SIDDARTHA AND ME.

It was a cold morning of December and the trees also seemed to be shivering. They sky seemed to be angry with the ground as it fiercely spread greyness, instead of cheerfulness in the environment. The clouds were able to block the warm rays of the sun. I tried to shield my face from the harsh and the cold breeze as it blew across my face. Dad turned the key of the car and turned the headlights on. His eyes were filled with a great hope and happiness on my tenacity. I watched the car coming to life with a quiet whine. I was putting my shoes on and watching him assiduously put my luggage inside the car. Grey trousers covered my legs, and a thick muffler covered my neck. The chilly weather was benumbing my nose and it was almost hard to breathe. As I finished up dressing my feet, I heard footsteps making its way to me.  I turned around. It was mom standing. I stood up. “Call me every single hour” mom said as she hugged me tight, and I could feel the warmth transferring to my body, making it the most comfortable hug ever.

I used to daydream about being a quality circle leader and venturing around the world speaking in front of big mass of people having their eyes on mine and their ears in my voice. My gestures being their strength to be their air to breath for that transitory moment. This passion of mine slowly led me to dare this trip to India, with four of my friends representing my school and other few groups from the other schools. Together we were representing the whole nation. It was a matter of pride for my parents to hear the wonderful news of my selection among the thousands, but at the same moment, they did not want me to leave for India as it was going to be me with bunch of strangers travelling to a totally unknown city. And the worst of all, it was my freshman year and I was just 13, while my other friends were in their fifteens.

I still compare those perplex moments with the life of Siddhartha Gautama. He was forbidden to see the truth-the reality of pain, senility, diseases. As a prince, he was only allowed to be inside the palace and not leave it at all. But the trials fail, and his acquisitiveness succeeded. He started having a thirst for the knowledge, wisdom and wanted to know everything about the external world. He wanted to create an ocean of knowledge to fulfill his thirsts and to avoid the curiosity that had been killing him lately. He wanted to flee away from “the inside” and enjoy “the outside”. Same was what I wanted to do but unfortunately, I was not able to exhaust my mother for letting me go. I don’t completely blame her for it because that year, India had a severe crime rate, terrorist attacks, and stuff. People though it was ridiculous to go to Lucknow, a highly populated city, in a time like that. Additionally, the transportation was not by air, we had to reach their by train, which had increased the risks of our being there. Also, one more thing to fear about rose in mom’s heart.

“13^th year of your birth is not an age to let you go outside of your country” she had said when I first asked her if she would sign the slip which my school had asked her to sign if she wanted me to participate in the competition “I would rather take you to a vacation instead of letting you go away”. Anxiety would take over most of the part of my body and leave me gone mad. “No mom, I will be fine, I am going with my friends not all by myself and our principal is going with us too” I had said, though I knew these words would be futile to exhaust her. Still, I would beg her to sign the slip, with tears sprung in my eyes. Dad was happy to let me go and signed the slip immediately but mom was hesitating to. I used to fill goosebumps every time I asked her to do it, because her harsh reply would break me down.

Dad asked me to get in the car. I was staring outside and suddenly heard the beautiful notes escaping from the CD to my ears and made the air melodic. Dad never allowed me to listen to music when he drove but this time, surprisingly he did. “So proud of my daughter,” he said to mother as I waved to her. Mom could not go since my brother had school that day and she had to drop him off. I wanted her to be with me too. It was just about a week we were about to be separated but it felt like ages.

“I bet you know about Siddhartha don’t you?” he asked smiling as he began to hold the steering. I looked at his face. The confidence in my being there had not died in his eyes. Happiness was still glistening in his eyes, making it hard to fake a sadness. “Yes” I said, smiling at him once again. “He left his home at such a young age to be one of the Samanas, so determined for his aim. He did not let anyone’s fear have a control over him, did he?”

