LONDON

Summer, 2012.

“May God be kind upon his soul! Amen!”

The chants of mourning rose in the air, all at once. The girls, dressed in their finest blacks, covered their faces mourning in grief. A large gathering huddled together near the grave to see him for one last time as the priests ordered the coffin to be lowered.

“Bryan! Oh, my Bryan!” a girl squealed in agony, choking over her tears as she sprawled her arms around his coffin, sobbing loudly.

Linda stood near the grilled gate of the Hoop Cemetery, and watched in silence whatever she could from where she stood. She took a step forward, but looked at the two guards, who extended their hand and shook their heads. For the first time in her life, she was overwhelmed with jealousy- jealousy for the girl who still moaned on Bryan’s coffin. Envy ran furiously in her veins; she wanted to barge in, push the girl away and see him- one last time, before he was gone to the elements, but she couldn’t. They wouldn’t allow her. And so, her envy, her rage and her helplessness oozed out from her hazel eyes, but even they betrayed her that day, for as they rolled down her cheeks, they were lost in the rain drops falling from the heavens above.

She stood in silence, looking with an unwavering gaze as they lowered the coffin and covered it with wet soil.

He is gone.

The gathering began to disperse after murmuring their prayers and when they passed the gate, they passed a strange look at Linda- a look that she would never forget- a look of disgust, of malice and worst of all, accusation.

“You killed him! You one disgusting hell of a person, you bloody killed him!” the girl who had been near the coffin screamed at Linda holding her by her arms and shaking her violently. “How shameless are you? Why the hell are you even here? To see if you did your job well or not? You killed my Bryan…” she broke off, drowning into tears.

“Maria, please, pull yourself hon,” an elderly woman came to her rescue, who, Linda thought, was her mother. “Linda cared for him too. They loved each other. You must not say this to her—”

“Love!” Maria said, incredulously and scoffed slightly, “Love- my foot! If she had ever loved him, she wouldn’t have let him die. Why the hell were you not dead too, you gutter-rat? Why the hell weren’t you dead that day?”

Linda looked up to meet her best friend’s accusing, contemptuous gaze. She was hurt- Maria was. In a single day, she had lost her brother and a friend.

But what could she even say? For a whole of 24 hours, all she had thought was the same- Why hadn’t she been dead too? Why had the heavens played such a game with her; they’d let her live, but had taken away the reason she lived- Bryan- her love, her life, her everything. From the moment she had known that she had survived the crash, she cursed herself for surviving.

But survival, was in her blood. All her life, she’d been a survivor- a survivor of abuse when she was born, a survivor of hatred when her parents separated on the grounds of her being an unwanted girl child, a survivor of her mother’s drunkenness and scathing taunts and accusations for being wretched, a bad omen to good times- but she’d always survived.

She extended a comforting hand towards Maria who shoved it away vehemently.

“Don’t you even dare bring your wretched hands on me!” She held Linda’s hands tightly and said, looking straight into her eyes, “These hands, it was these hands that killed him, no? These hands that turned the steering the wrong way and crashed his car? These hands that my brother held so lovingly and what did you do? You turned them against him!” She jerked off her hands violently. “I curse you Linda, I pray you never find anyone to hold them- I wish to hell, the Gods or Satan himself that you never find anyone who could hold your hands ever again. Do not ever try to show up near his grave, ever!”

She strode past her, her mother looked grim and hollow and soon followed her daughter. After everyone departed, the gates of the cemetery were closed- for the day and forever for her.

3 months later

“Patient 101, yeah, she’s tried it again,” the operator said to the doctor. “It’s the third time this month, sir. It’s very difficult to stop her.”

“What’s her name?”

“Linda- Linda Wilde. It’s been close to 2 months since she’s in the hospital. She came here for the first time with her wrists slit; her neighbor informed on time, or we could have lost her. There have been over ten doctors, sir, you’re the eleventh, no one’s been able to understand her. She never speaks, just sits like a rock all day long, looking outside through the window. She’s excessively violent towards anything that reflects to show her face. She hates seeing herself. She smashed over three mirrors and twelve milk bottles and tried to kill herself with the shards. Even her windows don’t have glass panes.”

