The interstate bus shook on the broken road and that is how it had been for the past twenty minutes and although it did not become worse, the body and mind started to feel it more and Samar was beginning to tire out. He was sitting, stuffed in between two men with heavy structures, the one on the right clearly needed a few sprays of a strong perfume and the other kept going into deep sleep and falling on Samar, only for Samar to wake him up time and again.
There was a long waiting list for the train tickets so Samar did not even try, now he was thinking maybe he should have.
When Samar got down the bus at the destination, he could feel the pain of all forms over the body and took his time to feel the right state of mind. He took out his smartphone and had a talk with a man he was later supposed to meet.
Samar’s cloud kitchen business was not doing so well, but he still had hope but also debts. While looking for means to find more finance, Samar’s father remembered a property in a small remote town, maybe it could fetch the money Samar required. The property belonged to Samar’s grandfather and he had built it for his brother and his family back then, but sadly his brother passed away not long after and the family moved away. No one lived there at present and Samar’s father had the keys somewhere among his grandfather’s things. They found it.
Samar got online and looked for a property dealer there with decent ratings, had a long talk with him and now he was here after the most challenging bus ride of his life. He took an auto rickshaw to the location. It took some time to get to the house, the number on its number plate had faded. Samar took a photo and sent it to his father just to be sure. It was a two-floor building, built straight like one of those old buildings without a balcony. It was hard to figure out what paint it had; the building was clearly falling apart.
Samar took out the keys from his bag. Although he wanted the property dealer to be present when stepping in the house, bust just in case there was something of value in there. But there was no lock on the main door, no keyhole, it was closed from inside. Samar tried to push in, maybe the door was stuck, but it wouldn’t open. A man selling vegetables passed by looking with suspicion at Samar trying to get in the house.
Samar walked around and noticed the sideway on the right of the house. He went around and found a window open. He jumped and struggled a little to climb in, but he got in with a few light bruises but surprisingly no dust.
Samar looked around, the place seemed clean from within. The room he was in had a bed, the bedsheet was clean, so was the ceiling fan and the cupboard, there was even a book with bookmarks on the table. Someone was definitely living here, for a moment Samar felt he was in the wrong house but his father had looked at the photo and was sure this was it.
Samar walked out of the room quietly into the short passage that opened to a drawing room, keeping his ears open to any form of sound, it was silent. No sound of movement at all. The lights were working but not lit at the moment, the glow of scattered sunlight coming through the windows was the means of visibility. There was the smell of food having been cooked in the house.
Samar scanned the drawing room, clean, well kept, even had some decorations, photos of some people on the wall and a man drinking tea. Samar froze at the last observation. An old man probably in his seventies, mostly bald with few remaining grey hairs, wrinkled, slight shaking in movement of hand, eyes straining to see, wearing white vest and pyjamas. He was drinking tea and he was looking right at Samar. He showed no sign of aggression; he just kept drinking his tea.
“This house belongs to my late grandfather,” said Samar, still looking around if anyone else was there
The old man kept the cup on a coaster on the side table. Samar stayed silent waiting for a verbal response.
“So, you have come, finally,” said the old man in a shaking voice, he noticed Samar still looking around “It’s just me here, my daughters come by occasionally.”
“You were waiting for me?” asked Samar surprised
“Well, someone was going to come right? You did,” said the old man pointing to an empty chair and Samar sat down.
“I used to be a thief, no use hiding that at this age. Found this house abandoned, broke in to find something valuable. Came back again a few times. It took me a while to realise the house was forgotten, so I cleaned it out, brought in my wife and children, and told them it was mine. I didn’t steal anymore though, found honest work, paid the electrician to overlook a few things. Both my daughters got married in this house, my wife passed away here,” said the old man, some tears had made their presence.
Samar looked at the photos on the wall.
“They thought this house was ours, but I knew someone would come one day. In my mind it was never mine. I had planned for that meeting, the apologies, the request to not tell my family, the offer to buy the house, I ran it again and again in the imagination of my mind. I had honestly saved up for it, still have it. But at this point I certainly apologise for staying here without permission, but there is no use requesting to let me stay,” said the old man
Samar kept quiet for a while, he looked around, tried to imagine the memories of the life that had happened here and then looked at the old man “You said you still had the money.”
So, Samar sold the house to the old man and thus Samar had his money and the old man in his mind now truly owned the house.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 