A Living Memory

The day had started with a bright sunshine but suddenly the westerly wind blew hard. The tree branches began to sway vigorously, creating a loud rustling noise. The dark clouds began to move in and soon covered the sun. In a few minutes, the place became dark. The wind blew even harder. Tushar said, “Look, a big storm is coming. Let’s go in.”

 “No, Tushar,” Runu said.  “I don’t want to move now. Let the wind take us together and we will disappear in the storm.”

They remained there, ignoring the strong wind and the flying dirt. The big drops of rain began to splash on the ground and on the step where they were sitting, holding each other tightly. Then, they quickly got up and rushed inside the temple.

Inside there was a dark black stone-statue of Kali wearing a skirt of human hands and a garland of human skulls spread over her bare breast. She held a curved sword in one hand and a human head on the other. Her deep red tongue drooped down. She was standing on her husband Shiva, the manifestation of the entire universe. Kali represented eternity, creation and destruction; the entire cosmic cycle. She was the embodiment of birth and death.

As the dark cloud covered the sky, nothing was visible inside the temple, except the occasional spark of light that came through the window cracks as lightning hit the ground. That momentary light from outside flashed over Kali, shining her white eyeballs and the drooping red tongue.

A few feet away Runu and Tushar stood still, facing the deity. Were they praying for the rain to stop or to continue it forever? An untold consciousness flowed in the darkness through their hearts. They remained silent, eyes open, trying to focus on each other, though invisible in the total darkness.

They shivered at the sound of rats criss-crossing the room and climbing up the wall to a shelf where rice and beans were stored. They moved closer to each other. They felt the warmth of their breath while the wind and the rain were ravaging outside. Runu raised her hand and rested it on Tushar’s shoulder. Tushar embraced her, pressing her against him. Their lips touched. They gradually sat down and then laid on the cold dusty floor, ignoring the crawling insects and the rats shuttling from corner to corner.

As the rain diminished, they stood at the door watching the trailing rain and diminishing wind. On the ground, near the front step, the rainwater flowed like a stream. The sky was beginning to get clear; the sunlight diffused through the cloud making outside brighter. The trees became visible; their branches were swaying, creating a murmuring sound of the leaves. The fresh and mild aroma of the wet ground filled the air. They held each other with their arms wrapped around the waists.

When the rain totally stopped, Runu moved away and raised the strap of her bra back to the shoulder. While wrapping her sari neatly around her waist and laying it over her chest, she asked, “Tushar, are you telling me the truth? Nothing happened?”

Tushar said, “yes, I promise, you’ll be all right.”

“I love you, Tushar, but I cannot afford to be let down again.”

Tushar stayed quiet and kept his eyes fixed on hers.