Dr. Nash nodded to himself, putting a finger near his chin.

“I want to see her- take me to her cubicle.”

The operator hesitated, but upon a firm look from the doctor, he hustled past the corridors.

Dr. Nash opened the door to her cubicle. Linda didn’t budge, didn’t even move to see who had entered. She kept looking out, way beyond the buildings to nothingness.

“Ms. Wilde?”

Her face didn’t flicker. Upon another addressal, she turned to look at Dr. Nash.

Her hazel eyes had turned lifeless, morose, her face had fallen flat, pale as if they’d never felt the twitch of a smile in a long time. Her hair looked matted; she almost looked like a living-dead woman.

“May I sit?”

Linda turned to look away, outside the window. Dr. Nash took a small stool and seated himself. He smiled at her, but she didn’t respond. He scanned her body- her wrists in particular were heavily bandaged. He looked at her a long time, but she didn’t flicker a second. Following her gaze, Dr. Nash saw her looking at a group of young children who played cricket in the gardens.

“There, that’s a six!” Dr. Nash exclaimed. Linda looked momentarily at Dr. Nash, but resumed watching the game.

“Will you talk to me, Linda? Talking helps relieve the mind, my child.”

Linda’s features didn’t change at all, she was almost rock-like stoic in silence.

“Okay then,” Dr, Nash sighed. “We’ll try some other day. You know Linda, I am very well aware of the number of doctors who’ve treated you- but I am not like the others. I wish to help you, genuinely. And I give you my word, I wouldn’t go until I help you, my child. But for that, I need you to talk. Of course, I can’t force you. Hence, later. Alright? When you wish.”

He smiled and turned to leave.

“They play well.”

Dr. Nash turned towards Linda, who spoke while she looked out.

“Yes?”

“They play well, these children. I like watching them. Today one of their team mates is absent. They’ve called up a substitute- but he’s playing well too.”

Dr. Nash smiled and sat on the stool he had vacated minutes ago.

“You like cricket?”

Linda nodded, subtly.

It had been Bryan’s favorite sport.

“You like these children?”

Linda looked at Dr. Nash and nodded again.

“Would you like to be in the children’s ward then? For some time during the day? It might bring you a welcoming change from this boring room.”

Linda’s face twitched awkwardly. In the months that she’d lived in the hospital, it was the first time someone was volunteering to ask for what she wanted and not imposing on her what they wanted. She wanted to smile, but her muscles had apparently forgotten how it was to be done.

Dr. Nash ordered a nurse to take her to the children’s ward and asked for her cubicle to be repainted with brighter, fresher colors.

Upon entering the ward, she looked around at the heads that turned to see her. Some brown, some white, some bald, some bright. But all of them had a thing in common- an air of welcoming acceptance. She entered the room frailly and sat on a small bench near the beds. Every eye was turned towards her. She squirmed in her seat and hid her bandaged wrists.

Just then, almost as a relief to her misery, the door opened and someone barged in. The moment it happened, the room broke into a thundering applause and energy, with the kids jumping out of their beds and dancing merrily.

“Hola!” a deep, jovial voice said. “How are we doing today, kiddos?”

Linda stood up from her seat and saw a clown- a man dressed as a clown- with a cliché red nose and a stupid looking red- yellow polka dotted hat and a yellow-blue ill-fitting jumpsuit.

The ‘clown’ stopped momentarily and walked towards her. Linda fidgeted as he breathing paced.

“Hello, young lady. Nice to see you here! Are you an overgrown twelve-year-old or fifteen?”

“Neither.”

“Oh, ten would be too young for you,” he said, and all the kids erupted in a manic laughter.

Linda hung her head down.

“You here to see my act? To laugh?” he asked.

Linda looked up with hooded eyes.

“Ah! Don’t worry young lady, I sell happiness- in bountiful overlarge sacks. Laughter is the best medicine, isn’t it, kiddos?”

All of them replied in unison.

“What’s your name?”

“Linda,” she whispered.

“Okay, Linda, brace yourself to roll on the floor laughing out loud- or what do you, funky people call it now?”

“ROFLOL.” The kids laughed and clapped.

