Coming Home Again
Entry by: Turia
18th August 2017
THE OLD HOUSE ON A HILL
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
- RUMI
Saavni… say that again? pleaded the man.
Saavni Shridhar Deshpande roomed a little girl voice, as she practiced saying her name over and over again in a tiny apartment on the 2nd floor of a suburban locality. Her father echoed her voice in his baritone.
Some echoes have memories etched in them ...
20 years later, Saavni walked the old road of memories, and relived them!
One at a time…
‘Baba’! said Saavni, out loud, surprised, at how her little girl voice had turned older, it had a distinctive quality to it. Did her voice carry the love and the pain in equal measures? Just the way she felt them, on most days…
Do voices carry feelings? Or Do feelings turn the voices mute?
Saavni's father -the man on the sofa in the house of the very suburban locality hadn’t changed much, however, his jet-black beard had turned grey, lines had marked their territory on his face… age had graced him.
The house, that had been home to many voices and feelings had grown in the years that had passed. It had changed, it had grown gloomier, just like Saavni, but that was about to change.
‘Somethings never change’ thought Saavni
‘Such as?’ asked a voice from somewhere
Such as places… people… replied Saavni with a sigh.
I am certain, though, that change is the only constant.
‘Well, only if you allow it to be’ said the voice
Do I have a choice? Asked Saavni
‘Yes, you always have a choice’ replied the voice
But, wouldn’t I rather change and move ahead?
Silence fell… The voice vanished. Saavni, now had only one voice, her own, and either she could trust it or stay untrusting… in her unknowing, limited zone.
She could say what needed to be said and pay the price. Truths that liberate us come with a price… but… We always have the choice! And yet…
Some truths need to be told.
What was Saavni Shridhar Deshpande’s truth?
Saavni had many truths. But she owed her father only one!
She didn’t want to burden him with the others.
Like the one, where, her little girl voice was muted behind a closed door by a man who knew her father well. Like the times, she felt like slashing her little girl wrists with a large kitchen knife because of the man who had muted her voice.
And the one where her teenage self-had gone from drug store to drug store hoping to find sleeping pills, but had failed!
And the one where her tiny frail body had been hurt so bad that all she wanted to do was, cry, loudly and say ‘Baba, I’m hurting’… But, hadn’t because, she knew it would be in vain. And, that would hurt more.
That’s why some truths remain untold
It’s better that way. Believed Saavni. Because, with every recount…
The bearer’s pain grows deeper
It reaches the gut
Slowly, piercing
Making itself known
Deeper, farther
Then, the voice becomes mute
And tears flow
Silently…
Some truths need to be told, for they liberate us.
What was the truth that could liberate Saavni?
Saavni, who had been raised in a conservative town, but had grown into a modern woman. Life had taught her, and she had allowed herself to learn. Pausing, often, when the pain arrived. Mute. Pauses. Pain. Causes. Mute Pain. Pauses. Pause. Pause. Pause…. Let the pain go away now! I have lived it.
A lifetime, had circled in a couplet
Four lines
Coming
To one conclusion
THE TRUTH!
The truth stood there with Saavni…
It was in her heart and outside it. Next to her… Opposite the sofa, on which her father sat.
Sriradha!
Baba, I love her… said Saavni
(In her mind, she said a lot … the silent voice had bloomed. It wanted to say-I forgive you for not protecting me when I needed it. I forgive you for sacrificing my dignity at the cost of your needs. But, I love you… please accept this!)
Some unsaid recounts remain unsaid… forever!
(This woman loves me, she has healed the wounds that took place behind closed doors and muted pauses. I’m free from them, Baba… I am learning to love again. I’m healing. Slowly. Now, let me live, let me love… I accepted it all for you. Why can’t you…)
But, they lived in a world where the muted pauses were silenced, as was love!
Everything happened behind closed doors, drawn curtains.
But, not anymore…
Some doors need to be broken into, some curtains need to fall
‘A girl in love with another girl’ it’s unnatural, abnormal!’ stormed Saavni’s father.