I knew what he meant to say. Don’t listen to mom and have a control over fear. Acquisitiveness should win everything. Some part of my heart was filled with confidence but still some of it was glutted with nervousness.

Siddhartha was strong with his decision, he stood boldly over the decision and exhausted his father to let him leave. He persuaded himself to sacrifice the luxurious life that he had been living. He quitted every single desire a common man cannot deny. He went to the woods for peace, for meditation and for enlightenment which he believed he would be able to erase the thirst of his knowledge. In the journey of his enlightenment, he came across Gautama Buddha. Since he believed that he could not be taught, Siddhartha did not become a student of him, though he was pleased with the wisdom that Gautama Buddha had.

Yes, I had to be bold with my decision of my going, I had to be confident in it. I understood it from his question and smile printed on his face. The smile filled with encouragement and hope. “Yeah” I said him trying to assure him that I would be happy and confident with my decision.

We reached to the station and I could easily spot my friends standing excited as their parents stand by them, waiting for us to departure. They were all happy and confidence glistened in their eyes.

I looked at dad again. He was supple-limbed, and his muscles were tough enough to carry all those luggages to the train by himself. I noticed him pulling it out of the car, as his muscles and jaws tightened I wanted to help him but I could not be strong enough strain my bruised hands. I just watched him do it.

Minutes passed. My nose was still cold and almost numb. The teachers started re-covering the cartoons with the help of a plastic bags as it had all the materials we needed. My dad looked at me and slowly whispered into my ears.

“I believe in my daughter. She is the strongest of the strongest and the bravest of the bravest”

He ended up grazing through my hair and patting my shoulders. I smiled back and thanked for his encouraging compliment. He tugged me in his warm arms once more and kissed my forehead blessing me.

An announcement was made to make everyone aware that the departing time had come. Hearing to it, it felt like it was an invitation for death or a dreadful adventure. Nervousness attacked my shoulders and made me feel queasy. By the time, tears had started rolling down my cheeks and my tongue was able to taste the saltiness of it.

I walked to my seat as the siren roared. I tried to peek through the well shielded glass and waved a goodbye to him. The gambling of people and the annoying sound produced by their vocal cord seemed to be killing me. I took a long and a deep breath, trying to release the tension created in my body. I looked around. Everything around seemed to be up-to-date, except my confidence.

I had to learn something from Siddhartha. Though I was excited and confident over my trip few weeks ago, unexpectedly the day had made me nervous. Siddhartha never regretted about his decision of being one of the ascetics and venturing the woods. He found his way out from the haze though he had to struggle and face a lot of consequences. He had to suffer and numb his basic needs. Even it occurred for him to leave his friend, he did it. He abandoned the luxuries he got after he had started working as a merchant after he realized that the thing that he had been doing recently was wrong. After all of his sacrifices, he got the enlightenment and the happiness he had been looking for. Although it did not last for a very long time, he did not have to curse his own life for making an awful decision. What if I had to regret my decision of going to India? I thought, hoping it would not happen.

But it was too late, too late to do something...

The flowers blossomed in front of her, the afternoon light tried to catch her attention and the ocean’s wave moved swiftly towards the land, but all she only noticed his dark lashes and his dark brows, as if it stood as everything to her. As if nothing around mattered.

When John noticed her blue eyes, he could also not give up staring at her for a long time, you could say those blue eyes were drug to him. Her blonde hair and tanned skin were nothing more than his dream come true.

After sipping a bit of coffee, John stretched his hands towards Sara’s waistline. That warm hand just relieved Sara, and she felt as if those arms were always going to stay by her side as if he would change the plan of going to be a recruit for the war, as if her beauty would be strong enough to persuade him to stay. The facade of her face glowed with happiness but that hopeful feeling of him retracing his decision.

“Are you still going?” Sara managed to ask. Then she realized that she had not wanted that bothersome event to distract them from their romantic date. Oh no. she almost muttered. Softly.

Pause. There was a moment of silence.

