Books and a Poem

The letters and words jumbled up again. The more she strained her eyes at it, the more blurry it got. Her head spun.

"Try again... Can you really not...?" He asked in a slowly dying out voice.

"No. It's... It's all jumbling and blurring. I can't understand-"

"It's okay, I'll read it to you." He tried to gather a comforting smile, but visibly failed at it.

Taking the book from Sindhuja, he shifted to sit by her side, resting his back against the headboard.

He turned to see her face had wilted down. She was looking into nothing clutching the book, eyes threatening tears. He quickly put an arm from behind to her shoulder, shaking it."Hey, Rosogolla. Come on!"

Her gaze was still fixed away."I can't even read now."

"It's temporary, darling! Don't lose heart like this..."

She turned to him and bore her sharp, black eyes into his like daggers. Clearly, he was lying; and clearly, she knew it.

He averted his gaze to her hand taking the book, and cleared his throat. "Anyways; page 36, right? I'll start from here..."

His arm that was on her shoulder soon lowered and snaked around her to reach the other end of the book, holding it properly. She too sank into him as the reading went on, resting her throbbing head in the crook of his neck.

He read for a few minutes, until he could feel her breath slow down against his chest.

"Rosogolla?"

She didn't reply. Sighing, he closed the book shut and carefully kept it aside without moving much. However, she shifted a little and put an arm across his stomach to the side. He locked his own arms around her and tenderly kissed on her nose, to which she shifted a bit again only to mumble something while curling up more into his warmth.

He held her tighter, as if that would stop her slowly slipping away from him. Resting his cheek on her head, he looked upwards and blinked several times to stop his eyes from watering.

He read her something every night, before she slept. So that she slept. This time, it was a book about poems. They took their usual position against the headboard and he started to read it out to her.

"...This poem, for example, with its touching as well as heart-wrenching lyrics, was adapted into an equally melodious and delicate rendition in Raag Nand by Madan Mohan and soulfully sung by Lata Ji; which later became the theme song as well as title of the famous Bollywood film Mera Saaya (1966) starring Sunil Dutt and Sadhana...

The song appears as a motif representing the voice of the hero's wife who dies a mysterious death in his arms. He listens to the song recorded in her voice, as a way to delve into their memories together and to feel her presence around. The wording goes as follows:

Wherever you go, remember that my shadow will be with you.

Whenever you shed tears in my memory,my hands will come and wipe them away.In whichever direction you face, remember that my shadow will be with you.

Should you ever become sad, I will take part in that sorrow.Whether you see me or not, I will always be by your side.No matter where you are going, remember that my shadow will be with you.

Should fate ever separate us, never mourn on my behalf.Never moisten your eyes with tears in memory of my love.Whenever you turn back to look for me, remember that my shadow will be with you.

My sorrow has always been in your sorrow.My love has been with you in every life.In whichever birth you take, remember that my shadow will be with you.

Wherever you go, remember that my shadow will be with you..."

There was a grey, eerie silence eating up the room.

Sighing, he slammed the book shut. "You really enjoy such sadistic stuff? I'm sick of this book already."

She was looking into nothing, eyes glistening. "It's a beautiful song. We listened to-"

He seized the opportunity to try and lighten the mood. "Yes, we listened to it and we also watched the film. An extremely illogical plotline and I figured out the ending just eight minutes into it, minus four minutes of the unrelated opening song. Not to mention that both the lead actors looked ridiculously old for their characters. Come on now, this poem stuff is getting nowhere..." He declared tossing the book away.

"It's not just poems." She said boring her eyes into his. "Stop avoiding the topic."

His put on his defending expressions and shrugged. "What now? You know I'm not a fan of this modern Hindi-film art. We can find a better book is all I'm saying."

"I'm not talking about that. You know well."

"I know nothing. And by the way, I'm feeling really sleepy now-" He started clearing off the bed to sleep, but she held his arm in a firm grip to stop him.

"Mitter babu, avoiding it is not going to help. We both know."

"Sindhu we need to sleep. You have the new doctor's appointment tomorrow morning, remember?"

She stopped. "What new doctor? Dr Batra?"

"Yes. The one from Delhi. Did you forget?"

"He's... He's very expensive Mitter babu! How much is he charging?"

"What do you have to do with that?!" He said a little irritated.

"Stop this unnecessary spending! What rampage are you on, throwing money at any doctor's place that comes along? How much have you already spent on these visits and medicines; do you even have any savings left?"

"That's none of your business; I'll se what to do."

"How is it not? I'm you're wife!"

"And how is spending on your treatment unnecessary Sindhuja? You're my wife!" His voice had risen up. "You do not need to meddle around in matters of money, and we're not having this stupid conversation again. Am I clear?"

She tried to protest. "But you-"

"Am I clear Sindhuja Mitter?" He scolded.

She fell silent.

He sighed and got up turning the lights off.

"Sleep. Good night."