Do I know You?

She was returning from Ahena, and while seated in the coy seat of the “Executive” class in the flying machine, she felt great. Because she had promised herself someday that she would fly back to the country in it. As she repeatedly blinked, she saw flashes of the life she left behind in the place she was returning to. Her family, her little daughter, her house, and even her husband, whom she had once married out of love. The rusted chains of matrimony came undone ten years after her daughter was born. She was thirty five then, and had discovered love in a twenty eight year old man by then. She wanted a divorce and she got it. She wanted the custody of her daughter, she did not get it. After all you do not get everything. Along with the man she fell in love with she went to Ahena, where just a year back he died of a chronic disease. So now that she had lived her life, and was of sixty five, she wanted to look back. Her first husband had told her, “He might seem like a better man than me. But I am the father of your first child. And I will always remain.”

These words rang through her ears all these years. She felt like, it was all her mistake and all the unending occasions when she felt neglected, was just some mistake. Some gory mistake. So she returned.

When she stepped out of the airport, her cell phone was flooded with texts from her doctor. “Not wise of you.”, it read. She simply smiled to herself, thinking, “Indeed, not wise to arrive now. Now of all times.” Her arms and legs were aching with some unknown pain. After rushing a few tablets down her throat, she walked ahead.

It was raining heavily. She took a cab till the hotel where she was to stay put. Then from there she decided to walk the same roads again. The roads where she met her first and second husbands were opposite to each other. Things have a way with irony, she thought. Each drop of the serene thing poured on her, gave a painful sting to her soul and body. She could feel herself sinking in all possible ways. But her thoughts did not let her realize why. “Was it me who strayed?”, “Did I run away from my daughter?”, “Was it me?”, these questions kept eating her up in pieces.

She reached the gate of the house which she once lived in as a wife and mother, an unhappy one. “Mr.Burn, is it Mr.Burn’s house?”, she mumbled. “Yes it is. Please may I know who is it?”, said a young girl. “I am, Mrs.B…….Mrs.Gunther, Mr.Burn’s friend”, said she, trying to hide the mistake she was going to commit. She knew she had no right to think of it. “Oh!, Please come in. I am Elizabeth, Mr.Burn’s daughter.”, said the pretty girl smiling. These words burnt her from within. She could not face it any longer.

“I … I am, Bella. I am Bella Gunther.”, she said almost in tears. She could not hide her guilt. It was eating her soul up faster. Then she stood up, as up in a hurry, and said, “I am sorry I made a mistake, I need to go. She was half way to the door when Elizabeth said, “Mom…!”. She turned back, and watched Elizabeth looking at her. Elizabeth turned back again and cried, “Mom! It is some Bella Gunther here!”. Her mother rushed out. It was Miriam, Mr.Burn’s sister. She came out running, saw Bella, and the room fell prey to silence. Elizabeth excused herself to make some tea for the ladies. The absence of Mr.Burn, no presence of any other woman and Elizabeth’s calling Miriam “Mom”, explained it all. Mr.Burn was no more, he did not marry again. Elizabeth was adopted by her aunt. Miriam said, after a lot of time, “Yes, Mrs.Gunther , Do I know you?”. She had tears in her eyes, could not speak more. Rose from the chair.

“It was one such rainy day, when I had said these same words to my daughter. I don’t know if I said them to the rest of the family too. It is one such rainy day again, and my daughter doesn’t know who I am. Some, ‘Mrs.Gunther’.”, and she began crying. She handed over a chocolate bar to Miriam and said, “Too less for a compensation though, but give it to my darling.” And quietly left the place. Later that same day, she was found lifeless in a Church.

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