This silence scared her again. Sara’s heart then started to thump really hard, because her mind was already starting to anticipate the answer. “Yes.”

But some part of her heart, that little tiny portion of that beating muscle repeatedly expected an “NO”. The resounding No beat in her heart, but her mind asked to persuade herself with the truth.

John swallowed. Sara could see he lump going through his throat and she could notice the tightening of his jaws. She could see him clenching his fist as if he was about to punch something.

Maybe because of anger. Maybe because of disappointment.

But then she took a deep breath and released the tension. He tried to calm himself down.

“Sara,” he whispered, and turned towards her. He let go of his hand from her waistline and then cupped her face with them. “I wish I could but…, I know I’ll be back and everything will be fine.”

But all she heard was “No”

“I will never return back.” was what she heard.

She took his hands and then placed it to the bump in her stomach as if she were trying to make him realize something.

He kneeled before her and then kissed her bump on her stomach.

“I will be there soon son,” he said, “slash daughter.” He chuckled

Sara smiled, hoping it would be true.

January fifteenth. That was it. That was the day he was supposed to leave, with a bag of hope of survival and a chest of courage, a mindset with the misery of abandonment of his 18-year-old wife.

 Married at the age of nineteen, just after some dark hair had started lining up over his lips, was the thing he felt proud of. The early you marry, the most pride you collect, the more the wife’s beauty, the more the men’s pride, the more the children, the more the courageous this was what people of Greyhound would think.

After the sun thought to shine at the other part of that world and though of giving Greyhound some time with the moon, Sara stood up and walked in from the balcony of their house, into her room. Her Husband was still laying on the garden and Sara did not want him to get disturbed. As soon as she reached to the closet she reached for a diary, a diary with torn pages, a diary with paper so cuprous that it seemed like it was from ages ago. In the title, it wrote:  Guide to make him stay.

Her eyes fluttered for a while and then she walked to the door. She pushed it and locked herself in it. And she turned where she had left off yesterday.

After she finished the twentieth chapter, she felt exhausted. She closed the book and stood up for a while and walked around the room for a while. By her looks, it seemed that she was not satisfied with what she read. She probably read some tough lines that tore her heart apart and tossed her feelings.

Was it really just because of the war he is leaving? She pondered. Was it really?

A year later….

“Dark clouds are covering almost every part of the blue sky,” she wrote down on a piece of paper that was aimlessly lying beside her. Then she looked at those gray clouds that looked like lingering dark cotton candies in the sky. She then touched the cold window pane with her fingertips and as soon as she let go of it, it started raining.

It started raining as if the clouds were so angry at each other that once they had collided, did not wait a second to burst into drops of water. Her eyes were fixed outside for a minute or two and then her right hand pulled the drawer near her closet, and her fingers held a photo of John.

She took it and it in her heart.

“I know you did not mean to,” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks “it was not your will, and I am not disappointed, not even a little bit.”

The lump in her throat ached hard, harder than anything and that was when she realized that she had to stop crying. Then a gust of confidence hit her body and she woke up from her bed.

She rushed to the wooden closet near her bed and opened it. Jack’s clothes were hung from the hanger and inside of the locker of the closet laid a picture of their marriage.

She kept staring at it for a while but then she realized that she needed to find out where her husband was.

Today was the day it turned exactly one year after he had left, and he had yet not been back. No letters, nothing, as if he were just lost, vanished or even dead.

Until now Sara did not take it as a negative sign, she had forced herself to think that it was because he did not have time to write any letters, or communicate. But now, her faith was fading, some part of her mind began scorching the truth, and her mentality started to change. Of course, why would not it change? One cannot live without the truth being revealed for a longer time.

“Hey! There you are,” Anna said with excitement. Anna had been visiting Sara for about two months after she came to the awareness of Sara’s depression. “Want to go for a ride?”

Sara thought for a second, and she rushed to her bed, closed her diary and left the pen between the pages she was reading as if it were a bookmark. Then she took a deep breath releasing the tension of her body and stood up.