With this, he went to take center stage. All the kids thronged around him in small groups, clapping and laughing at his jokes, which Linda found out of taste.

“And see me spin magic. Now the young lady in there you see,” he said to the children, pointing at Linda. “I am going to give her a rose.”

He said a mantra and with a childish euphoria, retrieved a rose from his polka hat. The children erupted with glee and clapped their hands till they became red. Linda clapped too and to her surprise, she realized she had been smiling too! Her cheeks hurt initially, but soon they seemed to have realized the sensations of a smile.

The ‘clown’ approached her with the rose and gave it to her. Linda smiled and took the rose, but soon her smile faded as she saw her face in the glass brooch he’d been wearing. Her breathing pulsated as she clenched the rose tighter till blood oozed from her palms.

“You’re okay, Linda?” the ‘clown’ asked, holding her shoulders.

She looked into his eyes, beyond the makeup and saw her glimpse in his eyes. That was her undoing. She broke into a hysterical cry, shivering and jolting back and forth.

The kids stopped laughing, the cries grew louder and in moments, she was ushered back to her room.

She didn’t step out of her room for the next three days. Dr. Nash visited her frequently, but she had resorted back to being the rock she had been before. He arranged some books for her- to read in the days when it was raining and the kids didn’t come out to play in the gardens.

One book, in particular seemed to have met her fancy- ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ She had been reading it for the past three days and was almost half way through. It seemed she’d found a new friend. She laughed and cried the way Hazel and Augustus did.

That evening, someone knocked at her door.

“Linda?”

Linda immediately turned towards the door. She knew the voice well- it belonged to the ‘clown’ who’d made her laugh.

But the person who came in wasn’t dressed in the funny looking clothes. He didn’t have the stupid make-up on. Instead, in a white full sleeved t-shirt and blue jeans, he looked at her. He had bright blue eyes and a genial looking face.

“May I come in?”

Linda nodded, passively.

“How are you doing?” He stepped closer and sat near the bed, then arching his neck, he looked at the book in her hand and smiled, “Okay?”

Linda’s face brightened up.

He’s read the book.

Avoiding his eyes, her lips twitched and said, “Okay.”

Chuckling a little, he said, “You resort to reading these boring books when there’s so much of entertainment outside?”

“It’s not boring. I like this.”

“Uh- the lead guy dies in the end, you know. It can’t be more boring. He just leaves his girl with a stupid funeral. Boring stuff.” He shrugged.

Linda looked into his face, furiously. The one thing she hated the most in the world were spoilers. She shut the book close and turned away, utterly irritated.

“Woo! You look vexed.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

She sat up on her bed and said, “Because it’s not boring and you spoiled the joy of this book for me. How can you say it’s boring? What according to you is fun, huh? Some stupid vulgar comics?”

“That’s got to be longest monologue from you I’ve ever heard,” he said, smiling dryly. “You like reading books? Student of English Lit?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Phew! You are pretty vexed. I see. What could be done to refresh your mood?” He thought for a while and looked at Linda who sat passively, looking at the kids in the garden.

“You like cricket, don’t you?”

Linda nodded.

“Then come with me, let’s walk around the gardens and play cricket.”

Linda’s face drew a total blank. She almost felt as if he were a mad-man.

“What?” he shrugged. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“I can’t, possibly—”

He held her hand and pulled her out of bed.

“You’re coming with me, right now. Okay?”

Linda looked down, making sure not to see him in the eye.

“Okay?” he repeated.

“Okay.”

Strolling down the gardens, Linda felt as if she were free- away from the shackles of the world. She took a deep breath- petrichor is heavenly.

Bryan loved it so much.

As she began to go frail, he took her hand and seated her on a bench.

“What’s your name?”

“Callum- Callum Miller.”

Linda nodded.

Callum sat next to her on the bench and breathed heavily.

Linda looked at him, and felt that he seemed to have lost some weight. Very uncanny given it had been just three days.

Must be high on the gym.

“What do you do Mr. Miller?”

“Callum.”

“Okay, Callum.”

Callum breathed heavily and said, “I sell happiness- in bountiful overlarge—”

“Sacks?”

Callum laughed. “You remember.”

“Apart from that?” Linda asked.

