Through the Window – My Window Friend
I still recall that fateful day when I was at work heading for a very important meeting or rather entangled in a very pressing professional assignment, but at the back of my mind Bhargava aunt, my friend, was being replayed again and again. I was frantically trying to connect with her and no response was making me extremely non focussed on my demanding professional commitment. Finally, I heard about Bhargava aunt and my nervous and restless soul was settled then and there.
I stay in Noida, a city in U.P and we choose to live in a condominium as we wanted a bigger, safer space with increased security and spacious accommodation with the expansion in my family members. We all choose to stay together with my ageing father-in-law, mother-in-law, husband and son and a very recent inclusion, a pet dog. Then, I was a home maker. I had quit my work and taken sabbatical to be around my family. Amongst the many responsibilities, which was considered negligible, there was something to look forward to my overall sense of being which is going to the nearby sprawling green park or a rather mini forest surrounded by exotic plants, trees, flowers, birds, squirrels. Shades of greens are a delightful sight. I would get absorbed in the sound of nature which would instantaneously condition my mind set.
The park served as my haven. It was full of people going about their daily lives, including joggers, walkers of all ages, the young and energetic working out to stay in shape and healthy, kids playing happily in the ground, parents petting them, squirrels squeaking happily, the singing of a contented cuckoo echoing in the park, the blooming of tender “bokul” flowers scattered on the ground, people crushing them over without thinking twice and generally oblivious of the damage done, the clear azure sky, the changing of the seasons bringing in a riot of colours, it is all an enchanting world out there. The unique bloom of “Kadam” and “Semul” flowers are so fascinating to see, the scent of the flora and fauna, nature in its spectacular form, ever evolving and mesmerising.
Typically, I am more drawn to the older folks as am largely curious about the rich tapestry of their lives and always wanted to uncover invaluable life stories, advice and personal insights from them. I would frequently get an incredible high and a deep sense of fulfilment when I would see them. It’s so interesting and inspiring to see their eagerness to improve their quality of life by merely becoming conscious of their emotional and physical needs. In the park, they can be clearly classified from a variety of angles. For example, some may be seen sitting and singing religious songs in groups, others may be seen praying silently while holding beads in their hands; still others may be seen in wheelchairs; yet others may be seen laughing boisterously in their own assemblies, few physically challenged ones would walk with a stick in the company of an assistive person in order to get his daily dose of drills; still others may be seen sitting and talking among themselves about any topic that excites them. My eyes would effortlessly spot them with lot of dignity, respect and gratitude.
Once back home, the routine labour would begin, which I would resume gladly as I derive certain joy in the mundane, however, with defined responsibilities as a wife, mother and daughter-in-law. Fatigue would take over and I would be in a hurry to finish the kitchen chores and retire for the day.
By and large, my apartment’s layout allows us to see from my kitchen to the kitchen of the people who live on the other side. When I turned on the kitchen lights as the daylight faded and darkness descended, I could make out these feeble senior couple: Bhargava uncle, who was maybe 80 years old, and Bhargava aunt, who was perhaps 75. Aunty would be in the kitchen, working at a slow pace and trying to finish the work.
Their independent and modest way of life was fascinating to observe. As time went on, the liking increased. I would frequently see a touching event, and I would instinctively keep my eyes focused on them. Uncle Bhargava would always be in close proximity to Aunt when she was in the kitchen, and the two of them would sit and converse. Distantly it was such interesting to see the love and respect that had gone through the hardest trials and survival.
Usually, when Aunt laughed loudly and heartily during their conversation, I would find myself chuckling too, and while preparing chapati, I would laugh and find myself entertained. I would raise my head to see if she could see me, but she was plainly unable to do so. I would then finish up my kitchen chores and turn down the lights and retire for the day.
My day begins with an already chalked out plan of managing and prioritising household chores. In an attempt to maintain a spotless and clutter-free environment, I would frequently embark on cleaning missions by myself with my maid, beginning with the kitchen window panes as asking my folks for assistance, took too much prodding. Somehow, my cleaning missions were visible to Bhargawa Aunt and Uncle from her apartment when I opened the window panes.
With the passage of time, a pattern developed, and eventually I started to look forward to seeing the lights on in the flat next door in the evening. She would come in, go about her work, and uncle would sit somewhere appropriate, talk, laugh aloud, and then turn out the lights and go to another room. And me completing my daily tasks and going to bed.
One evening, I was unable to see the lights on, and I would get bouts of fears inside and yearn for their well-being. Indeed, everything was well. Uncle and Aunt were spending time with their son. Once they arrived, the process began, the lights came on, and this time, I saw not just two people in the kitchen, but a complete group of people. It was a very joyful sight. The son had arrived to be with them, accompanied by his wife and two kids. What struck me was how the entire family was there in the kitchen to help each other, it was an endearing sight with conversations, music, kids interacting, the daughter-in-law preparing food, the son assisting with the meal, the uncle and aunt simply taking pleasure in the company of their guests.
I couldn’t help myself and called her phone over my intercom to first introduce myself and find out where she had been for a few days. I described in particular how I felt when I saw a gloomy flat without any lights, which somehow affected her emotionally. She was amazed to see someone showing concern for an older person. She would repeatedly bring up how much I would do for the family during our talk, pointing out how she would see me perform my demanding responsibilities. I requested her for her mobile number right away, and she kindly provided it to me. From then, I embarked on a new path filled with respect and despair. I made a friend Bhargava Aunt.
