Srini landed in Dubai,
spent a couple of days touring around, staying in a hotel and seeing the desert
on a conducted tour. He then flew to Nairobi, Kenya. He knew absolutely no one
there. He had never been there before.
He stayed at a hotel near a park. He had befriended the taxi driver who
had driven him from the airport. He got his phone number to arrange for him to
drive him around for a couple of days. Srini had never been in Africa and it
was a dream from his childhood to visit that continent. He slept in late, had
breakfast at the hotel and wandered over to park nearby. He sat down on a
bench. There were some people walking around, some children playing a little
ways away from his bench. He could see and hear them. As he was lost in observing them, he missed
seeing a largish lady coming up the path with her a young boy, who put down a
bag next Srini’s bench, shouted something at the lady and bounded off to meet
up with the children playing in the distance.
“May I sit down next to you
if this seat is not taken?” asked the lady with a very heavy typical local
accent.
Srini’s attention came back
to his immediate surroundings, he looked a little puzzled, but recovered his
wits quickly.
“Of course! Of course you
may! Sorry I did not realise anyone else might come up,” said Srini shifting to
one end of the bench and making room for the lady to sit down comfortably with
some space still between them.
She was a
well-built woman whose age he could not tell exactly but she did appear over
40. Looking at her proportions, it appeared that God was in a generous mood
when he created her. She had on a dress of a multi-coloured, beautiful flower
pattern, well-groomed hair and bunch of large rings on her fingers. She wore a few necklaces too that were elegant
even though they stood out and captured the attention of people. They flowed
down the contours of her open neck and front, coming up almost to her belly.
She exuded a strong but pleasant fragrance that must have been a local perfume.
She wore a pair of quiet, worn, but well-maintained shoes. At her side on her
arm was a big bag that was too large to be a handbag. She set it down next to
her as she sat down with practised ease, brushing down the back of her dress
against her body with a downward sweeping motion of her free arm. Srini, who
normally was not very observant of such details, surprised himself that he
noted all these things in the woman. She sat down with her bag against the arm
rest of the bench and leaned against it slightly as she turned herself around
slightly, facing Srini.
“Good morning! Nice day to
be out in the park,” she said.
“Good morning!” Srini
replied and stopped quickly as he realised she was continuing to speak.
“My grandson always plays with his friends on
Saturday mornings. I bring him here every weekend. I have never seen you
around. Are you new around here?” asked the lady in a friendly, but softly
booming voice.
“Yes, I am. I came in
yesterday. I have never been here before,” said Srini.
“Well, you certainly do not
look like his or anyone’s grandmother to me,” Srini thought to himself. One
could never tell with some women, especially from some cultures, age reading
was a difficult and dangerous art.
“Well, I hope you enjoy
Nairobi and have good time,” she said with polite friendliness.
“Thank you! I hope I am not
occupying the seat that someone else usually does. Am I? Are you expecting any
other regulars to come by?” asked Srini, “I can move on to another bench, if
that is the case.”
“No, No! You sit right
there as long as you want. Normally, no one else comes here at this time.
Sometimes they do, but they can just as well find another place, you came here
first today,” said the lady in her easy, friendly manner, patting the seat of
the bench.
“Ok, thank you!” replied
Srini. They both sat quietly without speaking for a few minutes while the lady
pulled out things from the bag she was carrying, rearranged somethings, put
them back and pulled her grandson’s bag closer to her. She picked up some
craftwork that seemed like pattern weaving by hand. She went to work, busily.
Srini scanned the trees around
him and saw the birds on the branches and flying around. He looked at the sky,
the shouts of the children playing in the distance. He felt comfortable,
totally at home, in a completely foreign country, among total strangers. He had
never had time to observe himself like this. In the past, every time he had
been to a new place, it was usually with a purpose – either on business or on a
tour. He seemed to have no other goal now than to just be there and enjoy his
existence.
Soon, an irregular stream
of people walked past Srini’s bench.
Some wore formal business suits, some were in casual attire. Some walked
alone, some in groups, talking animatedly. Some nodded greetings towards Srini
and the lady, some were too busy. There were a bunch of languages he heard – he
could identify some English, some French, even some German and Arabic. There
were many that he could not. He was lost in it as he suddenly realised that
there seemed to be some music playing in the background - someone was singing
or humming, but no instruments were playing. He turned towards the lady next to
him since it came from her direction, close by.
The lady had some long,
coloured pins in clasped between her lips. She was softly humming and singing
as she worked merrily on her craft project. The tune was a repeating one and it
had slowly seeped into Srini’s mind subconsciously. It was a strange foreign
rhythm yet friendly and catchy to the soul. Without realising it, he had
started to hum along too, to the refrain. Portions of the tune reminded him of
an old familiar song that his own mother used to sing. She too sang as she
worked – cooking or cleaning or even combing someone’s hair.
It was utter bliss and
happiness to feel the common humanity in a completely different culture and
place. Srini suddenly realised that he would be leaving it all behind, soon.
The feeling hit him hard. Much as he fought it, he could not control his
feelings of not wanting to leave this world so soon. His eyes stung painfully,
moistened over, but he mastered it and did not let the tears flow.