The right-doings were only for the world. Behind closed doors, wrong doings reaped wounds into little hearts, and little bodies. And, fathers stood silent, mothers stood silent. They all stood silent. And watched.
Don’t you have hearts?
‘Hearts?’ ‘Use your brain, you live among these people, you must prove yourself capable of living amidst them’ ‘After all, my honour is at stake’!
‘Your honour was slashed, the day your daughter felt like killing herself. Because you didn’t have the heart, to save her. You had only excuses.’
‘People. Society. Honour.’
Where does love stand, Baba?
If you love me you will not love another woman that way. In an ‘unnatural way’.
Can love be unnatural?
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
- RUMI
So, what happened to Saavni?
Is this where the story begins. And ends.
Most definitely not!
Certain home-comings free us.
Love does meet us beyond our ideas of right doing and wrong doing.
***
5 Years later:
Birds are making the most of the beautiful weather that has graced them. Birds always make the most out of little things. A blue jay and a swan are circling near the pond, the lawn around the pond is freshly mowed. On the porch, there are magazines, books. Two coffee mugs are steaming a heady coffee bean aroma around the open doors.
Some broken doors, lead to open destinies
Tap them, knock them, break them down
And Enter!
The Old house on the hill has been refurbished to contain new memories. Happy ones.
A beautiful white home, for a better, colourful life
Children are busy planting seeds in the garden. Their names often echo around the silent spaces in the house. Etching new memories. Mira and Siddharth. Saavni’s children.
The survivor wins!
And where was Sriradha?
She was where she belonged. Beside Saavni, in her truth, in life and in love.
Did they live happily ever after?
Well…
Some stories never end
Live fully
Love fiercely
Forgive, but don’t forget
To Live fully. To Love fiercely…
 
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
- RUMI
Saavni… say that again? pleaded the man.
Saavni Shridhar Deshpande roomed a little girl voice, as she practiced saying her name over and over again in a tiny apartment on the 2nd floor of a suburban locality. Her father echoed her voice in his baritone.
Some echoes have memories etched in them ...
20 years later, Saavni walked the old road of memories, and relived them!
One at a time…
‘Baba’! said Saavni, out loud, surprised, at how her little girl voice had turned older, it had a distinctive quality to it. Did her voice carry the love and the pain in equal measures? Just the way she felt them, on most days…
Do voices carry feelings? Or Do feelings turn the voices mute?
Saavni's father -the man on the sofa in the house of the very suburban locality hadn’t changed much, however, his jet-black beard had turned grey, lines had marked their territory on his face… age had graced him.
The house, that had been home to many voices and feelings had grown in the years that had passed. It had changed, it had grown gloomier, just like Saavni, but that was about to change.
‘Somethings never change’ thought Saavni
‘Such as?’ asked a voice from somewhere
Such as places… people… replied Saavni with a sigh.
I am certain, though, that change is the only constant.
‘Well, only if you allow it to be’ said the voice
Do I have a choice? Asked Saavni
‘Yes, you always have a choice’ replied the voice
But, wouldn’t I rather change and move ahead?
Silence fell… The voice vanished. Saavni, now had only one voice, her own, and either she could trust it or stay untrusting… in her unknowing, limited zone.
She could say what needed to be said and pay the price. Truths that liberate us come with a price… but… We always have the choice! And yet…
Some truths need to be told.
What was Saavni Shridhar Deshpande’s truth?
Saavni had many truths. But she owed her father only one!
She didn’t want to burden him with the others.
Like the one, where, her little girl voice was muted behind a closed door by a man who knew her father well. Like the times, she felt like slashing her little girl wrists with a large kitchen knife because of the man who had muted her voice.
And the one where her teenage self-had gone from drug store to drug store hoping to find sleeping pills, but had failed!
And the one where her tiny frail body had been hurt so bad that all she wanted to do was, cry, loudly and say ‘Baba, I’m hurting’… But, hadn’t because, she knew it would be in vain. And, that would hurt more.
