Amara looked down from the window of the café, at the sprawling bungalow which had been her home for the last ten years. It was partially hidden from sight by the tall sturdy rhododendron tree. Great trusses of blood red flowers leapt out from among dark evergreen leaves. It made a pretty picture. Amara was familiar with every corner of that house. It had been her shelter and her hiding place, away from the people, her own brothers and sister, who had first used and then abandoned her.

            Now another phase of her life was over. She was on her own again, with an uncertain future ahead, and no place to call her own.

“I asked for so little from life. A tiny cottage of my own and someone to love me! But now I’m nearing forty, and the prospects of a husband and home are impossible dreams.”

She brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye, and took a big gulp of coffee.

“Ah! So you’ve taken my favourite table,” said a friendly voice.

Amara looked up to see a middle aged man with a thick moustache smiling at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t know it was reserved.”

“Not exactly, but whenever I’m in town I come here and take this seat. The rambling house with its old world charm and its beautiful garden is a photographer’s dream. The sturdy rhododendron tree stands sentinel over the house, and I keep imagining that many mysteries may lie buried there.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. I work there and can vouch that there is nothing that can stir up one’s imagination. There was an old, crotchety lady whom I tended day and night for the last ten years. Now she’s dead and the house will probably be closed up and gradually crumble with disuse. I’m just waiting for the funeral to be over. Then I’ll have to leave.”

“No relatives? Did no one visit her in ten years?”

“She does have children. But they live abroad. They used to send her the occasional letter with photographs. There were a couple of visits too. When they knew she was being well looked after, and the old lady was happy with me, they washed their hands off.”

“That’s pretty irresponsible. You’re not a poor relative are you?”

“No, just a poor employee,” Amara said sadly.

“And did she treat you well?”
”There were good times and bad. She could be a dear one moment, and a grumbling grouch the next. But she paid me well, and except for attending on her, there was not much else for me to do. A house keeper and a cook were my other companions.”

 “That’s not such a great life for a young woman,” said the man, “Let me introduce myself. I’m Sanjay Roy. I’m a freelance photographer. You’ve made me curious. Tell me, why would a young lady bury herself in that mausoleum with an old woman?”

 “Look, there’s no mystery about it,” Amara said irritably, “I’m not a fugitive from the law, nor was I jilted in love. Neither had I planned to ingratiate myself to the old lady and run off with her money. It was sheer necessity. I needed a job and a roof above my head, and this seemed uncomplicated enough. Of course it wasn’t easy sometimes. Mrs. Thomas could be very trying. She would fuss over her food and crib about everything I did. But I understood her fear of loneliness and her craving for attention.”

            Sanjay had a way with people. Amara who was usually shy with strangers opened up to him. Perhaps at this moment, with uncertainty of her future staring her in the eye, she needed a sympathetic ear.

“I’ve really been starved for company,” she thought, “I’ve missed out on life. Now I feel like a nun about to be turned out into the big bad world. But if people are as kind and friendly as this man, perhaps it won’t be that bad.”

            It was not as though Amara had no family. She had four brothers well placed in life, and a sister who was also married to a rich man. But families could be thoughtless and uncaring. She was the youngest, and as her siblings flew the nest, she was left with an invalid mother, whom she tended for the better part of the day, as she watched her dreams slowly drift by.

“How selfish!” Sanjay said, “Usually brothers concern themselves with the welfare of their younger sisters. Did they expect you to sacrifice your youth while they enjoyed the good things of life?”

“I didn’t realise that I was being exploited. I felt it was someone’s duty to care for Mother. She was crippled by arthritis and could not move about very much. As the others had their own families to bother about, I was the only one without other encumbrances.”

“Bosh!” said Sanjay angrily, “So you had no normal life at all? No friends, no dates, no school girl crushes?”

“I had friends at school. There were a number of girls who liked me enough to come home and spend time with me, as I couldn’t leave my mother alone for very long. I had my music too. The old family piano provided hours of entertainment, and so was my mother’s treasure house of books. She was a teacher you know, and she impressed on me the need to be knowledgeable.”

Sanjay looked directly into her eyes.

“Did you never want to get married?”

“Of course I did. I’m not abnormal you know. I also dreamed of falling in love with a tall, dark stranger, who would sweep me off my feet. We would have a quaint little cottage and many children.”

She looked sad and lonely.

“Like a bruised reed!” he thought, “Poor dear girl!”

“And did the tall dark stranger come along?” Sanjay asked.

