Hiranakshi (part 5)

That evening her husband noticed the food was not as well prepared as usual. He also noticed Hiran did not fan him well. She seemed to find it hard to hold the fan properly in her hand, as if she were too delicate to do so or as if her palms were too precious to be creased. He found her to be very pre-occupied. He said nothing to her. He was a wise man and knew that one must always be patient with the young. So he went to rest as usual.

In the morning, Hiran was up earlier than usual. She waited impatiently for her husband to leave for work. Afternoon seemed to take its own time coming. Finally it was that voice again. 'Is it me you await, pretty one?' Hiran's ears perked up and her eyes shone. 'Look what I found!' Hiran took the bangle- seller by the hand, almost dragging her along, to the back garden. There in the dark corner of the garden, where sunlight could hardly reach even in the prime of noon, Hiran revealed a large butterfly. It had caught one of its tentacles in the pattern of the bark and could not release itself. 'It will die today, won't it?' Hiran asked solemly. 'Maybe.' said the bangle seller and squatted on the floor. She began to trace a pattern on the sand. 'What are we going to do? How do we save it?' Hiran was getting paranoid. 'We cannot save it, pretty one. No one can save no one. We can only make it immortal.' 'How?' Hiran was almost screaming now. 'Watch me while I make it immortal,' said the bangle seller calmly. Hiran went on her knees to see what the bangle- seller was upto. She was drawing, with her index finger, on the sand. She was making a picture, a very pretty one, of the butterfly. When she had finished, she looked up and caught the bewilderment in Hiran's eye. She laughed to see the large almond shaped eyes so troubled. 'Nice picture,' said Hiran recovering, 'You are more talented than my husband.' 'Does your husband draw?' 'Oh yes. He is a very talented man.' 'May I see any of his works?' 'No, you may not! Are you trying to fool me? You said you would make the butterfly immortal! Now it hangs there on the bark. It's dead! And you have nothing but a drawing on sand that won't last till tomorrow.' 'Will you forget it, pretty one? Will you forget how you wanted to show me this insect? Will you forget how I drew it on the sand, or this conversation?' Hiran paused before she answered, 'Not for a few days atleast.' 'Alright. I won't forget it for all my life. So the butterfly did not die. It still lives.' 'Ah.' said Hiran, 'But only till you are alive. When you die, your memory of it will die as well. It will truely be dead then!' 'Not if I manage to make another person remember me when I am dead,' the bangle seller smiled. 'I don't understand you,' said Hiran, 'you don't make sense.' 'Do you want me to draw you another picture?' the bangle seller asked. The lines on Hiran's brow were eased and she smiled again.

They spent all afternoon together, one dictating what was to be drawn and the other obeying. The husband came back to a house where the lamp had not been lit though it was well past sunset. The food was simple. Hiran had not even bothered to tie up her hair. It floated around her face like a dense smoke. Had he been a weaker man, he may have lost his composure, but he was wise. He said nothing.