Like any other weekend of the year I was all dizzy and struggling to get up from my bed. I could feel the sun by it’s reflection on the shattered curtains. Slithering like a 🐌 snail (a fat one) I made my way to the kitchen.
I was more of a dramatic ass. For me, my life was a continuous rolling film. Like there were some invisible cameras 📷 held over my head all the time, shooting every shade of me. So maintaining the illusion I went to the window and moved the curtains allowing the light to fill the darkness just like some actor.
My house was in the east karnataka. A place full of peace and coconut tress. Behind those trees there was just sand and water wetting its edges. Cool breezes and hot coffee was such a great combination. I was still sipping from my cup when I saw them.
A walking old man in his mid 60s and a woman in her early 60s sitting on the wheel chair.
The couple was punjabi. It’s hard to find punjabi’s here. Nevermind. The man had white long moustache and beard. He was in white kurta pyjama with lavender turbun tied on his head and spectacles on his nose. Pushing the wheel chair slowly, putting small steps with great force. The woman was sitting quietly with both her hands on the thighs in a beige coloured suit salwar with dupatta covering her head completely exposing just her face. She was carrying a very calm and peaceful expression on her face. Although her eyes looked dead even from that distance. It appeared like she had nothing do with surrounding or with the man. On the other hand, the pain of the man was pretty clear by his doddering hands. By the force he was putting in making her wife move and embrace the beauty of life. He was looking straight on the path like he was searching for something. HOPE might be.
This went for about 2 months. Watching them having a morning walk, made my Sunday’s thoughtful.
My curiosity turned into need and I decided to talk. The couple was living in a healthcare center near my house which was popular for his natural treatments. I went there in the evening. The asharm was full of ailed oldies. The staff was wearing white shirt and pants with their names engraved on the badges. I approached a staff boy who was plucking heena leaves. After few minutes of empty talks I finally came on the point. Describing the whole situation and appearance of the pair I asked him about their problem.
The woman was suffering from Alzheimer. Her condition was critical and hope of survival was zero. According to the doctors she would die anyday. She haven’t spoke a word from last nine months and that is when they decided to join their asram in the hope, that natural treatments might heal her or improve her condition. But nothing worked. Still the man takes her wife out for a walk on sundays with a hope that maybe nature could make her speak and she’ll remember him. Take his name and ask him to take her home to their family.
Two weeks later..
I was standing by the window waiting for them to come. It’s been half an hour and the coffee mug was empty by now. They didn’t come.
Another week passed and their was still no sign so I decided to give another visit to the ashram.
The woman passed away on Friday they said and the man left with her. He wanted to take her to their house for the last time and perform all the rituals there.
It’s been three years since they left. But today also on every sunday morning I remove the curtains in their memory.
Romance is not hugging or kissing eachother or to get expensive gifts. Romance is to fulfill all the promises which one makes at the time of union. Caring and cherishing each others good and bad irrespective of the age and period of togetherness is ROMANCE ♥