True love

by Rupa Wijesinghe

‘Natasha, who’s that boy you meet everyday, at the top of the road on your way to office? People are asking me.’

“That is Michael, a colleague of mine in office, Amma”. \“You are going to be twenty one soon, and I’ll be looking out for a partner for you, a person to suit our family.”

The little playful girl with beautiful eyes, had blossomed into an attractive woman, admired by many. On her twenty-first birthday, her large ancestral home by the beach, was full of activity. Friends, relatives and neighbours were invited to dinner followed by dancing and merry-making. Natasha was the only child. Her father, a high-ranking official in the Navy had died unexpectedly when she was twelve years old. She was well cared for, by her mother, and Aunt Lucille, her father’s sister.

“And from where is Michael?”, Mrs. Silva queried, the day after the party. “You were dancing with him all the time, and I overheard people say that you two made a perfect couple”.

Natasha was thrilled. She had wondered what her mother’s reactions would be, when she confesses she’s in love with him.

“He is from Kelaniya, Amma. His parents had died when he was young. He knows nothing about his relatives, and he grew up in an orphanage and lived there till he got employment”.

“And what’s his job?” “He is the chief clerk.” Mrs. Silva was horrified.

“So, you are in love with him?”

“Yes.”

A furious Mrs. Silva broke out in a rage. “You fool, can’t you realise he’s running after your wealth, a man with no good job, nor a place to live in. You are bringing disgrace on the family. Remember, what a respected man your father was. He will turn in his grave.” She gave vent to her feelings, by hitting her chest with her hands.

Aunt Lucille tried to pacify her, and so did Menika, the loyal domestic aid.

Mother and father

“Do you know with what love and affection I have brought you up, playing the role of both mother and father, in spite of my busy schedule of work as an Executive in the Bank”.

She was adamant that Natasha should give up her friendship with Michael, which she was forced to do, and Michael, broken-hearted, left the country seeking greener pastures, though he was in touch with her office colleagues and often inquired about Natasha.

Natasha was extremely sad. She tried hard to forget Michael. She showed no anger towards her mother, and got about her work. Menika, who had looked after her from the day she was born, was a great source of comfort to her. She slept in Natasha’s room. Natasha would cry her heart out in the nights, and Menika would comfort her.

Knocked down

“You will get a very good partner, Natasha baby, as you are such a good girl. Your destined partner, and a very good one, will come your way soon”.

“How can I ever forget Michael, and the way Amma humiliated him, and chased him out of the house, Menika”. It was on a gloomy morning that Natasha was knocked down by a speeding vehicle while crossing the road. All she remembered was only that. When she regained consciousness, she was on a hospital bed. Her mother was sobbing, and Aunt Lucille was stroking Natasha’s head.

Back home after a long stay in hospital, she could walk only with the help of crutches, as one leg below the knee had been amputated. Mrs. Silva was grief-stricken. Never a day would pass without her crying. Natasha once heard her tell Menika, “Who would want to marry her now, even with her angelic looks, excellent qualities, wealth and status.

Sewing and painting

Who will live in this big house with her, once we are dead and gone? She will be all alone. Menika, I’m being avenged for humiliating and insulting Michael as he had no house to live in, no relatives nor wealth.

At least, he had two legs to stand on. I heard from Miriam, Natasha’s friend, that he’s academically qualified now, and doing very well”.

Natasha peeped through the curtain, unseen. They were both crying. Menika was seated by Amma’s feet, on the floor, where Michael and she had been dancing. Natasha’s heart bled with sorrow. Sad memories came gushing in. What a mess her life is, she thought.

Reconciled to her fate, Natasha kept herself occupied, sewing and painting. She was excellent at needlework, and handicraft. The beautiful baby linen, table mats and flowers she made, she would give away as gifts. Almost every evening, if the weather was good she would sit in the garden, at the furthest corner, closest to the beach, either stitching or reading. This evening, she decided to complete the cross-stitch design she had started during the time of her friendship with Michael. Each time she put in a few stitches, and the picture was taking shape, she would put it away, as it brought sadness into her.

It was a fine evening. The birds were flying in the sky, and the wind was gently playing against her face. She worked on the cross-stitch deftly, putting the needle in, pulling it out, with the coloured threads forming crosses, threads of different hues, light and dark, blending beautifully. She was so absorbed in her stitching, that she hardly lifted her head, even as the trains rushed by.

The cross-stitching was completed. It was such a beautiful scene of two birds perched atop the branch of a tree which was in full bloom. She could now show it to Sakunthala, her next door neighbour’s child, who had asked her many a time as to why she was not completing it, and what the completed picture would be.

Natasha cut the last strands of thread, and dusted the material. She saw the cut pieces of thread fly high in the breeze, little pieces flying hither and thither, like her shattered hopes. She held it high, and had a last look at it. She couldn’t fight back the tears that gushed out. The sun in its evening splendour, robed in a fiery orange, with rays of brilliant, bright, golden yellow, sinking slowly in the distant horizon, presented a sight so beautiful.

The continuous breaking of the foaming billows against the rocks sent forth a long stream of spray. A boat with a hoisted sail was gliding away.

Open arms

“Michael is so far, far away, over the seas”, she spoke to herself. She carefully folded the material to put it into her bag, together with her sewing box.

Menika would come at anytime, to take her home, as was usual. Yes, she saw her coming with a quickened pace. Perhaps Amma has chided her for, getting a little late. She was saying something aloud. Perhaps she was giving an excuse.

“Loku Nona is crying. She’s emotionally moved.”

What is she saying, wondered Natasha. Just as she was about to take up her crutch, there was a gentle touch on her shoulder. She looked up. Was she dreaming? Michael was looking straight into her face. “Michael it’s you!” she gasped in disbelief. He took the crutch away - “from now on, I will be your support, forever,” he said.

Menika, her eyes wet with tears, watched Michael slowly lead Natasha up the garden path. Mrs. Silva was at the entrance to their home, with open arms, to welcome them.