The stranger who changed my life

In the indeterminate period which begins with the end of formal education and lies between the usual culmination of marriage, I  found that I had nothing to do. I had just received my Bachelors degree in English literature and thought vaguely about becoming a journalist or studying further. My life so far had been comfortable, sheltered beneath the protective shade of my parent’s love  and I had little knowledge of the world outside. My parents had started the hunt for the suitable groom.  Amidst the flurry of scanning newspaper advertisements and exchanging horoscopes, they advised me to do nothing. There was no point starting a course or a career at this point, they reasoned. If a good match came along, I will have to stop whatever I was doing and move to where my husband would be. I was not ambitious. I wanted a continuation of the comfortable life and was prepared to be moderately satisfied with whatever fate had in store for me. I knew what lay ahead for me- no great passion but no terrible sorrow either. This thought gave me a warm secure feeling and I looked forward to my future with a detached interest.

After a few weeks, I was becoming bored with the daily mundane routine of doing nothing but waiting. When a new bookshop opened in the shopping complex near our house, I was immediately excited. I liked being among books, I enjoyed the smell of fresh print and the feel of crisp pages. I looked forward to the stories that lived through the words and sentences crafted by great authors and for the few hours that I read, I too lived in those stories. The shop was called 'Books and Bits'; the ‘Bits’ comprised a small collection of greeting cards, magazines and assorted gift items to tempt non readers into the shop.

There was a notice that said “Help Wanted” stuck outside the shop. I still don’t know why I did it. I had no intention of working there and being a shop assistant was not a part of my future. Somehow, I found myself talking   to the old woman who was at the counter about the help she wanted. Mrs. Nair was the owner of the shop. She was a small birdlike creature with sparse white hair and dark brown eyes. She wore a white sari with small blue flowers and had an air of quiet sorrow about her. We started talking and she explained that the shop was belonged to her husband who was passionate about books. The older books were from his personal collection. He had set up the shop a few years ago after retiring from service with his savings and had managed it till he succumbed to a fatal stroke a few months ago. She had shifted the shop to this complex since it was closer to their house. I could sense that she had no idea of how to run a shop and struggled to keep her husband’s dream alive.

“I can help,” I said quickly. “I like to read and I have nothing much to do now.” She could not pay me much. The shop was making a loss and she didn’t know how long she could manage it. I was not worried about the money. I thought that this was a good way to keep myself occupied. My parents thought that this was a passing fancy and were too busy to wonder what kind of work I was doing. I said that I was helping at the library.

I enjoyed myself. Mrs. Nair taught me how to operate the computer at the counter and I tried my own system of arranging the books under different sections. Usually, I sat at the counter and read one of the books. Ms. Nair gratefully handed over the shop to me and made only one visit during the day. Occasionally, customers would saunter in. Some would ask me for the latest best seller and I would point it out to them. I was waiting to recommend my own favorites but no one asked for my advice.

Then one day, the person who would change my life forever walked in.

The first thing I noticed about her was her eyes. They were bright, sparkling, ridged with kohl and full of life. She wore heavy silver earrings and a matching silver chain. An orange kurta shimmered over a pair of loose purple trousers and silver bangles jangled at her wrist as she pushed back strands of dark red hair from her face.

She was older than me but had an air of childlike wonder as she looked around the shop.

“Do you have any books on poetry?” she asked. Her voice was deep, husky yet musical and resonant.

“What kind of poetry?” I asked, eager to offer my advice.

“I have no idea”, she laughed. “But Ashok loves poetry so I thought I would buy him a book of poems for his birthday.”

I wondered who Ashok was.

“Does he like modern poems or classical ones?”

“She was a phantom of delight, when she first gleamed upon my sight…” she murmured softly.