That’s why some truths remain untold
It’s better that way. Believed Saavni. Because, with every recount…
The bearer’s pain grows deeper
It reaches the gut
Slowly, piercing
Making itself known
Deeper, farther
Then, the voice becomes mute
And tears flow
Silently…
Some truths need to be told, for they liberate us.
What was the truth that could liberate Saavni?
Saavni, who had been raised in a conservative town, but had grown into a modern woman. Life had taught her, and she had allowed herself to learn. Pausing, often, when the pain arrived. Mute. Pauses. Pain. Causes. Mute Pain. Pauses. Pause. Pause. Pause…. Let the pain go away now! I have lived it.
A lifetime, had circled in a couplet
Four lines
Coming
To one conclusion
THE TRUTH!
The truth stood there with Saavni…
It was in her heart and outside it. Next to her… Opposite the sofa, on which her father sat.
Sriradha!
Baba, I love her… said Saavni
(In her mind, she said a lot … the silent voice had bloomed. It wanted to say-I forgive you for not protecting me when I needed it. I forgive you for sacrificing my dignity at the cost of your needs. But, I love you… please accept this!)
Some unsaid recounts remain unsaid… forever!
(This woman loves me, she has healed the wounds that took place behind closed doors and muted pauses. I’m free from them, Baba… I am learning to love again. I’m healing. Slowly. Now, let me live, let me love… I accepted it all for you. Why can’t you…)
But, they lived in a world where the muted pauses were silenced, as was love!
Everything happened behind closed doors, drawn curtains.
But, not anymore…
Some doors need to be broken into, some curtains need to fall
‘A girl in love with another girl’ it’s unnatural, abnormal!’ stormed Saavni’s father.
The right-doings were only for the world. Behind closed doors, wrong doings reaped wounds into little hearts, and little bodies. And, fathers stood silent, mothers stood silent. They all stood silent. And watched.
Don’t you have hearts?
‘Hearts?’ ‘Use your brain, you live among these people, you must prove yourself capable of living amidst them’ ‘After all, my honour is at stake’!
‘Your honour was slashed, the day your daughter felt like killing herself. Because you didn’t have the heart, to save her. You had only excuses.’
‘People. Society. Honour.’
Where does love stand, Baba?
If you love me you will not love another woman that way. In an ‘unnatural way’.
Can love be unnatural?
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
- RUMI
So, what happened to Saavni?
Is this where the story begins. And ends.
Most definitely not!
Certain home-comings free us.
Love does meet us beyond our ideas of right doing and wrong doing.
***
5 Years later:
Birds are making the most of the beautiful weather that has graced them. Birds always make the most out of little things. A blue jay and a swan are circling near the pond, the lawn around the pond is freshly mowed. On the porch, there are magazines, books. Two coffee mugs are steaming a heady coffee bean aroma around the open doors.
Some broken doors, lead to open destinies
Tap them, knock them, break them down
And Enter!
The Old house on the hill has been refurbished to contain new memories. Happy ones.
A beautiful white home, for a better, colourful life
Children are busy planting seeds in the garden. Their names often echo around the silent spaces in the house. Etching new memories. Mira and Siddharth. Saavni’s children.
The survivor wins!
And where was Sriradha?
She was where she belonged. Beside Saavni, in her truth, in life and in love.
Did they live happily ever after?
Well…
Some stories never end
Live fully
Love fiercely
Forgive, but don’t forget
To Live fully. To Love fiercely…
 
Feedback: Average score: 309 (62%)
Marker comments:
Marker 1
- What I liked about this piece: I liked the stream-of-consciousness style. It felt like something real - a slice of a life. It made me think.
- Favourite sentence: Live fully; love fiercely; forgive - but don't forget.
- Feedback: Loss and sorrow; pain and regret. These are some of the darker gifts that memory can bestow on all of us. These notions were articulated clearly throughout the piece but what I also liked was the sense of hope that shone through.
Marker 2
- What I liked about this piece: Such a strong narrative voice.Very moving.
- Favourite sentence: Birds always make the most out of little things
- Feedback: I love the RUMI quote - I have it on my fridge. This piece grew and grew on me - both original and striking.
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