The Aroma of Memories; English Short Story; Author: Deepak Budki; Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat

  The Aroma of Memories; English Short Story

 Author: Deepak Budki 

Translator: Jawahar Lal Bhat

Why the agony of unfulfilled dreams is incessantly annoying? I could never solve this riddle. I have been fortunate enough to get almost everything that I wished for in my life though I never longed for anything that could not be realized.

It was 1972. ‘Asia '72 Exhibition’ had started in Pragati Maidan, New Delhi. Those days I used to work in the Kashmir Government Arts Emporium and a stall of the Emporium had also been set up in the Exhibition. I and my friend Saleem, the manager of another retail outlet of the organization in Delhi invited me to attend the inauguration ceremony though we were not directly involved with the stall in any capacity. Pragati Maidan was decorated all over like a bride ready to be wedded soon. All the stalls were tastefully decorated. A number of good-looking girl guides had been deployed in each stall to welcome and conduct the guests. The stalls were thronged by large crowds such that everyone had to struggle for space. A few girl guides were posted in our stall too who received us cordially and in turn, we availed of the opportunity to introduce ourselves.

“Hello, I’m Saleem, Manager Connaught Place Branch of Kashmir Emporium.” Saleem addressed Sarah, one of the girl guides. He had actually been floored by her first look.

On the other hand, I was attracted towards a Maharashtrian girl. She was very pretty, pleasing and cheerful. I too introduced myself to her, “Hi... I’m Rajiv, Manager, Ashoka Hotel Branch of Kashmir Emporium.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Vandana," the Maharashtrian girl replied.

We exchanged pleasantries for some time till I grabbed an opportunity to invite her for a cup of coffee.

“Would you care to have a cup of coffee with me?”

“Not now, please! You see there is so much rush to be managed. We may go during lunchtime.” 

At the appointed time I took Vandana for a cup of coffee. Ashoka Hotel had established a stall which was quite at hand so I turned to enter there. Vandana was somewhat bemused and said, “Oh no, not this place. It’s a very expensive hotel. It is sheer craziness to go there. Do you see a railway bogie there? The railway department has converted it into a decent restaurant. You can get everything there--tea, coffee, snacks, breakfast, lunch, dinner whatever you want .”

We got into the Railway restaurant and I ordered coffee and some snacks. Meanwhile, we exchanged glances with each other and tried to fathom out what was going on in the other's mind. It was certainly a look of love. She told me all about herself and her family and I kept listening to her with rapt attention.

“My name is Vandana Narayan Kulkarni." She said, "I’m a Brahmin from Maharashtra and Pune is our ancestral place. We are settled in Coimbatore for last so many years. My father owns a textile factory there.”

“Oh I see, and what are you doing at present?”

“I’m a student of BA (Hons) in English Literature. Nowadays we have vacations in college. I intended to see Delhi, the exhibition was just an excuse.”

I also told her about myself that I had obtained degrees of Master's in Botany and Bachelor's in Education and was serving in the Emporium out of necessity. I was not satisfied with my current job and therefore was looking for a better job opportunity in Delhi Education Department.

In a very short time, we laid bare our hearts before each other. I was overcome with so much joy and excitement due to our meeting that while leaving the restaurant I forgot to collect my expensive Ronson lighter and Ray-Ban goggles which I had kept on the table.  Anyway, I convinced myself that such losses are immaterial when you encounter your first love. On the other hand, Saleem tried his best to entice Sarah but could move no further.

The exhibition continued for two months. I used to meet Vandana almost daily. We got very close in no time. I felt as if we were made for each other. We used to have lunch together at the Railway restaurant every day and kiss goodbye thereafter but neither of us expressed any feeling of love to the other. I thought there was no such need because our actions were more eloquent than our words. Incidentally, a few of my experienced friends suggested that I should take advantage of our closeness and try to have physical intimacy with her before it is too late. They said, "You will otherwise repent when she goes out of your hands." However, I found the suggestion absurd and instead brushed them aside. 

Once we went to spend our evening at a discotheque in Connaught Place. The hall was dark with glimmering lights. Young boys and girls were enjoying dancing gleefully on the floor with arms locked around each other. Since I was neither conversant with such an environment nor good at dancing so I took Vandana to a corner table and sat there. The ambience was so filled with romance that refraining from an adventure seemed almost impossible. The resonance of my friends' advice filled my ears many a time but I consciously withdrew from the thought of any indecent act and remained content with my lot. After about an hour and a half, we came out and I left Vandana at her residence.

Time always passes without a bang. Two months passed in a jiffy. The exhibition came to a close and Vandna was to leave the next day by GT Express. In the afternoon I took Vandana to the Standard Restaurant and placed an order for tea and snacks. In the meantime, she pressed herself close to me and rested her head on my shoulder. In a choked voice, she said, “During the past two months we came so close to each other as if we knew each other for ages.”

“There’s no doubt about that. I love your company and wish that this exhibition goes on and on and never comes to an end.”

“I want to ask you something, hope you don't t mind,” she said after gathering enough courage.

“What stops you from asking? You can ask anything. Why should I get annoyed? I find no reason.”

