Lily

PARALLEL LINES

ACT 2- LILY

"She loved lilies and I loved her, with rain she arrived and so did my happiness"

Work, in general, is the same, with major obvious differences. it's a constant war to be perfect, disciplined and filled with short-lived dopamine.

In the end, they all look for a home, that's what we live for right? Absolute comfort after a day-long battle.

Mr Subramaniam is no same, 25 years of service and he knew the exact rhythm of each hour of the wall clock, he liked the smell of old paper and knew the difference between a good and bad day by just stepping inside the bank.

It's monsoon and Mr Subramaniam would come early to avoid the messy tiles, but with monsoon comes rain and they brought Rain lilies. Out of pink, yellow, white and orange hues, The white ones were lucy's favourite, his wife. Don't know if it's scientifically possible to explain the mysterious nature of happiness, it is amazing even if it's not yours. 

Clouded with work a new voice called for Mr Subramaniam's attention, "Happy retirement sir" said the young manager with regard. 

With no excitement, Mr Subramaniam bowed his head in agreement and continued his typing to avoid later conversation. Without any wrinkles on the steel grey shirt and perfectly combed silver hairs, he seemed like one of those grumpy sad oldies. But lucy used to call him 'Mr. Nanhe' (small)  as his clothes and combing was done by her.

As the day went by he would work on file after file without any chat or chai breaks, like he loved the job and had no comfort place to go back for.

But this was not always the case with him, the weekends were used for decluttering his wife's flower shop. It was located around the corner as shop no-9 on lane 2, Pahadganj.

It had every possible exotic and wild variety available in Delhi. 

After everyday work, Mr Subramaniam would visit the shop and wipe his face with Lucy's chunni. She used to cringe in amusement but it was his comfort place. Together they help to close the shop and then Bajaj chetak was their metro back in time. 

Among all this happiness they never realised the dual reality of life where nothing is guaranteed forever. There's only one sole truth among all the corporate lies, Death!

The only guarantee we have.

Days went by and Lucy's lungs were getting severe and the condition worsened. Her long battle with high-grade Asthama was chasing her dearly but she was relentless, She used to water the lilies, roses and bed of grass. Her sweet voice from the kitchen matched Rafi Sahab's song on the radio used to light up the house. Her favourite colour was grey but her love was colourful.

For some reason, Mr Subramaniam was so naive to notice the charm among the chaos that all he was left with fancy metaphors to remember. Maybe they were always there and he never noticed. Loss of a child and some year later his wife, there was no charm no light and no eyes to see anymore.

Childless and a widower, there's not even a combination of a sympathetic word in the dictionary for his pain.

Two days left for retirement he doesn't know what the rest of his life is going to be like, let alone the next week.

The clock struck half past five and Mr Subramaniam started to sort out his table, which he hated every day since last year as they exchanged the old oak wood table for this new fancy steel one.

Everything was changing around him and somehow the old Delhi life was deeply engraved in him, and that didn't want to change.

As he left the office, the old routine would fight with the new one. Back then the path to home was the office, 5 min walk to reach "flower story" her wife's shop and then straight to home in their scooter, it was simple. But there's no longer a shop no-9 on lane 2 Pahadganj, he was left stranded in this fast-paced world.

Pahadganj used to be the place of incense vendors, and idol-making shops. From Shri Ganesh to surah Yaseen tasbeeh, pahadganj was not divided in religion but united in love. That unique rosemary scent used to take back in time, right where a flash of perfection used to live, there he sees lucy negotiating with customers, hears her sweet voice ordering ribbons and the beautiful shop named 'flower story'.

Mr Subramaniam started walking again to kick out of the flashbacks but noticed something new today, shop no-9 was no longer empty and a book store was there, he couldn't help but smile to see his wife's place alive again. Kids were buying books and some people were standing outside reading newspapers. After a long time, Pahadganj seemed familiar to him. 

Seems like the 'flower story' is continuing its legacy within books, a story worth leaving behind.

After a walk of a few kilometres, the station arrived and he climbed the stairs leaving his smile behind.

Metro Station was packed, as usual, with lots of faces and so many tales within them.

Soon the train arrived and everyone struggled to find a seat, whereas Mr Subramaniam took a different entrance to end up in an empty corner and seated himself.

A young fellow in search of a seat came to join his front and luckily got a seat.

The guy had messy hair, and rolled-up sleeves that reminded Mr Subramaniam of his younger self, he observed the guy attending calls, texting on phone and quietly observing the outside view.

It's sad how everyone gives Mr Subramaniam sympathy for the loss he has faced but seeing a young carefree self-made him realise that love is more powerful than sorrow.

One of the things lucy wanted to do was to visit Italy and the flower beds of japan. She often mentioned an old Japanese phrase 'go-en' which simply Meant lucky charm, her and Mr Subramaniam's meeting was a beautiful accident in her senses and she called it serendipity.  Folk tales describe go-en to be a bond of destiny, where two people are meant to meet each other by a higher force. 

Maybe his encounter with the young fellow was a go-en.

Soon the young fellow nodded his head to greet Mr Subramaniam and he smiled back in regard. As the temperature drop a few points low Mr Subramaniam took out his scarf made of black wool covered in white lilies all around.

Seeing the scarf, the guy complimented him and Mr Subramaniam replied ' it's my wife's and smiled.

The next stop was Saket and Mr Subramaniam looked outside to see how far he'd come.

He saw love in clusters and the hope he always had. People claim that life should be free of regrets but he believed life to be a journey full of reflexes following regrets. Life is nothing without love as,

Love is a reflex.

Love is not about fighting monsters to save the princess and about that kiss.

Love is an encounter that channels frequent ripples causing reflexes in our body to stay intact and be with them forever

Love is not just the heart or brain, it's every cell of their body loving them every day with ripples, more and more every till forever.

Love is the reason why Mr Subramaniam was still going and he decided to not waste that love.

Seeing this, Lucy must be smiling wide with the rest of the stars, not alone but among the lilies and in the wind of rain.

Maybe the young guy and Mr Subramaniam are not so different but exactly the same. Seeking love through parallel lines.

~ जैसे तुम्हे आते है ना आने के बहाने, ऐसे ही किसी रोज़ न जाने के लिए आ।

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Both Acts of parallel lines are sewn into each other, they are contrasting tales of special lives.

Lily is a sequel to a story named scarf of lilies and now it explores the wide range of emotions hidden behind, the 400 words article I wrote in late 2020.

Death and love are very sensitive and hard-to-describe areas in the work of fiction, as we often relate the pain with our own stories. But I think that's what makes it more beautiful, to feel what others can and acknowledge that this is what life is about. To relate and find ourselves among the crowd.

Thank you for reading and showing respect to art, one day all of this will end up in a book and you all will be part of my history. To infinity and beyond!!