Reach out to me, por favor!

She was just another story for all those who were present in the dark alley on the first floor of our hostel that night. I still remember a pair of stiffened legs hanging in the air and a stool lying upside down in the centre of the room. That was just a glimpse of what had happened amidst all sighs I could hear. She was the one who lived a few rooms away from ours. Never had seen her talking or smiling. No one from our batch knew even her name. What we knew was that she had been a failure for 4 successive years. I had noticed that her room had been locked for months till 2 days back when I found her sipping tea in the corner table of the hostel mess late evening. No pleasantries were exchanged even though there were only two of us. The deafening silence at that time was broken by a thud as a black cat jumped inside from a window which was left open accidentally. 

The same silence and quiver was felt by me during the condolence meeting called by the college administration in the HONOUR of the departed soul where a great teacher remarked ' at least she could have tried one more time before taking this extreme step'.

What hurt me was the agony of being left alone she might have felt. All her batchmates were post graduates by then and the rest juniors considered as useless burden on the hostel economy! That was our first semester and till date I have not forgiven myself that I too was no different to her. 

The lesson I learnt from that incident had a lasting impact on me which I realised when I came to visit this house in the present city where I live now. The house is big and is second in the lane just next to a bigger one which is in shambles. The corner house is occupied by an old woman who lives on her own  after her children DESERTED her ( as told by our other neighbours).

So the story began with the property dealer showing me this house which we later bought. As I was standing with him in the balcony on the first floor and he was describing the advantages of a park facing villa, I noticed a lean woman wearing a faded Saree near our common boundary. The man standing beside me was quick to remark ' pagal hai, 3-4 saal kee baat hai, Phir to yeh wala bhee bik jaayega'.

I retorted back with the harshest possible words and told him that no one could ever foresee what lied ahead of us as we grew older. At least she could take care of herself and was leading a respectable life.

We shifted in this new house during October that year. I felt that the lady would just hide down on seeing me and this behaviour along with her strange demeanour which I often felt while walking across the road made me have this idea that I would go to any length to bring her to normalcy. My domestic help told me that except for the ragpickers , she hardly spoke to any neighbour and no one had visited her for years. 

Strange is the society and stranger are our ways of dealing. We go to temples and bargain with the God for favours but leave our elders next doors waiting for them to perish and some how get hold of their assets at the minimal possible price in the most convenient way.

I decided to be the change that we wish and expect from others most of the times.

I started saying namaste to her every morning to which she never reciprocated. It continued for about 20 days when I saw her smiling. My day was made. She opened up gradually and over the last two years we smile as our eyes meet and have spent trillions of seconds talking and laughing out together.

She is very religious and loves watching tv, performs all her house hold duties too. Contrary to the beliefs of others who live next door, her elder son and a daughter visit her every 3-4 months. When I feel lonely and left out, I have this feeling of security that a lady of my father's age lives next door. She is now always there to guide me, teach me lessons from her countless experiences that how once a wife of a reputed govt officer came down to lead such a shoddy life. But such are the ways of life and fate.

Last year she told me that I make up for her daughter and daughter - in- law both. That was one of the biggest moments for me in the last few years.

Life had been a great lesson for me. During these difficult days, this old and fragile lady is my strongest pillar of support. I am thankful to God for the grace that has been showered upon me in this FORM.

Whom people generally rebuke or reject as pagal or chaatu or chipku or always crying, whining, pining for attention also needs help as much as a cancer /terminal patient does. I also need help and would not hesitate asking for it if I feel some one is capable of that sort. But one can not force or beg some one else for a little succour. 

If some one does that, does it not mean that he is asking for one more chance to live, to survive amidst all adversities; that last chance that my professor once spoke about...