Candles

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Dedicated to all those who share my belief that the teacher’s influence goes much beyond the four walls of the class room…

Candles

Leaning against the wall, staring vacantly, I could feel a kind of numbness, with a slow fatigue setting in. It was merely by accident that my eye fell on the pair of candles standing elegantly in one of the showcase shelves. They were my favorite mauve with shimmering spangles at places. I mechanically registered the details, too downcast to be stirred by their prettiness. I didn’t move, didn’t want to get up from that corner, too burdened by my heavy heart. But they shimmered persistently, as if mocking my state.

After what seemed like a long time, I rose finally from the corner and went to the showcase, not once loosing sight of the candles.

For want of doing anything better, I picked up the candles, still wrapped in their cellophane packing. The message on the little dedication card in front of them was in a small neat hand writing. “Merry Christmas! Love, Mrs. Andrew”. All English teachers in the world had a neat, crisp hand writing I thought, with what felt like a half smile.

We start thinking, even before we realize we are doing it. And how thoughts slip away like fine sand either in the recesses of the past or the oblivion of the future, so quietly, that we are there before we know it. My mind drifted back to that evening, last Christmas when I had visited Mrs. Andrew at her place. I used to be her favorite student in college and she had a special, almost parental attachment for me. Those days, I would look forward to her classes quite eagerly, almost passionately. It was difficult to decide which of the two was her second nature – optimism or enthusiasm.

On one of the New Year parties following that Christmas, I met him. No Greek god, but all charm. Discovered we had quite a few common interests and enjoyed each other’s company tremendously. We dated for some time, tested several new eating places together and threw a joint party on Valentine’s. More than anything else, we spent too many evenings weaving dreams together. This went on for some time and what had started off being a tiny little thought, grew into the firm belief that I finally found my man! I reveled in the happiness like being bathed in the warmth of the sun on a winter morning. There couldn’t be anyone else for me.

I winced at that thought, with fresh tears filling up my eyes, as I also remembered the casualness with which he informed me that he was going off to the States to join his brother’s firm there, and didn’t know when he would return.

Was I not happy for him that he had a bright career ahead of him? Yes of course I was. But what about my future with him? Oh well, he would think about it. His work and career were occupying too much of his mental space. Ok ditch the marriage. How about getting engaged before he left? Silence. Then a slightly exasperated sigh. He didn’t want anything “tying him down” while he was busy “working hard”. In other words, enough, I’ve had my fill with you.

I dropped the candles from my hand as I remembered those words that still stung till deep in the core. I slumped down near the showcase and nearly choked on my tears. After a while I looked at the candles again, now lying close to my foot. Mrs. Andrew’s smiling face immediately formed itself into a picture in my mind. And almost as immediately a tiny voice whispered in me, “To stay happy, you have to choose to stay happy”. This was something she would tell us in class quite often.

“But how can I be happy? After all that he did to me?” I debated with the voice.

“He didn’t do as much harm as you are doing to yourself” it shot back right in my face.

“But I never thought he would. We were so good together and I was so happy then. But I don’t have him now,” and I was sinking back into the abyss of helplessness…or learned helplessness as Mrs. Andrew would have put it.

“But you have yourself! The trouble would be when you lose yourself. So get your act together before that happens. And its time you stopped torturing yourself like that. You’ve been crying for far too long now”

I shook my head in despair. “No. I don’t think I can ever be happy again”.

“Oh yeah??”

“This is too painful, too bloody painful”

“Agreed that it is. But don’t you want to come out of it?

“Oh I can’t”

“You know, it’s like crushing a beautiful fresh rose with your hands and at the same time pitying over its damage. That’s exactly what you’re doing to yourself!”

“What?” I had stopped crying by now.

“Yes. You know, you are belittling yourself.” The voice was not so tiny anymore.

“I don’t feel like doing anything…this hurt keeps me company the whole day” I said with a wry smile, and my eyes welled up again.

“See, it’s so easy to slip into self pity. So easy to let the demons of your mind engulf you and keep you buried down, where you can keep pitying  yourself and cry as much as you like. You are taking the easy way out…”

“So what do I do?” I nearly screamed out aloud.

