Together we shall stand tall. We shall not bend to any adversity, to one or to all of us. We shall love & live together.
– Satpathy Family
To me the word “together” has a rather special meaning. It is a strange word. I wonder who coined it. Ah. The special meaning – well I really cannot define it clinically or express it very well but I will try.
Together is about not being alone. About the sound of voices in the background, heard, recognized and enjoyed while I am sitting in another room, working on something. About tiny, soft hands around my neck as a new secret is whispered in my ear in a voice just loud enough to be heard in the next room. Lazy Sunday lunch of fish curry and rice, with papads roasted in the microwave. Visits to the temple and the learning of new mantras. Lifting a child to ring the bronze bells and the few rupee coins pressed into a small palm to give to the temple Purohit. The serious discussions over distribution of sweet, sticky chocolate wealth. The gleam in small eyes when handed a coin for the piggy bank. The jangle of coins as the wealth held in the piggy belly is measured accurately with a few hearty shakes. The small waving hands poked out of the school bus window as it pulls away into traffic. The smile that blossoms when they see me standing outside the apartment complex to pick them up from the school bus when they thought I would be at work. The feel of a feminine hand in mine as we follow the laughter of two small children racing ahead in the moonlight after dinner late on a Sunday night, knowing that we will hardly speak for the next few days. The weight of a lunch box balancing my laptop bag as I walk into office everyday knowing that my wife woke a hour before I did to make sure I carried it with me. The daily shout of a high squeak “boo” from behind a partially opened front door and my theatrical jump in response. The rush to tell me all that has happened during the day starting from the time the bus left me standing on the road waving right up to the boo to greet my return. The asking of “how was your day” and listening to tit bits of the day’s happenings. The fruits my wife walked a kilometer in the hot sun to buy from the old woman who sits next to the Income Tax office. The row of water bottles, school bags and shoes lined up in the drawing room as small eyes droop and heads nod over dinner. The silence of a house full of sleeping children. The rustle of bed clothes as my wife slides in next to me with a sigh for another day gone. Together is about life and living. About life, love and living, well, together!