I woke up early morning just like I did all my life. The
room was small and the furniture sparse just as I wanted. I started to pack my
things in a small suitcase. Two pairs of
trousers, a few shirts, the military jacket, couple of old and dusty books -
that’s what I had and that’s what I needed.
I paced around in the room stopping at the bed hesitatingly.
It was a queen sized bed and was neatly done. I felt the soft mattress with the
back of palm. I looked at the clock, took my suitcase and walked to the door.
With a hand on the door knob I turned back and stared at the bed. Leaving the
suitcase by the door I gingerly traced back to the bed and rolled the mattress
to a side. The bedstead was covered with
stacks of plastic bags, hundreds of them in different colours and sizes. People
collect stamps, stones, match- boxes as a hobby. I kept plastic bags.
I picked one very old looking bag, the letters on it fading
and illegible. It was the first time a circus came to our village. My father
carried me on his shoulders. It was as if the whole village and others nearby
were going there. The circus top was visible from a distance sitting in the
middle of the paddy fields. My dad put me down as we reached it and I ran to
it. That’s when I saw it – a bright plastic cover in a girl’s hand. The vendor
was selling sweets in this cover. I took the cover to my nose and took a deep
breath. It still smelt of those lovely sweets, it still smelt of my dad’s sweat
as he hoisted me over his head in the hot sun.
The bag in bright red and yellow patterns was very dear to
me. I saw her at her window stealing a furtive glance as I cycled down the
street. Every day of that summer holidays I cycled on her street waiting to see
her face through that tiny window. I would ring the bell loudly as I passed her
house. I skipped school one day and went to the nearest town and bought a nice
and cheap perfume from the shop there. The lady at the counter was surprised
but gave me an understanding smile. “Is she beautiful?” she asked, teasingly
and I went red with embarrassment. She put the perfume in a bright red and
yellow patterned bag and whispered in my ears “steal a kiss from her”. I
clutched the bag with my freckled hands and felt the young heart thumping from
the wetness of her lips.
Next to it was a big bag printed with tiny bears in a never
ending sequence. You could not make out the beginning or end of the bears. The
huge bear in the bag leapt at my little daughter who jumped with joy. It was
her fifth birthday and she loved bears.
My heart beamed with pride as I caressed the bold black
letters of the name of my company on a stately looking bag. All my colleagues
and their families were gathered for the nuclear company’s annual employee day.
I worked as the maintenance engineer responsible for keeping the fuel rods
cool. I heard everyone clapping as I took the best employee certificate from
the cover.
My hands trembled as I picked the cold cover carrying
reports of my wife’s incurable illness. It condemned me to solitude in this long
twilight of my life.
I know no other place. I lived all my life here. I was born
here. I ran behind my mum here. I went to school here. It was here that my dad
punished me. I made friends, played pranks and got into trouble here. I loved
my wife here, I lost my wife here. I doted on my daughters here, I lost my son
here. I love the paddy fields here. I
cherish the cherry blossom here. I am scared of the earthquakes here. I am
afraid of the floods here. I am proud of the clean energy producing, nuclear company
here. I like my loneliness here.
Waves after waves crashed on the shores of reality. Was it
water or are they memories? The tsunami knocked the power out. The rods were
exposed. No, it was my frailties that were exposed. My tenuous link to life through
the walking stick of memories was exposed. The mandatory exclusion zone was
going to sever this link with its Sieverts.
I tied the plastic bags end to end - Circus with the first
love. First love with my wife’s clothes delivery. Wife’s with my daughter’s
bear and that to my friend’s book - A long and sturdy memory chain. The
memories wrapped themselves around me, around my neck. I hung by these memories
while life evacuated.
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