Page 70 of That Same Old Love

And then she smiled. “I should probably buy a small apartment somewhere that would be more convenient for me. But the perks of my current house outweigh the convenience. My current house has better and faster access to a hot neighbor.”

“I’m very glad that you decided not to move,” he said gruffly and dragged her out from the kitchen to show her the bedrooms and then the family room. Mahi took in everything around her quietly.

In the family room, Mahi saw a huge laminated picture of Samrat with his late wife and daughter. His usually stern and serious expression was softened as he carried his daughter with one hand and wrapped his other arm around his wife’s waist. Samrat and his wife Nandini made a great couple.

Samrat’s wife was on the taller side like him, reaching almost until his ears and looked like a perfect foil with her classically beautiful features against his raw masculine ones. Their little girl looked like a budding beauty, who would have looked just like her mother had her young life not been cut short so abruptly.

“Samrat, I feel a little uncomfortable being in this house. I feel as though I’m poaching on another woman’s private property,” Mahi told him hesitantly.

He pulled her close. “No Mahi, you are not. If you had met my wife Nandini before, you would know that she was the most generous and kindhearted woman. A few years ago when Nandini and I were making our will after Sana was born, she had specifically told me that she wanted me to move on and be happyin my life, just in case anything untoward happened to her. I had told her that I would want the same for her too.”

Mahi nodded in understanding.

Samrat got out some of his family picture albums.

Sitting on a formal sofa next to him, Mahi was smiling while looking at his solo pictures. In the pictures, Samrat was scowling into the camera because his wife had apparently insisted that he needed mementos in form of his solo pictures at every famous monument or location they had visited.

After a while, Samrat began to slowly open up about his marriage.

“Nandini was my family friend’s daughter and I had met her a few times before too while growing up. But I didn’t really notice her since she was five years younger to me and we didn’t really move in the same children’s circles. I was more interested to look at girls my age or older.”

“The first time I saw Nandini’s grown up photo, I was bowled over by her looks and even more so when I met her in person. She grew up to be so beautiful that wherever she went; people would often stop to stare at her. And not just being beautiful on the outside, she also had the genuinely sweet and caring personality that made people around her love her.”

“But after a few months of my marriage… I realized that I wanted someone different. Someone who was more modern, and not innocent in a childlike way and someone who didn’t always need my guidance, or worship, or catered to me so much. Even though I hadn’t said a word to her, I think on some level she knew I wished her to be a different kind of wife. Each time Nandini tried to please me by trying to change or adapt more to my lifestyle, I felt guilty.”

He stared at his wife’s and daughter’s picture. “Nandini named our daughter Sana because it was a mixture of Samrat and Nandini. I tried to show her in every possible way that Iloved her and cared for her and gave her every comfort or luxury I could afford. But I think I was still a little distant with her.”

He sounded torn. Then he held Mahi’s hands and looked at their joined hands intently.

“That day… when the accident took place, I was supposed to be with them. I was supposed to go to a temple with Nandini and Sana. I bailed out because I had some pending work. I could have asked someone else to cover for me or postponed my work to a later date, but I didn’t. I wasn’t that keen to go to a temple. Nandini was the religious kind who went to a temple twice a week and made a twice a year trip to Srisailam.”

“Later that evening I got the call about the accident and the news that my wife and daughter had died instantly. I just—” he broke off, unable to continue.

Mahi moved closer to him and held him in her arms. She placed her head on his chest and rubbed his back, soothing him as he shuddered recalling his dark days after the accident.

“It’s not your fault Samrat. Accidents happen. And I can tell you for sure that your wife loved you and must have felt equally loved in return too. I have met warm and compassionate people like her before; they see good in everyone and everything, and are always happy in their lives. Nandini and Sana knew they were loved deeply by you. Let your guilt go and remember them during your happiest memories,” she said stroking his hair.

Mahi smiled sadly. “That’s what I do when I remember Aryan, I remember him hugging me close and saying,‘I love you the best in the whole wide world, mommy’, it is the sweetest memory I have of him,” she said, recalling her son with a smile.

They spent rest of the day watching his daughter’s pictures and regaling their children’s stories.

Later that night, she asked him about the project he was so involved with. “Why are you so invested in the gated seniorcommunity? I feel there is a more compelling reason than simply building a house for your parents.”

Samrat had taken her there several times over the weekends to check on how the construction was progressing.

“Do you remember Badrinath uncle from our neighborhood? He used to play character roles in Telugu movies,” he said.

“Sure. I remember him. I used to like him because he was pretty cool and spoke to the neighborhood children as though they were adults. He was never irritable or condescending towards us,” she said, remembering the kindly neighbor.

“Yes. That was him. He was one of my initial investors in my company who believed in me. My father couldn’t raise enough money even after we had sold most of our lands. The bank loans helped a little, but weren’t enough for the vision I had to start my own company. Badrinath uncle offered to invest and I readily accepted his offer. I was able to repay him with an interest in five years and had been always very grateful for his timely help,” said Samrat.

He intertwined his fingers with hers and stared at their hands, lost in deep thoughts or maybe memories.

“Badrinath uncle killed himself a couple of years ago. His children were fighting over his wealth and he had been feeling lonely and dejected in his old age. I had been travelling when the incident had happened and couldn’t digest the news. Whenever we had met, he always had a smile or a witty remark.

Most of our neighbors who lived with just their spouses told me that they felt lonely living in the city with nothing much to do. As do my parents whenever they visit the city sometimes for long periods of time.

I researched a little and liked what the west and other cities in India did with their seniors. Assisted living is still kind of a taboo here. But, if they had a reasonably priced homely setting where they could mingle and have social activities with their peersalong with dining facilities and emergency nursing facilities within a community, it would ease their loneliness somewhat.

---