Love and Forgiveness

Mr. Ben Stalls was a man of extraordinary principles and philosophies. According to him, he had acquired them while he struggled with his life, on the streets of Pondicherri where he used work as an assistant of a cobbler. His journey from a seven-year-old child-worker to a sixty-year old business tycoon was not an easy one; climbing the ladder of success, there were time when he had to take a dishonorable step. Looking out of the magnanimous window of his luxurious flat, situated twenty-two stories from the ground, he recalled his forgone days with pride, not disgrace. He now considers those ‘dishonorable’ steps as his pillars of his success.

They say, “What you get from this world is what you give it back”. His life proves this the authenticity of this proverb. He has lived a life bereft of Love; consequently, he never gave love to a soul.

A knock on the door diverted his attention.

“Fielding! Open the door”, he shouted.

The poor servant threw his broom and rushed towards the door. A stout man, of the same age as of Ben entered through the door.

“Hello Ben! I hope I am not late” said our visitor, Mr. Andrew. Despites his coy and witless nature, he has acquired more respect than Ben in the hearts of people. Reason - the kind and caring heart which he posses towards one-and-all, whether the person be his friends, or his enemy. He is always ready to help a person, or give him a piece of advice. There have been cases where people have paid for his care with their scorns and comments, calling him an ‘interferer’. Yet he never loathed any of them – he is too kind to do such a thing.

“Ah! There you are my friend. Pray have a seat.” Ben said.

Ben was recently honored with the title of ‘Business man of the year’. To celebrate the joy, he invited his friends to have dinner with him.

The minute-hand of the clock had to complete two circles before all the nine guests had arrived. Hard-drinks were served by the servants along with French fries and samosas.

Ben was not the only person dwelling the giant flat. Along with him lived his six-year-old grand-daughter, Tina. In her life of solitude, she got solace from servants, especially from Martha, whom she treated not less than she would have treated her own mother.

Ben’s thoughts never matched with those of Tina. He wanted money and respect; she longed for love. The most striking different between them was: she was always ready to change herself to get love, but he wasn’t ready to change himself and give love.

Tina devised a plan to get some love and attention from her grand-father. Ben had a habit of shouting at his servants. The only time when she found him in house was the morning time. For a few days in his presence, she tried to shout on the servants in order to win some attention from him; it was her way of telling him: “Look at me! I am like you. I am not different. I can also shout. Now will you love me?”

Ben would ignored her and leave for office. When she felt that her plan was of no use, she would retire to her room and weep. Then her care-taker, Martha, would enter the room and comfort her. After five minutes, Tina would come out wiping her tears with Martha’s handkerchief and would say a pitiful “Sorry” to the servants.

Tina was told not to come out of her room till the party lasted. She dutifully agreed, and went to sleep an hour prior to the party. Her dreams were usually of unicorns, Bugs Bunny or other characters on cartoon network channel. But, every rose has a thorn, right?

Tina’s dreams were of cartoons; but not always. There had been a few instances when her dreams were frightful enough to wake the dead; or to kill the alive. One such dream she saw that day:

Singing and dancing, Tine enters a dense forest. She stops when her eyes meet that of a young man, who lays wounded besides an oak tree. She fearfully looks at his bleeding leg. He stretches his hand in want of aid. Tine hesitates; then she lifts her hand from her body, and her finger touches that of the man. A black horse comes rushing towards the man. The horse bends his head, his eyes face the ground, the thorn on his forehead points towards the skull of the man, and in an instant, it pierces it. The horse twists left and right, digging his thorn further in the man’s skull. Tina pulls her hand back. The man’s face becomes clearer to her; it is her father. His eyes shrink, and he gazes her. He lifts his hand and points towards her. He says, “You killed me”. Uttering his last words, his head hits the ground; blood comes out of his forehead like a fountain.

Tina woke up shouting “Father! Father!”

She tossed her blanket aside, rushed towards the door, flung it open and—breaking her grandfather’s command—she came out of her room. She crossed the wide corridor, pushed Shella aside, ran to the party-room. She saw Ben standing with his friends, drinking. She ran to him, hugged him and cried with all her might. She placed her cheeks to his round belly and muttered all the happenings of her dream. “Dadu-dadu, a b-b-bad dream—weeps—b-black horse—weeps—k-killed man—weeps—k-killed father—weeps—I-I love fa-father . . .”

Never in his life had Ben felt so embarrassed. Her hands were around his waist, but his were still his pocket, afraid to come out and give some love.

His grand-daughter, in her night-dress, coming to him and hugging him? That too just because of a silly dream? That too in front of his friends? No! It was an insult to him; an insult to his friends; an insult to the whole mankind. How dare she!