“Rajiv, how does one call the relation between two of us....?” her courage gave way so she left her question halfway.

“We are good friends, dear, and will continue to be like that.” I too hesitated to express myself truthfully. I wanted to tell her that I loved her passionately but found myself at a loss for appropriate words. It was pure unselfish love -- free from all lustful desire but I was unable to give voice to my feelings lest she would get annoyed. I did not want to hurt her in any way before her departure. Thus my forbearance cut short my cherished desires.

“But I love you from the core of my heart, dear Rajiv.” So saying she burst into tears. Weeping bitterly she hid her face against my chest.

I did not know how to calm her down. I caressed her hair, stroked her face gently and kissed her passionately but she did not anyway tranquillize. Then I addressed her, “Vandana, I love you too from the depths of my heart, love that you would never imagine. I didn’t give expression to my love for you because I was afraid it might annoy you. We have been good friends and I didn’t want our friendship to end abruptly should you not like my words. You did well by opening your heart before leaving. I feel so much more relaxed.”

“But dear, my problem is different and much more complicated. I don’t find any way out of that.”

“Why don’t you tell me, I may be of some help.”

“Dear Rajiv," she paused for a while and then continued, "My parents are typical orthodox Maharashtrian Brahmins. They are strictly traditional, uncompromising and conservative. They won't agree to my marriage outside my own caste.”

I immediately recalled a number of instances where reactionary elements had issued diktats and warned many couples of dire consequences including death. Her disclosure was heart-rending for me. Strange thoughts flooded my mind. The ball was in my court now. One such thought prompted me to go for a civil marriage early in the morning on the following day but immediately I drew back because I did not want to smear her or her family's prestige in any way. Then I thought it would be better to approach Vandana’s parents and try to convince them instead.

After a lot of mental agonies I declared my intention, “Vandana, you are returning home tomorrow. Whenever you find an occasion, talk to your parents. As for me I am an atheist and do not believe in discrimination on the basis of caste or faith. I believe they should not have any objection to our marriage because I too am born in a Kashmir Pandit family who are regarded as high caste Brahmins in the north.”

“You do not know my parents, dear. They will consent to my marriage only with a Maharashtra Brahmin, no one else.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no harm in trying. You should not lose heart before you make an effort. I am sure something positive will come out of your sincere efforts.”

“Alright, I will definitely make an effort after I reach my home and inform you of the result. Be in regular touch with me, Rajiv. Do not forget me.”

“I won't forget you all my life. Nobody can replace you in my heart.”

The next day at the New Delhi railway station,  she suddenly spotted me in the maddening crowd while she was waiting for the GT Express to depart. I could find a strange quiver on her face. We talked to each other God knows what. The train was about to leave when she hurriedly presented me with a small gift. It was a novel written by Ayn Rand, ‘The Fountainhead’. She knew I was a fan of hers. On its first page were written the following words, "To my love, Rajiv-- With request not to forget me ever -- Yours and yours only –- Vandana’.  The note was followed by her signature and postal address.

For three months nothing was heard from her. With every passing hour, my anxiety about her increased. Every moment I recalled the days I spent with her, tears would roll down my eyes. What a gratifying time was that! Now my life had turned extremely miserable. I was feeling restless all through.

One fine day, taking a bold step, I wrote a letter to her and sent it by registered post. There was a lull for many days which kept me on tenterhooks all the time. Then got a reply which was both heartening as also heart-breaking. It informed me about her welfare and simultaneously about the rejection of the proposal by her father. All her repeated efforts had failed to convince her parents. My letter had also gone into their hands and they had not liked it. So now there was no question of any further communication.

I experienced a major storm blowing inside my heart almost shaking my whole existence. The words of my friends--"You will otherwise repent when she goes out of your hands"--kept repeatedly hammering my eardrums. I was tormented by many contradictory thoughts pertaining to our relationship. Did she truly love me?... Did she break off the relationship under compulsion or was it all stage managed?... Was she a flirt who just passed her time with me as my friends apprehended? I could never find an answer to any of these questions but all the same, I was more than convinced that we loved each other passionately and that was it.

Sometimes I think that the consolation that can be derived from living in the world of fantasy is far more gratifying than the world of reality. Today, after the passage of four decades, I find immense solace in recalling those nostalgic memories. Vandana could not be part of me but I still fondly cherish her memories and preserve the gifted book and the letter written by her. The very sight of these is consoling. Whenever I feel depressed in my life I take out the book from my library and read a few passages from it or go through her letter over and over again with my moist eyes. They rejuvenate me. Even today I imagine she is around me and both of us are singing that eternal song of the Indian film 'Pakeezah' on the stairs of Pragati Vihar Exhibition grounds –"Chalo dildar chalo, chand kay paar chalo, Hum hen tayaar chalo" (Come my darling, let us fly away far from this petty world and go beyond that beautiful moon.....Yes my beloved, come along, I am waiting for you, I am ready). I always feel her sitting close to me by my side hoping that we will someday fly away to that far-off world where love, devotion and sincerity reign supreme and there are no distractions and deceptions.

*****