GLASS BANGLES – Capt. PREM G NATH

I was just closing up my consultation for the day when I saw a missed call from Kumar listed on my mobile. I had seen my last patient and was preparing to go home from my clinic. As a Consulting Psychiatrist, I had a reasonably good number of patients and did my consultations in my clinic, a two-room office in a commercial complex located on M G Road in Kochi. My man Friday was Ravi who would open the clinic daily by 4 pm, clean up the place, list out the patients for the day and close up after I left. The income was really good– people paid a lot to be reassured that they were sane! I was a middle-aged bachelor with affordable vices and was able to live a life, bordering on luxury, and not crossing the line into wantonness.
Kumar was the son of my friend and my brother- in- law, Raghuvaran, now a widower. I had been his student for my degree course, when he was a young and popular lecturer. My sister Rekha had also been studying in the same college, my senior by two years. During those days I used to meet Raghuvaran twice a week for his lectures on Sociology, which was one of my subsidiary subjects for the degree. We had a strictly student-teacher relationship for the first few months until I was called by him one day to the staff room. There were only the two of us in the room as the other lecturers had gone to their classes. He did not waste time and told me that he and my sister were in love. He wanted to get married to her and wanted my permission, since I was Rekha’s only brother. I did not know whether to be shocked, angry or happy but the fact was that I liked this guy and found nothing wrong in him becoming my sister’s husband. I would always remember the way he described my sister that day in the staff room.
“Rakesh, do you know that your sister speaks very little but her bangles do the talking for her?” I knew he was referring to the fad my sister had of wearing glass bangles on both hands, matching the sari or churidhar she wore on a particular day.
“They tinkle and emote,” he continued with a dreamy look in his eyes, “In fact I can spend hours just listening to the tinkle of her bangles and watching her beautiful eyes.”
I immediately knew that the chap was crazily in love with my sister, whose bangles I had only observed to “speak” when she raised her hands to fling anything in her hand at me, whenever I made her angry. I loved my only sister and eventually became the ‘meghdoot’ for both, carrying their love letters, and was their strongest supporter when their issue reached the ears of our parents. The marriage took place after clearing a few hiccups like any other “love marriage”. They lived happily for three decades, madly in love with each other, with my sister continuing to wear her glass bangles. They had one son, my nephew Kumar, whom I had sort of adopted as my son.
A few months earlier, my sister Rekha fell ill suddenly and was diagnosed with dengue. The end came suddenly and the doctor told us that as she was in her fifties her resistance to the virus was very weak, causing her death. My brother- in- law and friend Raghuvaran, who was devastated by the death of his wife, continued to stay with his son and his family in their flat. I would visit them almost every alternate day and spend an hour with Raghuvaran reminiscing about the days gone by and return to my bachelor apartment or that of my girlfriend, after dinner.
When I saw the series of missed calls from my nephew Kumar, I knew that there was something serious which had to be talked over phone and not messaged. I called Kumar who as I had assumed, sounded very upset and wanted me to come home at the earliest. I did not have any inkling of the problem in store, and soon was in the car park of Kumar’s apartment having driven there in my car. Kumar was waiting for me near the car park and instead of going up to his flat on the sixth floor, took me to the visitors lounge on the ground floor.
Kumar appeared to be agitated and tense. “There is something very wrong with dad,” he said. The young chap looked very upset. “He sits all by himself in his room most of the time, only coming out for his food.”
“That’s usual in husbands who have lost their wives,” I comforted him. “Just leave him alone and give him time to recover.”
“Uncle,” my nephew said “He was all right for the past three months since mummy died and it’s only during the past week that he has been behaving like this.” There were tears in Kumar’s eyes when he said this.
“He not just sits in his room but we have heard him speak behind closed doors, and he appears to be having some sort of a conversation.”
“Conversation! What conversation?” I asked slightly bewildered.
“He seems to be speaking to mummy. We have heard him address the other in his conversation by mummy’s pet name ‘Janu’ which daddy used to call her.” Tears were freely flowing now from Kumar’s eyes.
“Don’t worry, Kumar,” I told him. “This is a phenomenon that is at times observed in widowers. Your dad must be hallucinating about your mother. He will get over it. Let me take care of it.”
We went inside the flat and Raghuvaran was happy to see me. I took him aside and told him that we should go to his room, maybe have a drink and talk, to which he readily agreed. Raghuvaran had always loved his drink but his passion for liquor was always under control. However, the once in a while drink that he had, was one of the few things which he and his wife never saw eye to eye with each while she was alive.
I observed that Raghuvaran appeared to have recovered from the pale self he had become following his wife’s death. Though nearing sixty, he still looked handsome, his unruly thick hair streaked with grey falling on his forehead every time he bent his head. He quickly got out a bottle of good scotch from the almirah in his room and placed it on the small table beside his cot. We sat on the two chairs in his room and waited for Kumar’s wife Geetha to get us some soda and ice. Geetha soon appeared with the soda, ice and snacks, all arranged on a tray and left saying that we were to call her in case we wanted anything else.
With a drink in my hand I straight away asked Raghuvaran, “What is it Bhai, you lock yourself in your room, rarely coming out! Are you drinking secretly? Your son is really upset. Anything bothering you?”
Raghuvaran smiled and replied “My dear Rakesh, I shut myself in my room because I get a feeling that I am not wanted.”
“Come on,” I said “Your son, his wife and grandson love you, or rather adore you. They will never let you feel not wanted.”
“Yes, I know they love me but they are in their own worlds and therefore I sought mine in my room,” he replied leaving me with a slightly puzzled look on my face.
“Come, I will show you what I meant,” he said, and took me to the half-opened door of his room from where we could see the drawing room.
“Look,” he said, and pointed to the drawing room where the rest of the family was sitting. My psychiatric training made me immediately understand what he had meant when he said that he was “not wanted”. His nine-year-old grandson Vivek was glued to the TV watching a popular cartoon. His daughter-in-law Geetha busy on her mobile, probably whatssapping, while his son was working on a power point presentation on his tablet.
I knew this was a typical modern day problem-elders being left out as the new generation keep themselves busy with their electronic devices. We returned to the table and I told Raghuvaran that the issue would get sorted out but he should then spend time outside. He promised me that there was nothing else, and after a couple of drinks I took leave of him.
Kumar came along with me to the car park, eager to know what had transpired between his dad and me. I told him that his dad was feeling left out, explaining the scene in the drawing room which I had witnessed earlier. Kumar, a bright boy, quickly grasped the problem and assured me that his father would no longer be made to feel unwanted. He would talk to Geetha, who I knew was a doting daughter-in-law and set things right. I took leave of him and proceeded to have my rendezvous with my longtime girlfriend.

