The house trembled as the storms clouds amassed in the
horizon. Soon the doors and windows would creak and swing and the bricks and
mortar would loosen a bit more giving it a lopsided grin. The plaster had
cracked in several places leaving the walls with a patchwork of paint. It
feared that one day it would crumble to dust and then what would happen to
those who wandered in the empty rooms and balconies. Generations had lived
under its roof and they hadn’t totally broken the ties that had bound them
here.
In the last few years there had been people who had come to
look, wandered through the corridors, stood at the balconies that overlooked
the river but for some reason hadn’t returned. The house was abandoned but what
about those who still thought it was their home.
At last there was news, there were buyers but nobody could be
seen in and around. Would there be wrecking crews that would demolish and build
again? Would it arise from the rubble ?
Waiting was never easy and more so when age had left it decrepit and deserted.
They were all sitting around the table, sights trained on the
door. She had tried everybody’s patience and they could only hope that there
wouldn’t be the usual last minute change of heart. Selling estates that were
jointly owned could be a nightmare. Differences had been ironed out and the men
were ready to ink the deal except for the lady who was totally against the
sale. Fortunately Mallika had come around and there was an audible sigh of
relief from the lawyers and the representatives of the hospitality company as
she scrawled her signature.
Mallika choked on her tears, “This sale has meant the
irreplaceable loss of a home. In the
name of progress I hope that a modernistic steel and glass structure won’t
replace its old world charm.”
One of the buyers was quick to reassure her, “Give us some
time and you will be able to see for yourself the wonders that we can work. It
will be a small exclusive hotel, a week end retreat with well landscaped
gardens.”
“Don’t worry ma’am we are attentive about every small detail.
Our landscape expert was amazed that the jasmine plants have proved to be so
hardy in spite of being long neglected.
Traditionally these country places are named after flowers. There are
many jasmine bushes and we might feature it in the hotel’s name.”
True to the management’s promise the house had been
transformed in to a popular hotel. It wasn’t too far from the city and catered
to guests looking for a short break. Swayed by her friends’ gushing reports and
reviewers’ articles, Mallika decided to book a weekend’s stay.
Keen to make the visit memorable, Mallika called the hotel
personally. She asked for a particular room
that overlooked the river.
“Ma’am that room is always in great demand and I’ll try my
best to accommodate you.”
Mallika was insistent about the room that the family referred
to as Chameli’s room.
Mallika’s husband was pleased that his wife was not only
gifting him a short holiday but had also offered to drive them to their
destination.
As they started leaving the city behind Manav looked out, “Isn’t
this the way to Nayagunj? Didn’t you have some family property in that area?
“Have you been to Nayagunj before?”
“Been there before? I grew up there. My father worked in a
factory nearby. Was yours the big house near the river? If so the building was
already in disrepair and abandoned. Did you ever go there?”
Mallika kept quiet and Manav resumed his musings and chuckled
to himself. “The house was in ruins and wilderness had reclaimed the gardens. We
were teenagers and it was a safe spot to snatch some fun. It was a place to try
our first smoke, a puff of weed and a swig of cheap rum. It was an ideal place for
escapades. There was a floating population that lived in some of the rooms and
cultivated marijuana. We were careful not to trespass on their territory.”
“Weren’t you scared to enter this broken down mansion?”
“Stories were spun to keep out others from claiming a stake
in an unoccupied estate. Snakes were the invisible danger that could claim
lives. There was an old gardener who was mostly high on the marijuana he
cultivated. He believed that a wronged woman’s soul was trapped in the roots of
a jasmine bush and its flowers were omens of doom. I wonder if that plant is
still alive.
Amazing how people will believe in old wives tales of ghosts
and revenge but not in venomous snakes. It was your ancestral property but you
didn’t ever live there?”
“Yes I did but only for a night that changed my life forever.
My parents separated and I ended up as a
boarder in a distant residential school. Much later my mother told me that it
was one of the ancestral aunts who had warned her of my father’s infidelity. It
was on that night that the room had been flooded with an overpowering fragrance
of jasmine blooms.”
He shrugged his
shoulders and wondered why Mallika had not told him about this childhood
incident. In his opinion women tended to be more emotional and unforgiving
about minor indiscretions.
The curtains fluttered in the strong night breeze and Manav decided
to go out to the balcony to have a last smoke. Fleeting memories kept surfacing
and he stayed out longer than expected. A familiar fragrance filled the room as he
entered the room only to find Mallika asleep. Next morning a bright sun
splashed shadows and Manav turned to find that Mallika was no longer in bed. An
envelope with the hotel’s logo lay next to him and an overpowering perfume escaped
as he opened it.
“Manav”
Old wives tales are often true. I was warned by the wronged wife of
yesteryears.
The room was booked in
your name and so is the hotel bill.
Mallika