A dark emotion crossed his face. Sighing deeply, he said, “I was a student at Imperial College- engineering. I had to quit though.”

“Why?”

Callum looked away, swallowing a bit. “Umm- let’s just say I got bored. I like seeing people happy, you know. I like happy people- who smile. Life is too short to sulk at lost or unfortunate opportunities. It’s about making it count- yesterday, today, every day. And that’s what I aim for.”

Linda nodded dreamily.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Linda flustered greatly.

“Hey!” Callum said, putting his hand on her wrists- bandaged wrists. “Don’t worry. No judgements. Besides, I will be the last person in the world to judge people.”

Linda narrated. Everything. All the things she could never bring herself to face, were right out of her mouth going into the ears of a total stranger. Perhaps, that’s what they say about strangers. You can tell them everything without the fear of the judgments.

“I killed Bryan. It was the first time I had been driving. He had insisted it was too early, but I argued against it. I was thrilled by speed, and I jumped the signal. A lorry from the other side rammed into the car. I thought I was dead. I wanted to be dead. But I woke up three hours later and Bryan never did.

“The thrill of speed crippled my life forever. I killed my love, my negligence killed him. I did not want to live- I hoped I were dead and—”

“And so, you did this.” Callum said, lifting her bandaged wrists. “You wanted to kill yourself.”

Linda broke into tears, that flowed without stopping. They seemed to carry the pains of her heart that could not be carried away that rainy morning of Bryan’s funeral.

“Linda,” he said, holding her in her arms. “Life is unpredictable. One can never be sure. But you know what- it’s a gift. It’s meant to be lived, spent, cherished. You got that gift that day, unfortunately he didn’t. It’s his life that you got- and you got to live for both of you now. Wouldn’t Bryan be hurt if he knew you were blowing away the life, he gave you?”

“Love is crazy, okay? But not that crazy that you’d die? Life is more important. Your Augustus from the book would end up telling you the same.”

“Love is nothing, these days-more like a contract. You know, Bryan and I used to believe that if mankind really wishes to learn the true principles of life- they should turn to the natural elements. Love- it is what the sunflower has for the sun- it turns every day, everywhere to face the sun; It is what the moth has for the light- it knows it’ll die from the heat, but still wishes to live life that way.

Democracy- it is what fire has for all people- no matter who you are- rich, poor, man, woman, child, old- it treats everyone in the same way. But today—”

“Yes? Today?” Callum said, intrigued to hear more.

Linda searched the park.

“There,” she said, pointing to a young couple sitting near the fountain, “You think these people will be here the next year with each other? They promise of love, but I bet my life that you’d find them with different people the next month.”

“Phew! Take it easy, Linda. Your life is too precious to bet on.”

Callum looked into her eyes. A strange feeling pulled the strings in the deep recesses of Linda’s heart. Something felt different. She didn’t feel so lost, so lonely right now. She didn’t feel an urge to run away right now. Instead, she felt she could end up looking into Callum’s eyes for several years if offered to do so. “You didn’t,” Callum said.

“What?”

“You didn’t back off and turn your eyes away when you looked at me. You didn’t cry, howl when you saw your face in my eyes. You’re changing for the better.”

Linda realized he had been right. She hadn’t. But why? What was this strange zap of feelings that seemed to have traversed between them and strung her heart?

And they met- every day. Sometimes in the children’s ward, sometimes in the garden. But they met daily- talking, walking, laughing.

“Callum,” Dr. Nash called him into his office one day. “A word with you, please.”

Callum excused himself and met him.

“Callum, Linda is improving. She is getting finer by the day. What no doctor could do- you have managed to do. She feels happy, safe and protected when she’s with you. You know, I am a psychologist. I can feel something happening in her heart. Certain emotions are surfacing. Wouldn’t you want to tell her? How long would you keep her in the dark?”

“Not now, Dr. Nash,” Callum hushed and pleaded. “Not now. Tomorrow is Linda’s birthday. I want it to be special. I wish to throw her a proper party. I will tell her after that. Let me live that, please. I want to see the light in her eyes when she sees it.”

Dr. Nash nodded and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Young man, Linda is lucky to have you. But tell me, do you feel the same for her the way she does for you?”