A couple of days later, Kumar called me and told me that they had planned to go on a short weekend visit to Ooty the coming Saturday, to be with Geetha’s brother. His dad had excused himself and wanted to stay at home. Kumar did not want to leave his dad alone at home and asked me whether I could stay in his flat at night during the weekend. I had planned to be with my lady friend for the weekend but not wanting to disappoint Kumar, readily agreed to go over to his house on Saturday night.

On Saturday I was in Kumar’s flat where Raghuvaran was all alone and told him jokingly that I had come to baby sit him, meaning that I would stay the night in the flat. He had known of the arrangement but vehemently told me that I need not stay the night.
“I know you spend your weekends with Rachel,” he said. He knew about Rachel, my girlfriend, and had always been happy with the relationship.
“What you do is, have a drink or two with me, and then go home to Rachel. I will take care of myself,” he said and went to get the bottle along with the soda.
The room appeared to be unusually chilly though the AC was not on. It had probably been on earlier and he, Raghuvaran may have switched it off just before I came home. The chill made the prospect of a drink more welcome.
I feebly tried to tell Raghuvaran that I would stay the night and keep him company but he would have none of it. Honestly, I didn’t need much persuasion from Raghuvaran not to stay the night in his flat to keep him company. Raghuvaran was a grown man and I knew that Kumar was just being apprehensive about his father like any good son would be. We had a few drinks and Raghuvaran soon showed me to the door to enjoy my tryst with Rachel.
I opened the main door, stepped out, and had to bend down to wear my shoes left outside. Raghuvaran was standing in the open door and I could see the doorway of his room past his body, as I bent down to slip my feet into my shoes. When I raised my head after putting on my shoes I suddenly saw a shadow that appeared to be that of a lady, on the wall of Raghuvaran”s room. I knew that I was not drunk but for a moment was disoriented. I straightened myself, and had another look at the wall inside his room but there was nothing to be seen. Raghuvaran seeing me stare at his room, looked behind him, then turned back and smilingly told me, “Rakesh, you better leave. Your girl must be waiting.”
I was a bit confused because I had an eerie feeling that somebody was in his room. My brain, fed on psychiatry told me that it was just a play of light and imagination. I shook hands with my friend, bade good night and had barely taken a step away from the door, when I heard a sound that sent a tingle of horror through my body. I could plainly hear the tinkle of bangles coming from inside Raghuvaran”s flat, as though a woman was moving her hands covered with glass bangles. I did not dare turn around and I heard Raghuvaran hurriedly close the door, as if he had just been waiting for me to leave. He had wanted me to spend the evening with Rachel but I now knew with whom he was going to spend the long cold night.
The tinkle of bangles kept ringing in my head as I got into the lift on the way down to the car park.

Capt. Prem G Nath- Has published two collections of short stories- ‘Twists and Turns’ and ‘Thrills & Chills’