“That’s what he quoted to me when we first met. I still remember it.” she smiled to herself. I did not know people who quoted poetry to each other, certainly not married couples. I could not imagine anyone saying that to me ever. I stared at her for a minute and then hurried towards the books. I picked out an anthology of Indian poetry translated into English and handed it to her. She flipped through the pages and read out a few lines; “I have been disturbed by your straight sweetness from the ankle bone to the flower of your body…”

“I’ll take it,” she said. The shop looked dull after she had left. A scent of unknown flowers lingered in the air. I found myself thinking about her, about Ashok’s reaction when she gave him the book, about her life. I didn’t think I would ever see  her again but she walked in to the shop, a week later. This time, she was dressed in yellow and glowed like a garden of sun flowers.

She came up to me and said, “I want to thank you for your selection. Ashok really loved the book. He was very appreciative.” Her face lit up like a million watt bulb and she winked at me. I was not used to people winking. I had only a vague idea about what she meant and I felt my face flush.

“I am glad,” I muttered.

“Do you have any books on Coorg?” she asked moving in to the shop. “Ashok and I are thinking of going there soon. The weather is so good, that we may even take his bike and go on the road.”

As we stood looking through the books, she looked up at me. “Do you like traveling?”

“Yes,” I found myself saying. “I have always wanted to travel but I haven’t been …”

I had lived in the same city all my life and had never been beyond a few hundred miles from our state.

“Why don’t you?”

“Er..I just..”

“I always tell Ashok, You only have one life. You should do as much as you can with it.”

I didn’t say anything.

She laughed. “Ashok says I live as though I had only one day!”

I didn’t know how I lived. What she said made me wonder. I felt an uneasy, restless feeling creep over me. We couldn’t find a book on Coorg but she bought one on Reiki. “I always wanted to know something about Reiki,” she said. “I am starting these classes next week.” I wondered how she managed to do so much.

I kept myself  busy in the shop. I convinced Mrs. Nair to buy some books for children. I had seen several mothers come in asking for children’s books. We had a small alcove in the back of the shop which I converted into the children’s section. We had the walls painted in bright colors and hung a pictures of Winnie the Pooh and Micky Mouse there. I put a notice saying, “New Children’s books.” More people started coming in to the shop. I put up a display of our  best sellers at the entrance of the shop and hired a small boy to dust and clean the books daily.

I was hardly at home and finally my parents started complaining. They had short listed three prospects for the first round. I saw the photos. The men  looked unfamiliar, strange. I couldn’t imagine any of them quoting poetry to me. One of them, a bespectacled man in a blue shirt, was coming to see me next week. I had expected to be excited, anxious or at least eager but I felt nothing. I was thinking about the inventory of old books we had and wondered what to do with them.

I was busy arranging a book shelf at the shop and did not even notice her enter. “The shop is looking good.” I heard her say. She was finishing off  an ice cream cone and licked off  a smear of chocolate from her lips. I asked about her trip to Coorg.

“Wonderful” she said. “The coffee plantations there are marvelous.”

“Is there any book you are looking for today? I asked. There was no one else in the shop and I was glad to have a chance to talk to her.

For a few seconds a shadow passed across her face and I saw her hesitate.

“Do you have anything which tells you about the future? How your life is going to turn out five years from now?” she laughed but I could sense a  disquiet beneath the smile.

“No- we don’t have any astrology books unless you want to look at Linda Goodman’s Sunsigns..”

“No, the signs are there, its just that I don’t know ..”

I was surprised. She seemed like a person who was in control of her life, a life with a loving husband, the promise of children and lifetime of adventure ahead. I had thought about her often and wondered if my life would ever be like that. I recognized a sharp feeling in my gut which I hesitated to acknowledge as envy.

Sometimes, it’s much easier to talk to a stranger, someone who knows nothing about you and the patterns that make up your life.

When she asked me if was married, I found myself telling her about my life; about the software engineer in the blue shirt who was coming to see me the next day and the  banker who would come the following week.

“Do you want to get married?” she asked. “Are you excited about it? Is it what you want to do with your life?” she seemed genuinely interested.

I had not thought about it. I was letting it happen to me, so I must be doing what I want.