He did not realise that he
had been staring at the lady next to him with a strange look on his face. He
was jolted into realization by her asking him a question and looking at him
with a surprised and concerned expression.
“Are you OK, Mister?”
“Why? Yes, Yes, of course!
I am fine. Thank you! I was just lost in thoughts. I hope you don’t consider me
rude, if I was staring at you. I am sorry if you felt uncomfortable,” Srini was
a bit flustered and a bit ashamed,
“Please do continue your
work.”
He did not want to get up
immediately and move away since that would have made things look worse than
they were. He thought he might give it a few minutes, get up and walk way after
politely saying ‘goodbye’.
The lady looked at him
directly, and then she nodded and went back to her work and singing. As she
finished some part of her work with a flourish of her hand, she ended her song
with a flourish in her voice.
Srini could not help
looking at her. She too was looking at him.
She looked him directly in
the eye, as if searching deep inside his mind and reading his soul. A couple of seconds passed as if they were
hours.
“Tell me, what is wrong
with you? Is there a problem?” She asked evenly. The questions did not sound harsh or as if she
was offended by his staring at her. It sounded like she had not made up her
mind and was genuinely curious.
Srini, looked a bit
surprised. He could not tell from her tone if she was upset with him or not.
Come what may, he decided to be totally honest and tell her the truth.
“I feel very good and
terrible at the same time,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Why?” she asked, her voice
softening a bit.
“I will miss all this
terribly, when I am gone.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” replied
Srini.
“If you miss all this so
much, could you not come back for another visit?” She asked, her tone suddenly
becoming very gentle and she kept staring at him – searching with such power in
her gaze that he could feel it on his face and eyes.
“Because, I cannot!” cried
out Srini, sounding defensive, in a strangely loud voice and he could no longer
hold back his tears.
“Oh you! Come here!” She
pushed her craft work into the bag and moved over closer to him. She reached
out her arm, around the back of his head and pulled it over her shoulder as he
leaned over and cried his heart out, quietly. He seemed to sob quietly and his
body shook.
“I knew it! I knew it! You
have the same look that my brother had,” she said fiercely at fate. She pulled
him closer and hugged him, patted his back.
“So, how long are you here
for?” she asked him as Srini regained his composure.
“A couple of days more,”
replied Srini.
“How much longer do you
have?” she asked this in a matter of fact way.
“A bit over a year, the
doctor says.”
“What is your name? I am Amani
,” said the lady.
“I am Srini.”
“You Indian?”
“Originally yes.”
“Tell me about yourself,
Srini.”
“I will, but you tell me
about yourself too, Amani.”
“What have you planned for
the rest of the day?” Amani asked, realising it sounded a bit odd.
“Nothing at all in
particular!” said Srini smiling.
They both laughed.
“What did you plan to do
when you came here to Nairobi?”
“I wanted to go and visit a
place that I had never been to before. I thought I would like to look around
town. Soak in the sights, no rigid idea of must
see tourist attractions. I want to
see life in whatever form I come across it. I would like to meet people and
make friends,” Srini explained.
“Friends for the rest of
your life?” asked Amani with a strange cheeky smile. She definitely had a sense
of humour.
Srini cracked up into
laughter, “Good one that! Yes, of course for the rest of my life!”
They both laughed again.
Briefly, Srini told Amani
about himself and the diagnosis and his plan for the rest of the time remaining
for him. Amani heard him, often nodding. She had a brother who had passed away
a few years ago. He had accidentally killed his own child and had taken his own
life after a while not being able to cope with his feelings, despite the fact
that no one blamed him. He had been a very bright, popular young man, in love
with life and usually in such high spirits that no one believed what he would
become. He had planned his exit ahead, silently and quietly by himself behind a
façade of still being cheerful and busy. He had spent a few months with ‘a
certain look’ as if he was drinking in all the pleasure of life and being alive
for the last time. That was the look that Amani had recognised in Srini. Amani
had broken through the wall with her brother and he had come clean to her. She
had tried her best and realised that she could not change him. She had helped
him until the very end.
Srini was caught unawares
by his own feelings and how they surfaced in front of a total stranger and not
around people that knew him the most. He thought about it and realised that he
was not trying to hide his feelings in front of his kids and friends, but that
they brought out other feelings in him that masked the ones that came out in
front of Amani.
“Do you want to spend a day
with my family?” Amani asked him.
It surprised Srini how
easily she said it and invited him into her life and it surprised him how
easily he accepted.
“Yes, I would like that,”
he said with quiet gratitude.
They chatted for a while
longer, talking a walk around, Srini helping with the extra bag. They walked up
over to the sidelines of the children’s playground.
Amani’s grandson waved to
them and continued playing. Shortly,
they left the park. Srini picked his wheeled airline carry-on bag from his
hotel room nearby. He ordered a tea and some snacks for Amani and her grandson
- Kiano. Then they all walked to Amani’s
house that was about half a mile away, past many city streets. Amani seemed to
know a few people in the neighbourhood. They waved to her and she waved back.
There were a few strange looks at Srini accompanying her, but no questions or
comments. Kiano was a well behaved quiet
boy. He was shy at first, but then opened up and started to chat with Srini,
asking where he lived, about his family. Amani too occasionally asked some
questions.
Copyright (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2015
All rights reserved