In a low voice he said, “Don’t worry – don’t worry. All’s fine. Go back to your room. I am coming there”

She continued with her dream in her broken voice. At last, murdering his patience, he shouted at the top of his voice.

“Go back to your room”

Tina’s cries paused for a second. She ran towards the door of the room, crossed the corridor, pushed Martha aside, ran to her room, and threw herself on her bed. She cried monsoon that day.

In fact, Ben had shouted so loudly, that he wasn’t able to utter a word for five-minutes.

Andrewcame to him and said: “Ben. You were cruel to her. You shouldn’t have shouted like this. She came-“

“Listen, Andrew. I know what to do with my grand-daughter. You needn’t tell me”

To avoid further conversation on the subject, Ben went ahead and joined Mr. Batliwalla and discussed about their business.

The party lasted for only half-an-hour more. Ben was extremely tired and retired himself to his room. He slipped in his night dress, placed a cigar in his mouth and sat down on the chair. For a few minutes he kept still, his mind wandering over some thoughts. Then he stood up and moved towards his small book-shelf. Beginning from the top shelf, right hand-side, he read the name of every book. Unsatisfied, he moved on the next shelf. He picked up Dicken’s Bleak House, kept on the bottom shelf. He went back to his chair, sat down and opened the book. He read one page and closed the book. Agitated, he threw the book on his study-table.

‘Did I do a right thing?’ he thought, ‘Maybe--yes. She shouldn’t have entered the room like this. This was not the right thing to do. If she was scared, she should have called Martha. But sh-she was crying. She has had these dreams before also. Maybe it was quite bad this time.”

He opened the drawer of his study-table, picked up a photo that had laid there for seven years, unperturbed. The man in the picture looked young; he wore small round spectacles, his hair flew in all the directions, and there was a gleaming smile on his cheerful face.

It was his long lost, long forgotten son, John. He was a man of extraordinary genius. He had a personality that attracted every one towards him. In every field he was an adept.

Every frame of that night is still vivid in Ben’s memory. The raindrops were hitting the roof with full vigor, often a zig-zag white light appeared on the sky. He and John were having a quarrel. Ben wanted to send him to Harvard to do MBA. He refused: he wanted to serve the country by joining the army. John did a fatal thing – he hurt Ben’s pride. He was thrown out of the house. Ben was aware of the pouring rain; he was aware John had nowhere to go. He believed that after half-an-hour, John would come back and would agree for Harvard. John went out of the house; he took neither clothes nor money with him. Ben was considered an excellent judge of a company’s future; by looking at the accounts he could judge the future and sustainability of the company in the market. However, this time his judgment was wrong; his misjudges John’s courage. John never came back. Next day, they found his dead body lying next to the canal. Post-modem confirmed his death due to lightning. The memories of his lost son pricked Ben’s heart; just the way his pride did. He thrust the photograph back in the drawer and shut it hard. Tina was a part of John that lived in front of him. She was the only person in this world whom Ben could love; yet he never loved her; he loved his own pride, his own valor.

He stood up and moved towards the door, ‘I think I need to have a discussion with her’

He went to Tina’s room. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and entered the room. He looked all around; Tina was nowhere to be seen. He got worried. He turned back and saw Martha passing by.

“Come here, Martha”

“Yes sir”

“I hope you had watered the plants during the evening? Where is Ramu? He is nowhere to be seen. Why is Tina’s room in such a mess? Where is she?”

Ben mingled his main question in midst of other useless ones. Martha knew that she only had to answer the last one.

“She’s sitting on the veranda, sir”

“O-Ok you can go”

Ben climbed the stairs in a state of frenzy. He changed his mind at every alternate step. Finally, he was upstairs. She was sitting on a bench, with her teddy bear in her hand. He went closer. He called in a soft voice, “Tina”. She stood up, kept the teddy on the chair and looked at Ben. She was afraid--rather shivering. Tears had formed read outlines on her face. Tears only hurt for a minute, but their stains hurt for a longer time.

Ben recognized the gravity of his mistake. Now there was no going back. He had come to apologize, and he would do that.

“Grandpa, I . . . I wanted to talk to you” her voice was quivering.

“Yes”

“I am very, very sorry.”

“No, I—“

“I shouldn’t have disturbed you, it was my fault.” New streams of tears glided down her cheeks, dissolving the previous stain marks, and creating new ones.

Ben was shocked. He knew what he had come for, but he didn’t do it. She waited for Ben to say something.

“It’s ok”, he said

She crossed him and went to her room. He stood there, infected by his fake pride, his hollow valor. He muttered to himself: “She is—just like her father”

A tear trickled down his eye, hit the ground and dissolved with the dust; it took some of his pride with it. He felt he was losing the reminiscent of his lost son. Life was playing with him. For the first time, he felt defeated.