“He did. He was all that I dreamed of. We had some lovely times together. Mother didn’t mind him calling at the house. Things might have worked out for me if my brother Ravi hadn’t arrived. He put the fear of God into the young man. He said that marriage was out of question for me for as long as Mother was alive, and until I was free, no casual affairs would be tolerated.”

“Where is the fellow now?”

“Who knows? He moved out of town soon after. By now he must be having a brood of children.”

            Amara realised that she had been talking for more than an hour, and that too with a complete stranger.

“I must run along now,” she said, “They’ll wonder where I have gone.”

“But we’ve just got acquainted. You can’t run off like that. I’ve truly enjoyed our chat.”

“Of course you would. I’ve been pouring out my life history to a total stranger. I don’t know anything about you.”

“That can be remedied. When are you leaving town and which way are you headed?” Sanjay asked.

“Perhaps tomorrow after the funeral. My bags are packed and ready. The problem is where do I go? Our house was sold long ago and the spoils divided among my brothers. Nothing was left for the little sister who tended the invalid mother,” she said bitterly.

            As Amara walked towards the house, the sense of camaraderie she had experienced with the stranger began to recede. The man had made her extremely conscious of her colourless life. Single at forty, and never properly been kissed before. People had a tendency to sneer at a spinster as though she were some kind of freak, defective and therefore not desirable. She needed a place to stay until she could find a job. She had a decent bank balance. Her salary had been good, and opportunities to spend were few. Her food had been free and always sumptuous. If she went to live with her brothers, they would grab her savings and make her slave like a menial.

            The house of her beloved sister was forever closed to her because of her brother-in-law, who was a brute. Soon after her mother’s death Amara went to live with them. She was happy to be there until one night, she found her sister’s husband in her room, intent on raping her. She fought like a tigress to save herself, and somehow managed to push him out and lock the door. To save her sister from embarrassment, she did not mention the incident. She decided that she would move out as soon as she found a job. But until then she would be very careful.

            However, the next time he began prowling outside the door, he was caught by his wife.

“It’s your sister,” he said, “She invited me to her room. After all, I’m a man. It was too great a temptation to resist. You ought to be blaming her.”

I left immediately because I knew that my sister believed her husband.

            There were a handful of people at the funeral. No relatives had come to see Mrs. Thomas. Amara had grown quite fond of the lady. She wept bitterly as the coffin was lowered into the grave.

“Will this be my lot?” she wondered, “When I die, will I go down unwept, unhonoured and unsung?”

            Both the cook and housekeeper had their families to go back to.

“Don’t leave as yet Amara,” the house keeper said, “Help us close up the house. And as you have no place to go, you could come home with me for the present. We have a spare room and I can get it ready for you.”

            But as they returned to the house, Sanjay Roy was waiting at the gate. He looked larger than life. His eyes crinkled as he broke into a smile.

“Hi there! Wanted to catch you before you left. Come, let’s go out for a walk.”

They walked down a tree-lined avenue. Sparrows twittered in the tree tops. It felt so good to be away from the house of mourning.

“I’ve been making some enquiries,” he said, “How do you fancy working with children?”

“I’ve never worked with children before. I don’t know the first thing about tiny tots.”

“There’s always a first time. You could try it out for a while until you find something better to do.”

            There were about forty children of assorted sizes and colours. They were all orphans abandoned or rescued from the street. The orphanage appeared to be a lively place, and the children looked happy and contented. There was a trained nurse who supervised the work, and many helpers on the staff.

“What would you like to do? Mr. Roy told me you have no experience with children. I suggest you take over some of the office work until you get used to these boisterous youngsters. Try to fit in wherever you feel comfortable,” said the nurse.

            Amara had a spacious room to herself. In the first few days she would rush to her room frequently. She was not used to the noise and mischief of the children. The job actually tired her. But as time went by, she came to know each child individually, and her attitude towards the children changed. She started helping them with their homework, taught them the songs she had learnt as a child, and even joined them at games. Sometimes a little one would sidle up to her for a cuddle. Amara would put her arms around the child, realising how much it meant.

            Amara soon began to feel happy again. The children made her feel young and energetic. It renewed her interest in the world around her. They were curious about everything they saw and asked many questions. But they kept her on her toes. It was a tired but happy woman who went to sleep every night.

            Many visitors called at the Home with adoption in mind. The best were taken, and those who remained felt the sting of rejection. To these Amara paid special attention, and showered them with love.

            When she had been there for about three months, a piano arrived.

“From the Director,” the nurse explained.

“What sort of Director who never shows his face here?” Amara asked.

“He’s on the move most of the time. He travels extensively. But he keeps in touch over the phone, and of late he has begun to call frequently.”

“Guess he wants to know if I’m a suitable choice for the job.”