She had a joyful spirit. She would just simply open up and start talking. It dawned on me that she loved to talk, which was the exact reverse of my introverted tendency to be reserved around new people. I would watch and take some time to process before opening up. The vibration needs to correspond for me and feel valued too. I discovered at that point that I had friends of all ages—children are my absolute favourite—young adults, middle-aged people (usually between the ages of 30 and 70), and I was really enjoying this newfound friendship.
Then one day, the sad news of uncle’s passing was a jolt for all of us. When uncle unexpectedly passed away, her whole life fell apart. Aunt was left to be alone by life. She would take turns coming and going from her son’s house to this one.
Then Covid struck and we were forced to stay at home. Nevertheless, I would constantly check with her to reassure that I was available to help in any way, and she would always accept my help. Seeing her living there in that house by herself with no one else around naturally enveloped me in a sense of melancholy and despair. Throughout our chat sessions, she would discuss how lonely she feels. It used to astonish me to notice that she used to feel better just by our conversations. She would ultimately thank me, and I can clearly recall her saying, “Who takes interest in seniors these days? Everyone is so occupied with the rigmarole of life, no one has time to hear their stories.” Feeling the emotional interaction and calming her down used to give me such a great sense of happiness. Even though my efforts were tiny, I was able to accomplish this difficult task and feel a great sense of accomplishment by touching the heart of my friend Bhargava Aunt.
Thereon, she was rarely seen in the kitchen, and the thought of her living alone used to severely bother me. She would hardly ever appear on the balcony or open the window panes, and I would often wonder who was taking care of her medication, grocery shopping, bills, and general housework.
Then one day she said that she was moving to Bangalore to live with her son. I was overjoyed to learn that she would have excellent company all to herself. I thought it could be preferable to relocate in order to regain her enthusiasm for life. She was thrilled when I insisted that we communicate, and she not only made a commitment but also honoured it. I’ve somehow come to the conclusion over time that I can easily maintain long-distance relationships with folks who appreciate my presence in their lives. Thereon, we stayed in touch.
She responded to my eagerness to hear from her. In her communications, she would sound happy. By then, I had taken up a professional assignment, and my attention had shifted to obligations related to my career. The work was demanding, however, she took up a small corner of my thoughts. The respect for each other was mutual. Due to my professional obligations, I would often send her text messages to enquire about her well-being. She would respond, albeit slowly. It gave me a good feeling to know that she was doing good and well in the care of her family.
But all of a sudden, I noticed an odd change in her behaviour. However, what alarmed me was that, in sharp contrast to Aunt, a couple of messages were seen but received no response. I was becoming restless gradually, and ultimately there were multiple calls but no one was picking up. As my worry grew, I made every effort to contact her with what few resources I had. I kept thinking about her despite the tough office duties, which made me nervous and concerned because I wasn’t getting adequate answers to all of my questions and concerns.
In a frenzy of desperation, I texted the RWA estate manager to ask for her son’s number or any other alternative one day when I was at the peak of my workload and could not stand my friend’s silence. I managed to obtain her son’s number through and through, and I called it right away. I became more agitated when my calls went unanswered on multiple occasions.
After fulfilling my professional obligation for the day, it was time for me to return home. At this point, I was in a difficult situation, and the only thing that could make me feel better was a response from her son. However, I was enraged by the callousness of the person who had seen my messages but had not replied. which caused my unstable mental state to cause me to snap at my people.
Abhijit, my husband, makes great tea. In fact, he brews his tea with loads of warmth as soon as I arrive home, and we normally catch up on the day that was. His thoughtful gesture was comfortable back home particularly when I was especially tired emotionally from not hearing back from my friend, aunt Bhargava. The tea was a refreshing change to calm my mind which was full of thoughts.
Amidst our conversation, I saw a call from a number I didn’t recognise. Normally, such phone calls would be disregarded and not answered, but this time, there was no way to hang up. I picked up the phone to answer, and sure enough, her son was calling me back. I spoke more during our conversation because I had a lot to ask and learn about my friend’s wellbeing. I was dumbstruck. There was complete silence as I was informed of her demise. It was a devastating news. Even in my wildest thoughts, I could never have predicted the sequence of events.
Her son informed she was battling cancer. She fought through her sickness with remarkable strength. Oh, how devastated it made me feel that she never once brought up her illness, always too eager to live a balanced life. My anxious mind was calmed, and I prayed to God to keep her safe and secure while in his care.
I regret not having a photo of my close friend, but this intense emotional outburst suffices to keep me warm and connected. Her flat is still empty and dark, and I carry close to my heart the memories of my friend Aunt Bhargava, which will go on forever.
I read somewhere that “ Nothing you love is lost. Not really. Things, people – they always go away, sooner or later. You can’t hold them, any more than you can hold moonlight. But if they’ve touched you, if they are inside you, then they are still yours. The only things you ever really have are the ones you hold inside your heart “– Bruce Coville.
My story ends here and she continues to live in my heart forever, and ever.
Thank You.
