IT’S ALL ON THE CARDS!
-
Shamik
Dhar (India)
The other day, Suman had said, “You never send me
any cards, be it Christmas, New Year’s Eve, or Diwali.”
He was one of those guys who was meticulous in
maintaining these courtesies. I didn’t have any appropriate answer. Frankly
speaking, I am pretty helpless on this issue. It’s not that I forget, nor is it
the lack of interest to keep the fragile flame of friendship burning, but
somehow it always turns out that way.
To tell you the truth, I find it practically
impossible to select a card for a specific personality. Whenever you send a
card to someone it should always have your personal touch, be in accordance
with the tastes of that personality you are sending to, and associated with an
acute aesthetic touch. According to some, the contents of the card do not
matter. They say, “It’s always the love that is associated with it.” I beg to
differ on this issue because, it is always the contents of the cards that
matters. That is probably why so many
card shops have sprouted up.
I am completely lost whenever I enter a card shop.
The sheer bulk of the cards arranged neatly in the racks tend to confuse me.
Even though, there are various sections on the racks that classify the cards.
They tend to highlight the colour of the changing festive occasions and the
changing seasons of the heart but also in accordance to the myriad confusion of
relations. However, the predominant section is conferred upon the young love
and cupid. Thus, it is the pleas of the enmeshed emotions, which reigned
supreme.
Being young and romantic, I too, in fact, was not
spared from Cupid’s antics. The eyes had mesmerized and captivated me. I had
the feeling that I could immerse myself in the depths of those eyes. Whenever I
met her, I wished I could let my heart speak, yet somehow it was quite
impossible. The rational intellect insisted that there would always be a next
time. The next time was probably tomorrow and that tomorrow never arrived. My
intellect became the slave of my heart. It forced me to express my throbbing
emotions somehow. It was then that I decided to visit my nearest card shop in
search for some appropriate remedy.
As I pushed open the door, the owner greeted me with
a smile and his enormous tiger moustache. I smiled back innocently at the man
whose moustache were curled, enough to balance a crow at each end. Quite
confidently, I started the work. It didn’t take me long to submerge myself into
the maze of relations. It was after almost half an hour later, I realized that
I was completely lost.
When I looked up, I saw that Sourav, my pal, was
also approaching the card shop. I could clearly see him through the tinted
glass walls of the exquisitely decorated card shop. Well, if he somehow came to
know of my weakness, then the whole world would too. It was a panic, selecting
a card before Valentine’s Day, well nothing short of Hara-Kiri!
I randomly selected a card from the special
friend’s section. I chose one that was simple and had a hell of a lot of
daffodils. Out of sheer panic, I handed the card to the shopkeeper who quickly
took note of its price, which he scribbled down on a notepad.
Just as he was about to hand me the card, I stopped
him. “Just a minute!” I said.
The cascading flow of his handwriting caught my
attention. I quickly asked him to write a message to express how I truly felt,
to capture my emotions, the thoughts that had been raging inside me for so
long. I decided to keep it short and simple.
While the shopkeeper was writing it down I was watching Sourav in the
meantime. He didn’t seem his usual bubbly self as if lost somewhere. It was
evident by the way he made his way, trying to elude the ever-increasing
vehicular congestion that blocked his progress. The shopkeeper quickly wrote
down my heart's message, put the card back inside the envelope, and placed it
on the desk. Sourav was about to open the tinted glass door when I placed the
card and slid behind one of the racks so that he would miss me. He had missed
me. He was heading straight for the valentine’s section, which surprised me
even more.
I pulled myself out from behind the rack, pocketed
the change, and quickly slid the precious envelope under my shirt. Now, it was
my turn to catch him red handed. I realized that he too was in the process of
sending out a heart racking message to his would-be sweetheart. Strangely, he
managed to select a card in no time, which annoyed me. As he was heading for
the payment counter, I crept behind him and tapped his shoulder. Poor guy, he
was almost shocked out of his senses when he turned. Well, I was the last
person on earth he was expecting. I twitched both my eyebrows and gave him one
of those looks that said, “Got you, man!”
There could be no excuse because the previous day
we two had spoken at length in order to convince the other mutual friends of
the futility of sending such messages that could be better dealt with by
speaking face to face with the beloved. Well, he turned red and started shaking
all over. I decided to give him a break
and said, “Well, well!”
I continued, “I will promise to keep this under
wraps for the time being if you want, but only if you reveal the identity of
the person whom you are sending that card!” He meekly nodded and blurted out
the name of the lady and scampered out just like a rabbit after paying the
price of sharing such a secret of his with me.
Thanking God, I too ran out. I did not follow him
but decided to carry off this mission of mine secretly. He too, must have been
thanking his stars for getting rid of me so easily for the time being. It was
late, so I went straight for the post office and posted my fate with a
five-rupee stamp. Waiting for the deliverance scared me. I was in a worse
position than Sourav because he could now speak of his fears and aspirations to
me. I on the other hand couldn’t as I was afraid to let go of my dominant
position as an individual who is unaffected by such trifle emotions as “Love.”
Whenever the phone rang, I assumed it to be from the queen of my heart. The
restless feeling continued to haunt me. It tore me limb by limb yet there was
no way out.
One
fine afternoon, the phone rang. Only after I had picked it up, did I realize it
was from none other than my beloved.
“Did
you send me a card, Shamik?”
I
meekly admitted in the affirmative.
She
asked, “Can you come to the District Park now?”
“Now?”
She
said, “Yes!”
“Why
not? I will make it!” I said.
Then the line went dead. There were butterflies in
my stomach. Well, hope springs eternal. I had to make it. My heart seemed
willing to pop out of my mouth. I couldn’t stop myself from trying to out jump
my leaping heart and stopped only when I realized my younger brother was
watching me wide-eyed. I quickly shaved and drenched myself in denim before rushing
to her. It was dusk and although the moon was strangely lost somewhere, she
stood like Diana, the moon goddess. I tried to get her so close that I could
touch her. My rational mind forbids me from doing so.
It
was then she delivered her response. “Take your card and go to hell!” she spat
as the ashes of my hopes lay scattered.
With due regards to my “crush” and the special
friend’s section, I must admit it was the last time I ever sent a card to
anyone. When I opened the envelope, out fell the daffodils. The testimony of my
misfortune, and it was perchance that I happened to open it to have a last
look. Even though the message bore her name on top, and it was printed in plain
simple English, “Happy Birthday.” The three-letter word that followed this “Happy
Birthday” was quite a misfit. It was “Mom.” Underneath, this three letter word
was scripted my proud name “Shamik Dhar.” Being the joker, let me dedicate this
to the queen of my heart!
****