“I think he genuinely wants to know if you’ve settled down.”

            The piano made all the difference. Amara was an accomplished pianist. This talent was one thing her brothers couldn’t take away from her. Her mother had been a good teacher until her hands were crippled with arthritis. Her music had sustained her even during her long stay with Mrs. Thomas. The old lady had a sturdy German piano. She too had been a musician in her younger days.

            About six months after Amara came to the Home, the nurse announced that the Director was due to pay a visit. A kind of excitement gripped the inmates. The staff wanted the children to put up a good show. Amara had drawn up a programme, and she put the children through many hours of practice, until they were perfect.

            But just as they were busy gearing up for the show, Sanjay Roy decided to pay Amara a visit. She had thought about him on and off, as a kind man who had helped her find a job. But he vanished after that, and whatever hopes she had of a deeper friendship, had been nipped in the bud.

“Sanjay, I’m really glad to see you and do want to have a long chat. But the Director will be here any minute and I must see that the children put up a good show for him.”

“Forget about the Director for a little while Amara. I’ve come a long way to see you.”

            She was in a dilemma. Here was Sanjay who had befriended her. But if she didn’t create a good impression on the Director, she could be in trouble. Sanjay was watching her anxiously. As she looked up at his kind face, she decided that no Director could be as important as this good man.

“Come,” she said, “I know a place where we can talk.”

She led him to a seat under a flowering acacia tree.

“Are you happy here Amara? Are you glad you took the job?”

“Of course. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Then do you want to stay on?”

“Why are you asking?” She lifted her troubled eyes to his. “Has the nurse said something unfavourable?”

“Now don’t jump to conclusions. You remember what you said about a dream you once had? You wanted a house full of children. At least part of your dream has come true.”

She smiled, remembering what she had said. Sanjay gave her hand a friendly squeeze.

            As they returned to the main building, the nurse rushed up to Sanjay.

“Mr. Roy, I was wondering where you had disappeared.” Sanjay signaled with his eyes that she should say no more.

Amara looked from one to the other. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“Mr. Roy swore me to secrecy,” the nurse said sheepishly, “He is the owner, director and patron of this Home.”

Amara was suddenly nervous. But the children didn’t let her down, and performed wonderfully, as she accompanied them on the piano.

“That was superb,” Sanjay said, “I see such a change in the children. They look so happy. Now that we’ve put this function behind us, I think you need a break. Shall we go out for dinner?”

            Over the course of the evening, Amara came to realise that this hunk of a man had a heart of gold.

            Sanjay was desolate after the loss of his wife and son. They had died in a car accident several years ago. Leaving his business in good hands, he had travelled the world, indulging in his hobby of photography with the hope of forgetting his pain. But as a fitting memorial to his loved ones, he had poured a fortune into this Home for orphans. From time to time he would touch base, to check on his business interests. Then he would come down and pay a visit to the Home.

“My meeting with you was a turning point in my life. You looked as lonely and lost as the waifs in the Home. And when I heard your story, I felt I have to intervene. I guess my roving days are done. I want to make the other half of your dream come true. Do you consider me tall, dark and handsome?”

“Oh Sanjay,” she said, as her arms went around his neck, “This is the greatest surprise of my life. Promise you won’t wander off again.”

            One day, after a few months of their marriage, Sanjay came waving a newspaper.

“There’s something in it for you,” he said.

He pointed to an announcement in the papers, boxed in by a thick border.

“Anyone knowing the whereabouts of Miss Amara Samuel may please contact the undersigned at Rhododendron Villa.”

It was signed Richard Thomas.

            Sanjay drove Amara there the next day. Richard Thomas was overjoyed to see her.

“This is wonderful that you’ve come so soon. I thought I’d have to hire a detective to track you down.”

“I never left town. This gentleman here got me a job, just as I was preparing to leave this house after your mother’s funeral.”

He was apologetic that his mother’s will had only recently been probated, as both he and his siblings lived abroad, and could not attend to it earlier.

“My mother has specifically stated in her will that this house and most of her money is to be handed over to you Miss. Amara Samuel. She valued your friendship and appreciated your care of her for ten long years. Rest assured that none of us will be contesting the will. You did a great job, and we will try and get through the formalities as soon as possible.”

Amara’s eyes filled with tears.

“I never thought my dreams would all come true one day – a husband, a brood of ready- made children and now this fabulous legacy! Life is good indeed, and I will never walk alone again,” she thought.

As she took Sanjay’s hand and went out into the garden, the rhododendron tree showered them with her gorgeous red petals, like a heavenly benediction.

 

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