The fragrance of incense sticks floated through the house, adding a deeper feeling to the air it touched along the way.
Dushyant had helped himself with another spoonful of sleep and thus the eyes opened to a morning later than usual. The mind at once felt pleasant to the fragrance of the incense stick his paternal grandmother burnt during her prayers. Another smell invaded the room, food was being cooked in the next house, garlic and onion had been added to heated mustard oil.
Dushyant slowly woke up, freshened up before heading for breakfast. At the breakfast table sat Dushyant’s paternal grandfather Mr Omkar Narula. An empty plate with little crumbs of bread was on the table in front of Mr Narula who was busy tapping his finger on his tab, when he noticed Dushyant approaching.
“We need to go to the market immediately. There are certain items of house which are required for lunch,” said Mr Narula
Dushyant nodded as his grandmother brought to table two neatly triangularly cut pieces of sandwich on a plate and a glass of milk. Dushyant ate in silence; a part of his mind lost to the callings of the birds outside.
‘How peaceful yet ignored are certain elements of life which are easily within the reach of the immediate existence,’ thought Dushyant
After breakfast, Mr Narula picked up a grocery bag and also the umbrella which he had developed a habit of carrying. He handed another grocery bag, a smaller one to Dushyant and out they went from the door with Dushyant’s grandmother following to close the door but not before asking them to be careful.
Outside the road was narrow, only broad enough for a single small hatchback to pass through and anything else within that size. The neighbours smiled at the passing Dushyant and Mr Narula. Each and every one busy in doing one thing or the other, a part of the morning chores that they completed every morning.
After a two-minute walk, at the bend of the road was a pond. This was one of the things Dushyant loved the most about the neighbourhood that breathed around his paternal grandparent’s house in the village. There were fish in the pond as indicated by the small rising ripples on the surface of the water which disappeared almost immediately as they appeared.
Dushyant’s parents were greatly surprised when Dushyant one day announced he was going to live at his grandparent’s house in the village. Dushyant’s father thought that the village life was past them and the city is what Dushant would be hanging on to throughout his life.
“But why?” Dushyant’s father had asked
“The city life has stopped appealing to me. People rushing out with the burdens of ambitions and responsibilities, trying to reach for that better life they have known and heard so much about. It is not someone who is me,” said Dushyant which silenced his father
“But what will you do there?” asked Dushyant’s mother and that always is the primary question.
The movement of the legs, a step at a time, took Dushant and Mr Narula towards the market. On the way they stopped in front of the school. Outside on the board was written ‘Sishu Vidya Peeth’ (a centre of knowledge for children).
“When are you starting?” Mr Narula asked
“Wednesday, next week,” said Dushyant. He had applied for the post of Math teacher and had completed his B Ed from the village college to understand the life and people here better.
Mr and Mrs Narula’s happiness overflowed out from them and spread everywhere as neighbours had described. The happiness of their grandson’s decision was too much for them, something they had never imagined in a day and age where young people were increasingly leaving the country in search of the definition of better life they had in their minds.
“Do you want to get married?” asked Mr Narula, something his wife had told him to ask, almost a month ago
“I will, but not yet,” said Dushyant
Dushyant had a relationship, which had ended after Dushyant’s decision and Dushyant understood, he could ask but not force another to be part of this life. Some had blamed Dushyant for being selfish, but somewhere Dushyant strongly felt the need for it, mostly due to the fading simplicity of life in the city.
He lived and continues to live a happy life. A father of a son now. Many still don’t agree with his decision, but I don’t think I have seen many as happy and content as him, something I would definitely love to have in my life as well, after some time. quoted
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 
One response to “The Weight behind Decision”
Very nice.
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