“Life is full of decisions and choices that you make, in every single moment that you live. It’s like a fork in the road. You need to decide where you want to go.”

I stopped mid-sob and realized I was tearing at the cellophane packing and the violet ribbon tied around the candles. I carefully laid them aside and gulped down a glass of water. It made me feel a fraction better.

“Good. You chose not to let the nausea, after crying so much, make you sick. Simple. But your first battle against those demons in the mind.”

I drew the curtain apart now and let the twilight come in, through the window panes. I picked up the candles and placed them on the table, sitting down at a dining chair. I found myself staring at them again, while holding my bowed head with both hands.

“Now stop thinking that it was all your fault, and justifying your thoughts.” Guess the voice sensed me take a few stealthy steps towards the abyss of despair again.

“Guess he wasn’t meant to be yours…”

“But why me…what wrong did I do”

“There again you go thinking that you did something wrong.  Why do you want to believe that you’re at fault?”

“Then why did he leave me?” This was the thousandth time I posed that question.

“Maybe because you have something better in store. You never know…”

I didn’t have a counter question. Just sighed resignedly this time.

“You see, just try and let go of these burdensome feelings. They are not worth holding on to for so long.”

“I’m not able to. I can’t…really”

“Do it”. This sounded like the command of a general heading a column of soldiers, losing the war.

“He gave you all that pain only to some extent. The rest of it all, you are giving  yourself. Believe it or not, your life doesn’t end here. Not all’s over…None of this makes you a lesser human being. You’re still precious, still lovable.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. For once try and see yourself disengaged from him and all that pain and hurt and unhappiness. You’ll start seeing the difference.”

“How?”

“Try and gently let go. Try not to think about it. You’ve thought enough. Now you need to let other, more pleasant things occupy your thoughts. For starters, go and stand near the window and look at how beautifully the sun is setting.”

I did. And also got myself to focus on the fragrance of the rain that the air was filling up with, the hoot of birds flying past and the rhythmic swaying of the branches across my window. I drunk in the sight and didn’t want to move away from there. I had opened this window after many days. I took a few deep breaths of the cool breeze and was amazed at how much better I was feeling.

“You’re doing a great job! Now, similarly you have to start focusing on other things. Pick up the threads again and restart your life.”

“Hmmm”

“When there’s a loss, the soul suffers. It has to, before it can move on to the next phase. Your soul has suffered. Now, you’ve got to move on.”

“Yes, I think.”

“The transition from this phase to the next will happen slowly. Let it take its natural course. That’s ok. But, it will certainly happen, now that you’ve decided to let it happen,” it said gently, like a mother.

“I’m looking forward to moving on,” I said after a long time.

“That’s nice. And how would you like to celebrate your little success? 

“Celebration?”

“Oh come on. You aren’t crying any more. More importantly, you don’t feel the need to cry. Time to pamper yourself a bit.”

“Guess I’ll have a long hot water bath. That should be relaxing”

“Sounds good.”

“And then, maybe order some good food”

“Wow!”

“And then go out for a walk in the lovely night!” I actually smiled.

I slowly undid the violet ribbon and took one candle off the remains of the cellophane packing. The spangles shone prettily and the mauve was the loveliest I ever saw. I lit the candle and just sat back watching the flame, so balanced and upright. Now dancing gracefully, and now all quiet and still and yellow.

It made me feel light, buoyed and elevated, one by one. Yes, it was reason enough to celebrate.

I headed towards my room. I stopped and took a step back midway, in front of the mirror on one of the walls. This time, I didn’t cringe away from my reflection, and could look at myself in the eye for a long long time. The next thing I remember, I was smiling naturally and from within, with my eyes. At the same moment, I thought I would give the other candle to the lonely old woman who lived next door, away from her children.

A kind of peace descended on me.

“I feel very peaceful from within,” I said. 

“And happy?”

“Yes that too, I think” 

Copyright 2007 Mona Ramavat

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