“What, Doctor?” Callum smiled, coyly.

“Don’t be so obtuse Callum, you know what I mean.”

“I got to go, doctor. See you around.”

He exited the cubicle, leaving Dr. Nash smiling behind. Within moments, he resurfaced in the cubicle.

“Dr. Nash… Yes.” He said, smiling gaily.

The next afternoon saw everyone doing great hard work in preparing for the party. The kids in the ward looked lively and cheerful; they were all happy, if not for the party then, because they’d be given hot cross buns and cold drinks instead of the mundane porridge and celeriac soup.

Callum made all the arrangements himself. Linda was put into treatment that day. Hence, he had all the time and resources to get the work done. The whole day Linda sulked as nobody had remembered to wish her. Callum had not come to meet her that day. Upset by this, she slept in her bed and began to weep. Suddenly, Dr. Nash entered the cubicle and ordered the nurses to dress her up as there was something ‘special’ that day. Without revealing much, he walked out of the cubicle.

Linda was dressed in a red chiffon gown; she was insisted to see how beautiful she looked, with the hair combed and arranged, cheeks red and face healthy, but she still refused to see the mirrors. When she stepped into the hall, she figured it was pitch dark. She could see absolutely nothing. Just then, a roar of ‘Happy Birthday’ seared through the silence and the hall flooded with a plethora of lights. The kids recited their ‘Happy Birthday song’ and presented handmade cards to her. Linda smiled joyously, thanking each one of them, but her eyes were desperate to find Callum.

Where was he?

Almost on cue, he entered the room, wearing a black tuxedo and with a huge cake.

“A rose for my rose,” he said, presenting it to her. Linda smiled at him.

“That’s all you brought for me?” she teased.

Callum smiled mischievously. Suddenly, he started shivering.

“Callum, are you okay?” she said, putting her hand on his arm. He nodded.

“Callum, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you’ve been in the gym longer than you’ve been in the dining hall. You look so weak, tad skinny too. Please eat something. For me. Okay?”

Callum smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes and nodded.

After cutting the cake and eating a bit, Callum held Linda’s hand and said,

“Do you want to see your real gift?”

Linda’s eyes sparkled. “So, there is a real gift, huh?”

Holding hands, they excused themselves to the garden and stood near the fountain.

“Close your eyes.”

Linda laughed playfully. She said, “Callum, I’m no kid, show it.”

“Don’t spoil it, Linda! Close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

Linda closed her eyes and became responsive to every sound her ears could perceive. The rustling of the leaves became more distinct when the eyes couldn’t see; Callum’s footsteps became more pronounced when she couldn’t see. When one of your senses don’t cooperate, the others make up for it.

“Open your eyes now, Linda.”

As she opened her eyes, her smile turned into horror, for right before her stood a huge mirror.

“Callum! No,” she said, shutting her eyes abruptly.

“No, no Linda. See yourself. I want you to see how you look today. Everyone says you look pretty, but to me, you look like an angel who’s come right from the heavens for me. I want you to see how beautiful and astounding you are. Don’t shy away. You didn’t move when you saw your face in my eyes.”

“Callum—”

“Just once, for me. Okay?”

Linda opened her eyes and looked at herself after seemed, like an eternity.

“When I saw you for the first time, those eyes looked so sad, so morose. Look at them now. They sparkle with light. Those cheeks,” he said, as he pointed to her reflection, “Those seemed to have been untouched by your smile- your angelic smile. I see that now, in all its glory.”

Tears welled up in Linda’s eyes. Callum turned her to his side and looked into her eyes.

“You know the first time I saw you; I knew there was something different about you. The way you spoke, talked. Your eyes, your hair—”

“My hair?” Linda laughed.

“Listen, don’t spoil it. I prepared hard for it. Don’t break the flow.”

“It seemed as if divinity was in motion. As you walked, I could feel—”

“The aura of my presence?” Linda arched a brow, cocking her head and smirking playfully.

“Yeah,” Callum asked, in surprise. “How do you know?”

Linda burst out in laughter. “God, Callum. Those are Michael Jackson’s lines. You’re seriously using his lines to propose to me?”

