Sooraj

Am I losing my mind again? 

    They call me crazy. It has been several years to that incident, but years hardly define time. I am not sure what we call it scientifically, but it has to have some relationship with relativity because even today the memory of that horrible day is as fresh as a baby’s smile. Ah. Let’s not mention babies. I think I’ve lost the right even over the word. Mothers, they say, give a life. I took away two. Hate me for it, but I wish I could think as casual as I write. Can you believe my children tell me I have hallucinations. I mean, seriously? When I tell them not to make too much of a noise in the corridor, they say they’re watching television. Hah. Do they think their mother is crazy? I neither have children nor television. 

    I’ll tell you all for my heart has lost it now. I can’t think of a punishment or a pain worthy enough. I leave it for you to decide. I found this diary one night in the room of my elder son, Sooraj. I must say his teachers were right. For his age, he was good with the English Language. The cover page read: “Sooraj’s Experiments with Truth”. This was copied. He was a fan of the Mahatma. 

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Page 1 17th May, 2003. 

Dear Diary, 

        Awkward this is. How should I start? I am Sooraj Ahuja, a student of class 6. I am a shy child, i do not have very many friends. Lets be friends, what say? Yes? Great! I’ll write to you whenever I need a friend. And you’ll listen to me. Deal? Done! Now that you’ve decided to be my friend, I’l tell you more about myself. I have a wonderful family. A beautiful mother, a doting father. A brother, Aditya. He is five years younger to me and is always upto some prank. Don't ever go by his looks. As simple as he may seem in his demeanour, trust me, he’s a devil. Mumma knows this, she is the only one in the house, after me of course, who can see his eyes twinkle with mischief even as his mouth is set in a sulky moue. I love him. Mumma loves him pretty much too, but not as much as she loves me. I am her “achha bachha”, her good child. I never tell daddy that she loves Hritik Roshan. She even said that in front of me. I fear daddy will be upset. I once overheard my seniors talking in school. They said love without a relationship fades in somedays. Mumma has not even met Hritik Roshan. Her love too will fade. Never mind. This is enough of an introduction for today now. Got to go, momma calling! Bye! 

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My Sooraj. My heart aches to think of him. I see him behind the door whenever I call for him. I see him hiding, he still is hiding there I know. A good boy he was, my achha bachha. Don’t know whats got onto him these days. He never listens to me. I keep shouting, he runs away. “SOORAJ! I say COME BACK!! Sooraj….Sooraj…Sooraj…SOORAJ….aaaahhh….” 

Did I just sleep? What am I doing here lying on the floor somebody tell me please?! 

Oh. Age. Age is never a loyal friend I tell you. You never know when you grow old. Have you met Mrs Nancy yet? No? Don’t then. As much as a pretty face she is, she is a liar. A Big Time Liar. She lives the door next to me. She used to say age is just a number. My number is 38. And look at me. Do I not look close to 83? 

Ding-Dong. Ding-Dong. 

That must be Sarla. She comes every morning at 9 and stays with me till the evening. She is my husband’s idea of his own replacement. I don’t know where Mr Ahuja is these days. Because of his business meetings, he is mostly out of town. He seldom visits. I don’t blame him, he always has extra on his plate.

 “Good morning Didi! Hey Bhagwan!! How did you get hurt?? Did you fall down? Have you been thinking again? Didi I told you to sleep! And give me this diary. You don’t read it again!” 

“Don’t you touch this Diary Sarla!! Just take me to my bed.” 

Sarla is obedient. From the time I hit her hard with a steel glass, she takes my orders. She has brought be to bed, cleaned me all up and fed me poha. And the diary…well the diary. The diary is Sooraj’s. Did I tell you I hate him. Did I tell him I hate him? 

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“ADITYA!! ADITYA? Oh God!! What did you do to him Sooraj!! Aditya! Did you push him Sooraj? Mr Ahuja!! MR AHUJA!! Come fast!! Sooraj what did you do to him? WHY? Get out! GO GO. Just Go! Aditya my boy…you’ll be fine! Mr Ahuja call the ambulance!! My boy you’ll be just fine…Mr Ahuja did you listen!! CALL THE AMBULANCE! He’s losing blood!” I lost him. My boy, Aditya. They were playing, both of them. Sooraj and Aditya. He fell from the rooftop. Just the way Sooraj fell the next day. I saw him though. I could not stop him. He didn’t listen to me. He was not my boy. Mr Ahuja had brought him from a slum when he was only 6 months. As filthy as the boy was, I loved him. Or did I not? Why did I do this to him? Aah! Sooraj. Sooraj you’re there on the rooftop I can see you. Come here boy, don’t run away from me! Come to mumma. Sooraj NO! Sooraj stop my boy! NO! Sooraj Mumma’s coming….Sooraj hold on. Please don't jump! Sooraj I’m sorry! Mumma loves you! SOORAJ I LOVE YOU MY SON! SOORAJ! SOORAJ!!! 

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