Unraveled Yarn

(Response to June WEP entry at http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/)

““I will treat you like a flower”, he whispered in her ears as he closed her eyes and walked along few steps. 

“Now open your eyes.” 

“This is beautiful”, she answered. In front of them stood a beautiful red-bricked house, which he had architected. It had a small lawn in the front lined up with roses, jasmines, and lilies on the side. It was surrounded by a small, 3 feet high brick compound wall. On the right side was an overhead canopy, which could act as a shelter for a future car. The house was encompassed in a large area of empty residential plots. The nearest construction of a home was almost half a mile away. If one climbed up a tree, they could even see the Delhi Haryana border. 

He slowly slid the front door open, revealing a huge living room. She literally danced around the floor, squealing with laughter. She glided across the room to open the door to the backyard. 

“This, my dear is your kitchen garden.” Rows of vegetable sapling were nicely arranged in a row and grouped by category. On one side of the garden were bunches of the banana plant. 

Her happiness knew no bounds. She took a deep breath of fresh air. “This is like a dream.” 

He pulled her close, “We will make our dream come true here. We will...” “

You mean including a terrace garden and a library”, she intercepted smiling. 

“Haha, This is Delhi, dear. We need to start slow and then add one by one.” 

She touched his cheek, her face pale with concern, “We can afford this right?” 

He smiled lovingly, “Yes, we can. We just need to be careful with our spendings. Oh, there is something else I want you to see.” 

He took her into a room. There on the corner, right next to the window, was her wooden writing desk and chair her dad had gifted. She used to love working in that as a teenager. 

Tears rolled down her face as she touched the wooden surface. “Its like he will always be around”. 

“Yes”, he continued, “As I promised your dad, I will treat you like a flower.”, he said affectionately. 

“Mamma, Papa, Look what I did”, a cherubic 4-year-old boy rushed into the room excitedly. He hugged her in her knees as he looked up at her. 

“Come”, he continued pulling her saree. 

The child took them to a room where he had scribbled letter “A” in the nicely painted walls. They looked amazed at the wall and at his grinning face. 

They burst into laughter as he lifted the child up. “He will become a writer.”, she said. “Of Course not”, he responded. “He will be an engineer and build the world.”, he continued circling the child in the air as the child burst into squiggles of laughter.

                                                    ***** 

He opened the car door and held out his hand. “Be careful, ma.” 

She held his hand and got out of the car, watching out for the puddles. Two bikes zoomed past them and a cab brushed passed them almost ripping the car side mirrors. The sweeper was sweeping the road sending out dust clouds. She covered her face with the “pallu” of her saree, careful not to get into a coughing fit. 

The small black gate squeaked as he opened it. The red-bricked house was overpowered with tall buildings on all the sides. It remained dwarfed having the only greenery in the 50-mile range. As with any cosmopolitan city, Delhi was consumed by urban forest choking humans of fresh air. 

The front lawn, which once glorified of velvet grass was parched dry. He took her around the house. The kitchen garden was dry and flat. On the side was a big tree, swaying gently to the dusty breeze. It brushed the banana tree leaves every now and then. 

“Remember ma, the mango seed I planted with grandma”, he said. 

She smiled weekly, “Do you think papa..” 

She was interrupted by a car which stopped in front of the house. A gentleman got down dressed in a suit, contrasting to a hot Delhi weather. He shook his hands. 

“This is ma”, he said introducing his mother. 

The gentleman folded his hands and said “Namaste” respectfully. 

“Your dad was a man of high principles. He would have never let this happen.”, said the gentleman. 

He nodded and slid the front door open. It squeaked with lack of oil. He ushered them inside the house and put his arms around her as she stepped in. 

“There is nothing to inspect. I know your dad kept paid the taxes and kept documents properly.”, the gentleman said as he opened his briefcase. “The sale will be done quickly.” 

The gentleman took out a bunch of thick papers and went through them. “I need your signatures here and here”, he continued, spreading the papers on her writing desk and handing over a pen. 

She took the pen and signed the papers. Tears rolled down her cheek as she touched the wooden surface of the writing desk. 

He put his arms around her. “Don’t worry ma, I will treat you like a flower.”