It was around 11:30, the sunlight partially but adequately lit the open staircase of the apartment building. The elevator still remained out of order even after a week.
Two children ran down, one of them held a bat in hand. An hour and a half later, a delivery person hurried up and a few moments later hurried down. Then twenty four minutes later came the sound of the door closing, quite forcefully. The sound travelled from downwards, right from one of the ground floor apartments.
Bhuvi first walked to the elevator which she found was still not working, then she decided to take the stairs, and she climbed with the hurriedness that comes out of a quick but potent anger.
Mrs Dhumal opened the door and smiled at Bhuvi who showed no intention of smiling back.
“We have had this conversation before. I don’t think it’s working out,” said Bhuvi, with no restrain on the loudness or anger
“Why don’t you come in?” said Mrs Dhumal while looking around if anyone was overhearing
“I am not coming in. You are going to give me a permanent solution,” said Bhuvi
“Come inside please, we can talk comfortably there,” said Mrs Dhumal, the smile becoming a hard task to keep up
“Where is he? Call him,” said Bhuvi
“He is not at home. I will explain it to him; I am very sorry”
Meanwhile Mr Grover hurried down with a travel bag, he tried to greet Bhuvi and Mrs Dhumal but Bhuvi’s words interrupted him.
“That is what I would like to hear, what will you explain to him this time, that you haven’t the last 4-5 times?”
Mrs Dhumal looked at a puzzled Mr Grover, who gave a quick nod of greeting and went on his way.
“Please calm down Bhuvi. I will have a serious talk with him. This will be the last time, I apologise on behalf of him,” said a pleading Mrs Dhumal
Bhuvi knew Mrs Dhumal had a kind nature but also a weak one. She doubted whether the message would be conveyed. Bhumi didn’t say anything further and walked away, on the way down she came across the boy who was returning home with his bat, he tried to rush up but Bhuvi caught hold of him and pulled the bat out of his hold and continued on her way down the stairs. She would return it, but maybe after a few days.
Before entering her apartment, Bhuvi walked out and looked at the hood of the car, where she could still see the mark from the ball hitting it in the morning. She gave it a thought and returned.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 