“Everyone gets married,” I said lightly. “You seem so happily married that I guess it must be good.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked. A small smile hovered about her lips.

She gave me a steady look and said, “You are the first person to whom I am telling this. Ashok has just asked me to marry him!”

I was surprised.  I felt foolish and old fashioned. How stupid of me to assume that they were married. “I am sorry.” I felt myself saying. “I thought..I..felt..”

She looked amused. “It’s alright. You see, I never believed in marriage. My parents divorced when I was nine and the only thing I remember from my childhood is the sound of their screaming voices. I love Ashok deeply but I thought marriage would destroy it. I am independent now. I have my own interior decoration firm  and I am doing well. We have been together for five years and he never insisted on it. But now, he is going abroad on work and I can either go with him as his wife or….” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Marriage is a much safer option.” I ventured slowly.

“Safe!! Nothing is safe. Live is full of risks. Everything is a risk. That’s what makes life so wonderful. Not knowing how things will turn out!” Her face was animated and her eyes flashed.

“Then shouldn’t you try to reduce the risk, make it more reliable for yourself?” I questioned her. That’s what I had been taught all my life.

“Do you know what Ashok said to me yesterday?” She looked right into my eyes.

“A ship is safest in the harbor, but that is not where it’s supposed to be!”

There was a minute of silence. Then someone entered the shop and asked for something.

“I must be going”, she said. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Yes,” I said somewhat mechanically. After she left I realized that I didn’t even know her name and I might never see her again.

That night I dreamt about storms and ships lashed by giant waves. I was on a rock in the middle of the ocean and heavy waters swirled around me. I awoke feeling confused and uncomfortable with a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. The  morning was a busy whirl as the household went through the process of getting ready for the bride viewing ceremony. I washed my hair and wore the new sari my mother pressed on me. I was thinking about how Mrs. Nair would manage for the day without me; there was a shipment of books coming in and I wanted to implement a new idea about putting up reviews of books we stocked on a notice board in the shop. I didn’t think much about the man who could become my husband.

In the evening, I carefully served tea and snacks to our visitors. The bespectacled software engineer and I were given our few minutes together. He seemed like an easy going man, the kind with whom a woman would have a comfortable life. He had prospects of going abroad and came from a ‘decent family’, as my father put it.

“So what are you doing now?” he asked.

“Nothing much..” I murmured. I answered his questions in monosyllables. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

“What are your plans for the future?” he continued.

‘Nothing’ was what I was going to say, but I stopped.

Suddenly, it seemed very clear. I knew what my future was going to look like. Maybe not all of it, but I knew what I wanted to do with it.

“I am going to run my own bookshop,” I said.

“What” ?

“Yes! I will ask Mrs. Nair to sell it to me. I know how it works now. I can take a loan from the bank and buy it from her. Or we could become partners. Then I..” I knew I was blabbering, speaking my thoughts aloud but I couldn’t stop myself. I hadn’t felt this excited in a long time. A frisson of excitement flowed deliciously down my spine.

I could see the shop clearly now; the black signage replaced with a bright red one, soft lights in the front, small cane chairs with red cushions for people to sit and read books, a tie up with the coffee shop next door, authors coming in for book readings…”

I didn’t hear what my prospective groom was saying until he spoke loudly, almost into my face.

“But I am planning to go abroad by the end of this year!”

“All the best! I hope you have a great time there,” I smiled at him.

My friends would think I was mad. Relatives would whisper about the poor crazy girl who became a shopkeeper. Prospective bridegrooms would be offended. My parents would come up with all kinds of objections. It wouldn’t matter. I knew that she would be out there living her life as though it was her last day, not knowing how things would turn out but relishing the wonder and mystery of it.

I knew that it was time for my ship to come out of the harbor. I   would unfurl the sails  weather the storms, take the plunge. Who knows? One day I might even meet another sailor who would make my face light up like million watt bulb and we could embark on a glorious voyage together.

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