It was an ordinary plastic chair with feeble legs, off-white body and surrounded with a lot of ugly cobwebs around its vicinity. But there was something intriguing about it. I kept looking at it for a few minutes, transfixed until my musings were interrupted by the sound of a telephone. Later on, while relishing the taste of the cardamom tea, I was again looking in the direction of that empty chair, from my balcony.
In retrospect, it had not always been empty. The empty chair belonged to the owner of the shop who died some years ago. As a child, my mom used to send me to fetch some fresh coriander leaves for her special curry, from his shop. I had always seen him on that chair. Apparently, it was the paralysis attack that had taken its toll on him. He had lost his ability to walk or talk and was just stuck to that chair.
10 years later, there I was trying to recollect what I had lost in these years. The chair brought back an amalgam of deserted emotions which I had been struggling to understand. It reminded me of sheer solitude and emptiness. It reminded me of a face that I would never see again and a time which was no longer mine. Essentially, places and people together create memories and losing either of them can create a void and this was the turmoil that I was experiencing internally. The chair longed for its owner and I longed for those memories. Memories which we keep creating unconsciously in every waking moment. These inanimate things are a constant reminder of the long forgotten loved ones and acquaintances to whom we were accustomed to at some point in time. In the end, we are just left with forlorn memories and hopes tied to the wreath of uncanny silence. I averted my eyes from that direction and walked inside to continue with my daily chores.
P.S. Follow your heart. There’s one on the right or left ;)!