“Sure,” she said.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked, noticing the gloomy look on Sara’s face.

“No,” she said and took a deep breath again. “Hey, Can you ask your husband if your husband can drive us to Mantlett? Please.”

Anna looked at her as if Sara were complete nuts. “Wait ,wait, where did that come from,” she asked “Oh! Hold on is that where John is at? But why would you want to go there, you have this little baby to take care of!”

And in a stroke of lighting, Sara burst into tears.

“Because,” she screeched. “ I can’t live like this anymore, it has been a year, I don’t know what is going on with John, it has been a year, no letters, nothing, no e-mails, I do not even know if he is still alive, I need to get there Anna, even if it is just for this kid’s sake, please do ask him!”

That response was enough to persuade Anna with the reason, so she did not hesitate to assiduously prepare a nice answer for her.

“I don’t know if he would be free but I can make him drive us,” she said, she was not sure of what she was speaking, but she could not stay away from helping Sara. “Though I doubt we could go there”

(Five days later when they manage to reach there)

“I just feel so unsecured,” Sara said, trying to forget where she was. She tried to forget the reception and hoped she would be taken back to her home, in an instant. For one second, her baby cried from Anna’s hands but that did not matter at that moment.  Nothing mattered except John.

“John Adams, he is in this campaign right?”

“Um. let me look up” the lady with formal wear and glasses told her as if she did not remember it at all, “But may I first know who you are, madam?”

“I am his wife, Sara,” she said “Sara Penelope”

“Sara,” she said surprisingly “I.. I think I have heard about you before”

“Me?” Sara was surprised too. “How? I don’t know you”

“Well,” she said, “If I were you, I would go to my parents and live there and-”

“Wait. What do you mean? Where is John, I need to see him”

“Honey-”

“No, tell me where John is “she ordered.

“No. I cannot let you in”

“I don’t need your permission,” she said and ran towards the entrance to the building. Of course, the lady had no right to stop her so she could definitely not protest. But seeing Sara’s feet moving faster and faster, she seemed to get worried. She did not tell Sara that she was using the wrong entrance to enter the building and that it would lead her to the beach.

She walked and walked until the door came closer and she finally held it open.

When she saw out there, she could hardly believe it, but she had to trust her sight more than her heart.

By the river, in that pitch sunset, was a girl in a dress standing, facing the other side of the river. A tall guy with dark hair, muscles, and strong hand, he had his hand around her waistline, so softly as if he thought she was so delicate it would break her. 

Then suddenly a thud was heard from behind them, from nowhere, and the two couples looked towards Sara. Then, Sara looked towards them and Sara felt like her world just collapsed at the sight and her eyes right away.

It was John. John Adams.

When his eyes met her gaze, he left the girl and ran towards Sara. But by then, it was too late.

Too late to do something.

Fighting Remembrance

Through the cracked window pane, I look outside to the dark-blue sky. There are no stars shining, neither the moon is there, but once in every minute, a slice of light breaks through the cloud, followed by its huge roar.

“Ahem” I hear a low pitched male voice, “you were lost for a long time, what was wrong with you?”

It has been long since I had last stared outside, long since I started my job, long since mother has been gone. A blurry image of mother hits my heart, then I turn around to see who is speaking to me.

Father. It is father.

Relief warms my heart for a second. I even manage to see who is standing by him, hoping it is mother, but then, as if my heart is being sliced with a sharp edged knife, I realize she is not with him.

“Honey,” he says, stepping towards me, and I start noticing the diamond ring on the fourth finger of his left hand still shining “Is there something I can help you with?”

Yes please, bring mother back  is what I want to yell, sobbing hard hugging him is what I want to do, ask him to ask the lord to help me see my mother one last time is what I want to admit.

“The window pane is cracked” I say instead, realizing the bitter truth “I think we need to replace it.”