Heart burn or destiny!

A Short Story

Life leads people to weird destinies. When I was ten I dreamt of becoming a driver. The white uniform, the cap and the ability to drive the four wheeled monster was in my eyes superhero stuff. When I was 30, I was already on my way up in life and had a driver who drove my luxury sedan. Driving in rush hour traffic, the news papers wrote, is the top cause for young men’s death.

Life had been good to me. I put in my hard work at school and college and found myself among the ever growing bunch of successful businessmen. I had champagne at night and wrote down numbers in my blackberry. Life was good.

But sometimes, right between the morning cup of coffee and closing the car door, there would be a few seconds when something like an ache will build in my chest. Some ones lost voice will whisper, wasn’t there something else you were suppose to do? My first suspicion was indigestion, followed by an EEG for the fear of heart trouble. And last but not the least a counselor to test my stress level.

Things were normal for months after my panicked rush. Being a bachelor, my panics was however not noticed by any and I felt safe to continue with my life. Looking back I think I would have been alright if I hadn’t fallen in love. In fact I fell in love twice within the space of seven days. First with Laura, the vivacious teacher from Goa. And then Kusum, the half blind rag picker and one of Laura’s students.

Let me tell the story properly. I was attending a seminar on social responsibilities of the young and rich. It’s among this mixed bunch of fresh young tycoons and tired social workers that I met Laura. She was not actually beautiful, come to think of it. She was however supremely confident of what she spoke. It wasn’t passion, it was conviction that set her apart. As I stood there talking to her and listening her plans for teaching rag pickers, I suddenly realized I had no clue what I want from my life.

Next Sunday, when I walked out onto my terrace and the ache in my heart returned, I didn’t call a doctor. I called Laura. Surprised and to some extent skeptical about my interest, Laura took me to her “school” nevertheless. The drive to the slum was uncomfortable, even though I was not able to slam the seal of “social worker types” on her.

It was dirty, smelly and chaotic. I hesitated at the door of the car. I don’t know what Laura saw in my face but I found myself facing the delicate outstretched hands of that woman. Swallowing my ego and long dead chivalrous thoughts, I actually took the hand and stepped into my destiny.

In the school, which was small ground in the middle of the small slum, there sat 12 odd girls and boys, faces dirty and dresses torn, laughing like mad. I think I must have stopped to stare at their face, because I felt a tug on my trouser legs and looked down to see Kusum. Small for her age, with a serene expression that looked years older, she led me to an upturned drum, cleaned it with her already dirty dupatta and set me down.

It was an experienced that made my skin crawl. I had no time to give to this people. They had always existed and always will. It was not for me to interfere. But Laura was doing it, happily. An architecture graduate, she was from my side of life. And somehow, I felt as if she had crossed over somewhere better. And I was stuck in limbo.

My return to professional life wasn’t smooth. The ache grew to the extent where I actually had to consult a doctor and was diagnosed as having mild ulcer. I was told to reduce stress in my life. I was lost. I had met Laura a couple of times after that visit and had found myself falling for her. And I shut up the little voice inside by arguing that it was love that clouded my perception.

But I kept thinking about Kusum and her serene face. The un-seeing eye seeing more then mine. The kind gesture, which I didn’t reciprocate. And then came the clincher. Laura informed me she was moving back to Goa, where she believed her work was needed. For a 30 year old in love, break ups are very confusing. I was very mature and told the love of my life I understood. I didn’t. I felt like smashing vases.

With Laura gone, my life was again thrown into chaos. The little voice was pestering me to see Kusum, now that I could not argue about love. I lost the debate and after years of making a professional life and career, I suddenly felt happy about handing in my resignation. There was twinge of pain in seeing the shocked look on my mothers face when I told her. But I was giddy with love. I was going to see Kusum.

In what has been the most dysfunctional relationship in my life, Kusum led me through hoops as I led her through childhood and puberty and then teenage. She was destined to be kind caregiver though and chose her path in following me as a teacher. I was, by then, an old teacher with a small school. Laura was by my side. Not as my wife though. Our mutual destinies never intertwined, though I always had her with me in every step of my life. And when I sit in my wicker chair with a glass of chai in the hand, I know the pain in my chest is definitely a heart problem.