and denoted that she was coming up. Uncle didn’t react and went back in.

Prabha walked gingerly up the stairs. The stairs leading to the house was old and dim lighted. Prabha reached what seemed like the door to the house but couldn’t go any further. Fear overtook and she fled back downstairs and away from the house with her heart and brain spinning in confusion.

The next day as she walked by, there was nobody on the balcony. She had to pay her last respects and Prabha promised herself to go meet Uncle while on her way back.

She entered the building for the second time in as many days and mustered all her courage to ring the bell. The door was opened by a young woman who turned out to be the daughter in law of the house.

“Uncle,” Prabha enquired.

She pointed towards the last room and went into the kitchen.

Prabha passed all the rooms and entered the last room. The only room with the balcony.

Uncle was sitting all alone looking at the garlanded portrait of Aunty.

He saw her coming and said, ”Come Prabha.” He pointed towards the portrait.

Prabha bowed with folded hands and looked at Aunty fondly. Her eyes seemed to smile back and she couldn’t hold the tears.

“Uncle looked at both of them and said emotionally. “It all happened suddenly. She was in a lot of pain last night. In spite of the pain, she was calling for you repeatedly. She wanted to speak to you about something urgently. I told her it was very late in the night and promised to call you first thing in the morning. But she passed away before I could call you.”

Prabha felt like she was an outsider, like the audience watching the movie. Uncle didn’t ask her why she didn’t come home yesterday even after climbing the stairs. None of her questions were answered as yet. She decided to wait and let Uncle return to normalcy.

Uncle’s daughter called Prabha for the fourth day ceremony. “Please come. Mom will be very happy,” she said. As if all of them knew. Except for her.

Prabha came closer to Uncle. He was most affected by the loss. His only companion and support system. He was ignoring his health and Prabha pleaded with him to take care of himself. She even asked her grandson to call her whenever needed.

The first time Uncle visited her home was when they were away for the holidays. He had left a note with the watchman saying, “Hi Prabha. Came home but you were away. See you soon.”

It was on a Sunday that he called again saying that he was at his daughter’s house and wanted to meet her. He added that his daughter asked him to go later but he said he couldn’t wait.

Prabha welcomed him as a daughter would. He was not hungry but Prabha served him a plate of hot pav bhaji and he relished it. He spoke to her in hushed tones about Aunt’s gold and jewellery weighing almost thirty tolas. He didn’t want to give it to his children and was asking for her advice. She noticed later that he was clutching on to his bag very possessively.

The husband hid himself in the newspaper because he thought walking away might seem rude. Prabha was confused and dragged him into the conversation.

“Uncle’s talking about Aunt’s gold. I told him to speak to his children and consult with them.”

Uncle Mistry was looking at her and avoiding looking at her husband sitting next to him on the sofa.

“I think, he should consult a lawyer or speak to his family,” the husband spoke. “In the meantime, he can keep all of it in a bank locker.” He was also finding it very strange to preside over something they were never a part of. They didn’t even exist, except maybe for the last three, four months.

Uncle Mistry was quiet for a long time and then he decided to leave. She asked him how he was planning to travel. He told her not to worry and that he will take a rickshaw home.

She met Uncle regularly on her way and was happy that he was his normal self. Time seemed to have healed his wounds. He informed her that he had put all the gold and jewellery safely in a bank locker as per her advice.

One more day and Prabha walked towards the balcony. Surprisingly no one was there on the balcony today.

One more day and no sign of Uncle. Prabha promised herself to call him.

It was 7.30 in the morning and they were both waiting for school bus to arrive. The phone rang as soon as the bus arrived. Prabha glanced at the unknown number and let it ring as she waved at her daughter inside the bus.

She turned back home when the phone rang again. It was the same number again.

“Hello Prabha?”

“Yes”

“I am Mistry Uncle’s grandson speaking.”

Prabha saw it coming.

“He had a severe attack early in the morning. He passed away even before the doctors could arrive.”

“Even in that pain, he remembered to instruct his family to call you immediately if something happened to him.”

Prabha walked back slowly towards the stonemade seat built on the foyer of the building. She sat and wept unabashedly.

All the questions will remain unanswered forever.