“I have an idea then, my way,” he smirked and retrieved his phone from his pocket and set Presley’s ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.’

“Dance with me. I always dreamt of a day when I’d get to do this. My childhood dreams.”

Linda extended her hand and together they danced, beat by beat, step by step as Presley crooned away the melody. Hand in hand, they swayed along, not even close to perfection, but it didn’t matter for the two souls danced into each other’s hearts that night and became one. Not leaving each other’s gaze, they were unconscious to everything other than themselves. The music was slowing, the song was almost over, but they couldn’t stop dancing.

“I love you, Linda. Look, I am not your Augustus or Bryan, but I love you to the stars and back,” Callum said as they danced.

“I love you too Callum. I never thought I could love again, but you made me realize how pious love is. How important it is to love oneself than loving anyone else and you taught me that. Thank you for coming into my life, Callum. I love you so much.”

They embraced each other, lost into a realm where time, relations, right and wrong, all of it were metaphysical.

“Let’s get you back to the hall, it’s pretty cold,” Callum said, offering his hand which Linda took.

No sooner had they taken two steps, than Callum’s feet began to waver. He started to shiver. Linda pulled on to him, but he kept shivering, shaking vehemently. His legs gave away as he fell on the ground, unconscious, leaving Linda trembling with shock and fear.

“What do you mean by he didn’t let you, Dr. Nash?” Linda cried, deep in pain. “Why didn’t you tell me before? He was dying!”

“Linda, I insisted, but he wanted to see you happy. You’d just started to look happy, live freely, he wanted to prolong that. He had asked me of this evening so that he could tell you how much he loved you.”

“How long, Dr. Nash?” Linda squealed in pain.

“Four months now,” Linda pulled at her hair, crying profusely. “Huntington’s disease. It’s a slow and painful killer.

The body becomes weak, cognitive processes retard—”

“How long do we have?”

“Linda, I can’t say. It just resurfaced recently and it’s severe. It could be any day.”

“No! No!” Linda cried in frustration; she was deeply agonized.

She rushed to his wardroom and watched at him from some distance as the doctors loaded in medicines and glucose in his dilapidating body.

Cupping her mouth, she prayed to the Gods to save him. After the treatment was over, they let her see him. Linda rushed into the room.

He was no longer the strong, cheerful Callum she had known, instead just a weak dying man in injection and syringes.

She lowered her head and wept profusely on his chest.

“Linda,” he said in his semi-delirious state. “Don’t cry.”

He wiped off her tears. “You remember, I like happy people. Don’t cry. That’s the reason I never told you. This- this look of tormention, this look of hopelessness, of fear and misery- it steals me of the very reason I live for- to sell happiness. And boy, I do that in bountiful, overlarge sacks. The last thing I want to see is you crying over my death. You said I taught you to love yourself, if that is so, promise me to honor our love, our friendship, our trust and don’t pull off crazy stunts when I am gone,” he said, pointing to her wrist.

Linda scoffed over her tears. “You’re still joking? When will you be serious?”

“Life is too short to be taken seriously, Linda. If I don’t joke, you’ll keep drenching my shirt with tears that I don’t like. I love you and want you to stay happy. Promise me to be the way I want you to be- strong and happy. Promise me now.”

“I promise. But don’t go. I’ll be alone,” she wept.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll be there- always. We’ll dance in the heavens. The music might slow, the song might end, but we will continue to dance. But, not yet. You’re going to live for us. Now, lie down next to me and put me to sleep. I want to spend every moment with you.”

Linda sung a lullaby for him, barely managing to utter the words over her tears.

The next morning, she woke up to find Callum lifeless. He had died in his sleep, had no pain and lived up to his virtues.

He was buried in the cemetery next to the hospital. Two days later, Linda visited his grave and placed the rose on his grave- the rose he had given her for the first time as the ‘clown’ which had now wilted. On the headstone was written-

Callum Miller

‘I sell happiness- in bountiful, overlarge sacks.’

Linda murmured a prayer and looking up at the sky she said, “The music was slowing, the song was almost over, but we couldn’t stop dancing. But we’ll meet. And dance in the heavens. But not yet, not yet.”