The Heart is heavy – it needs an explanation. It needs to be understood, hence it stands with drooping shoulders and yet a resilient spirit. It looks over her shoulder and gazes at life, at each character that has played either a fleeting or an enduring role in her journey and calls them all for an audience. As the summoned characters, who till now, have been chattering and laughing in the foyer, slowly come in and settle into the plush comfortable recliners within this beautiful candle-lit oval shaped temple, the sanctum sanctorum of her musings, the heart looks at them all. Her lips shape into a smile but a closer look would reveal eyes adorned with sadness and nostalgia.
Calling one and all to attention, she begins her speech. My friends, family, strangers and lovers, I am grateful to you all for responding to my short notice and for coming here promptly at my behest. It is indeed good to see you all assembled here in this temple I call home, so that I could look at you again, reminisce life and make sense of my fading memories. As I look around this august assembly, I know some of you are wondering why you are even here and look at me with strange eyes – especially those of you in the last rows. You sneaked in shyly and took the back seats and have been looking away most of the time. I know you have forgotten me; it has indeed been a long time. But I remember you all, each one of you, those precious moments that we shared are still vivid and float around me all the time. Others of you especially in the first rows only know me too well, or so you think. Especially those of you in the first row, you with your loud laughs and boisterous talks, feel you know me the most. You came in and took these seats without permission, because you felt that they belonged to you. After all, you say, we have known her all her life. We are indeed the central characters of her life and maybe even the co-lead characters. If she were to write a book about her life, an autobiography, our names and dialogues would spill out of every page. Yes, my dear ones, you have been around me all my life. You have been there with me through sickness and health, hard times and sorrow and I am indeed grateful to you for the different roles you have played in my life and causing the plot of my story to progress. And rightly, if this assembly was gathering in any of the public auditoriums in the city, with the whole world watching, yes, you would be in these very central seats and my talk would be about you and all that you mean. But in this sanctum sanctorum, in this pearl shaped candle-lit room, perched within a curled-lotus, blossoming out in the middle of a serene magical lake suspended between heaven and earth, where inner thoughts and ideas and their expressions are for none to see, except to those I reveal, where the unwritten yet truly lived script of my story is clear as day and yet deeply layered, I have to confess, your roles take a different shade. You were with me always, but the question is – did you know me? You always wanted to help, to protect, to correct and to make me successful – but in the process you missed meeting me and I grew old in your shadows. While you turned your heads, I grew strong and tall. You are familiar with me, but sadly, you don’t have much of a clue about me. I can see the look of scorn on your faces, even as I talk, I can hear the words forming in your mouths – What mad ramblings are these? Is she not our sister? Have we not known her all her life? Are we not her family? Did we not share the same home?
The heart gets excited and jumps to her feet, she pulls the mike to her face and cries into it, ok fine, you think you know me, well that is good, let’s take your word for it. Now, let me ask you a question, a small test if I may so, please. A little test will settle this and this august assembly will know truth from false. Tell me, she cries, tell me, my central characters, I beg thee, tell me, what are my dreams? The first row turns to one another with quizzical eyes. Seeing them turn to one another, she says, ok, if that is too hard, tell me, I pray, tell me, what things bring me pleasure? And if that is too tough, can you at least tell me, what are some things that bring tears to my eyes? Seeing their puzzlement only increase, she cries even louder, ok, ok, ladies and gentlemen, just as I suspected, you have no clue, you didn’t even know these questions existed and never did you think that dreams and tears were important to me. Ok, but please, don’t let me totally down. Please, you do know something – don’t you? Please prove me right – can you please put me to some ease and tell me that you do know a little about me, tell me, I ask, what is my favourite colour? Or, which is my favourite room in the house? Come on all of you, my central characters, you who lived with me all my life – you do know something about me!
The heavy heart grew heavier, and could scarcely stand any longer. The burden of their ignorance drained her energy. Till now, I have been watching this show bemused from a distance, but now seeing the heart’s fragility and anguish I quickly rush up to her and gently settle her into her chair; I squeeze her shoulders, and pour her a drink.
After a long meditative sip, she looks around. The front row had suddenly gone very quiet. There was a sense of uneasiness in the air. She cleared her throat and looks beyond towards the last rows, and says, you mister, you, in the blue pull-over, yes you, would you kindly come forward. The man in question, squirmed in his seat, and further lowered his already slouched shoulders and tried to hide his remarkably handsome face even as the entire assembly turns over their shoulders, trying to get a glimpse of him. But the heart wouldn’t give up. She continued to look at him and went on – do you remember me at all? You have aged and I can see time’s handiwork on your face, but he has only chiselled you with beauty and grace. You are wondering where we have met and how that you were even invited to this meeting. You don’t recognise me and it is not your fault. You saw me before time began his work on me and now I am disguised by time and you don’t remember me at all. But I remember you rather vividly. I don’t want to embarrass you but if you don’t mind I must tell this story. Many years ago, we met just once, but you left a part of yourself with me. The man was pure attention now, but he had the most amused look which seemed to say, me, are you kidding, are you really referring to me, you definitely must be mistaken, I don’t even know you. As if the heart had heard his thoughts she replied, yes sir you, yes indeed, I am talking about you.
It was a dark morning of a day and the rain was pouring profusely. We were in Abu Road Market, most of those in the first row and me, just round the corner from where we lived. I had dragged my family with me to a bicycle shop to coax them to buy me my first dream. We have been talking about this for months and today was my birthday and they had promised that I would get it today. I was just eleven years old. As we rush-crossed the road to enter the shop, I saw you standing outside under the shop shades, protecting yourself from the pouring of the merciless rain. You had the same bemused look and watched us through the window, as we lived out our parts in the event within the shop. I showed my family the bicycle I had been eying for many weeks. However, even without a proper look, they demanded to know the price. It seemed that they had already made up their minds. Even before a proper bargaining-conversation could be started, they started leaving the shop, claiming that it was a complete rip off. I refused to go home and I cried and screamed right outside the shop. One by one the family left, but I refused to go. Soaking in the rain, I stood my ground, I wanted my dream and I was not ready to let go of it. I stood there outside the bicycle-store, my face hot and cold – tears and rain mixing freely, drenching me. I felt a tap on my shoulders and even as I looked up, you were standing next to me, in the rain. You didn’t say a word; just took my hand and walked me back into the store, and the next thing I realised was you sitting me on that red bike and even as I pedalled past, I saw you waving, your smile lighting the dark morning. That was many decades ago, but it left a deep impression on my young mind. You, a complete stranger in some cosmic connection, had understood my young dream. You not only believed in it, but you were also willing to become a part of it at an expense that I was too young to understand. That gloomy rainy day was my brightest ever. All through my life, when I am faced with gloomy wet days, when I am alone, when I feel defeated, when I have been let down, I remember your kind face and your smile, your belief in me and draw my strength for that day.
Her tears flowed freely, and she looked around the room. The first row had their heads down and eyes fleeting. As she looked around the room, there were many more characters, many more who were bravely looking up at her now, with faint recognition lighting their eyes. Many from the last rows, who had believed in her, loved her and made a lonely night warm. She smiled at them, maybe they may never get their names in the public script of her story, but they were the ones who had kept her story going. They were her story.
