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The excitement was palpable. An energy sizzled in the air among the slow-swelling crowds of invitees. The body language and the expectant expressions on the faces of the senior citizens, who were in the majority, said it all. Time had furrowed and harvested their lives for years; their experiences were etched out in this body: in the stoop of their shoulders, the wrinkles on their faces, the droop of lips and receding hairlines but the faint sheen of excitement and hope shone through.

This was a special event organised by a reputed NGO for International Senior’s Day in their town. The Sukkh Villa Homes for Retirement Living sponsored and turned it into a mega event.

It was organised for the first time and the only criterion was that you must be above 55 years old. The participation was unexpected. So many turned up out of curiosity that the organisers were baffled. They sent invitations to make the seniors feel special and a trickle had turned into a tide. They had not expected such a response.

Anuradha, fifty-eight years old, trembled as she slowly followed with a stiff knee, the slinky youthful Nidhi like a shadow, wondering why she allowed herself to be dragged into this event. She was such a misfit. A quiet shy homemaker, a widow who had still not come to terms with her husband’s loss after five years.

Nidhi on the other hand was a flamboyant one, shocking all with her views and actions to get away from the feeling of insecurity and low self-esteem! For her offence was the best form of self-defence. Spotting a familiar face, Nidhi called out to their old classmate Madhav Parikh; he was holding court and she got his attention with her loud voice and hand-waving gestures even as Anuradha cringed in embarrassment.

Anuradha did not want to be stranded in the sea of strange faces, so she followed Nidhi like a bogie behind an engine but was detached when the group closed around Nidhi. She started to sweat in panic. She looked around in anxiety as she felt like a kite set adrift. Speak to her about her family, cooking and housekeeping, she was an expert but making small conversations was beyond her; she had been busy taking care of her family and in the background, her husband’s sweetmeat shops were famous for their homemade sweets. She felt the hours of empty loneliness weigh her down and desperation had driven her to accept Nidhi’s invitation. Her panic attack made her hyperventilate and she stumbled looking for a chair to sit on or something to hold on or a familiar face as her heart banged against its bony cage trying to escape.

A kind voice captured her attention., ‘You seem lost madam. Can I help you?’

She met the grey eyes of a tall, smiling man with a head full of white neatly trimmed hair. She nodded as her mouth felt dry. She did not know how to make conversation.  

‘I am Dr. Hiten Barve,’ he said joining his palms in a namaste. She felt relieved and she returned his greeting; her breathing slowed and she gratefully accepted the chair he offered. As she wiped the sweat with her saree pallu, she thought, “How perceptible he was; kind and thoughtful.” Her mind grew quiet. He realised she was confused. What if he had shaken her hand? She would have cried out and caused a scene. She was unused to being in social gatherings like this one.  She was a person who was always backstage, a quiet worker who wanted no attention. How she would have been embarrassed? Touch! That word and action flashed through her mind; Another Man! Who is not her husband? How could she? Apparently, she realised that it was foolish to be confused at her age. It was ok to be not ok. Nobody would judge her, whispered her mind.  

But her panic was triggered by these small things. What to say; how to reply what words to use; How to talk about her dead husband; address him, and call herself a widow. A sob and a sigh punctuated her murmurs to his queries. How to take her deceased husband’s name and breathe the memories that rose in a very public place; she had never uttered his name as in the tradition she was brought up with a fear that it would shorten his life. Now that thought instantly flashed in her head emptily: he was dead and all her fasts and rituals of a good Hindu wife had not saved him. 

She feared the outside world and Nidhi, her friend, had now decided to take her life in her hands and make her feel like a new woman. Nidhi to the outside world was a bold female virago, but at heart, she was a loyal, lonely friend who was trying to live through the divorce and mockery of her marriage. Anuradha knew it and thanked her stars for an ordinary, simple man as a husband, who had been a shopkeeper but treated her well, gave her respect and allowed her to be the queen of her domain.

Nidhi married a rich, well-educated man who wanted her to be a showpiece. She tried so hard but it was not enough for him. His criticism, jibes, comparisons and persistent need to look good and young made her a caricature of Botox, scalpel cuts, and laser abraded model wife. She even denied motherhood for fear that pregnancy would ruin her perfect figure. Trying to live up to his ever-changing expectations and the mental torture eroded her self-confidence. The moment she stood up to him, she lost it all. He cast her away like a rag. He found younger and younger girls to be his third wife or a fiancée or girlfriend or whatever he chose to call them on page three of the newspapers, as they hung like a beautiful shiny arm Candy, framing his wealth and vain glorious looks. He was now laid up in a fancy hospital alone, with machines and home care nurses for company. He had no legal kids but apparently some illegitimate ones about whom, Anuradha had heard about from Nidhi.

Anuradha quietly sat sipping the tea he had handed her, observing the party. She was stunned and wondered in surprise, “Why there were so many single souls or lonely people, who were driven to come out of their shell of singlehood, away from the gaze of their spouses, children neighbours etc.? Were there really so many single people seeking company and yearning to be with someone?

Why did she come with Nidhi? She knew the answer. She too was alone and in this modern everyday world, the children were in their own bubble, also alone. They were also alone with their mobiles, laptops and computers. She wanted to live again. The life she expected or visualised did not exist. Family, grandchildren, relatives, loving and caring and helping each other; always smiling, joking, going on picnics and having family get-to-gathers! It happened only in the movies and the advertisements that projected ideal lives. For her, they were thoughts only. Rituals and traditions were dead. They lived in commercial spaces. One had to be practical.

The sweet shop was closed. Her son was an IT guy in the USA. Daughter in Australia, a Physiotherapist, touching and getting strange bodies out of pain and misery, having an Australian boyfriend. 

At heart, you are alone and single; only your heartbeats speak to you like a caged creature and you can only share your life with I, Me and myself. Three in one - that was the truth and the moment you accept it then the divisions and compartments, fences and taboos vanish. Anuradha reasoned out as she sat there as if she had a revelation.

‘Go! Be yourself for once, a new you.’ She heard that advice in her head and slowly turned her head towards Dr. Barve who was quietly watching the merry-making and jollity around. She lifted her eyes and blinked slowly; both smiled at each other. She felt strange but overcame the shyness with her newfound confidence.

“I will get us something to eat from the food counter. Please wait here,” he said as she tried to struggle up to stand. As he moved away, he said gently, “I hope you can take something sweet.
You don’t have a sugar problem I hope.”
Anuradha felt her face going red. 
“At this age, as a senior, that is also to be taken into consideration,” he said lightly. 
She was liking him by the minute and wondered how strangers could also be very kind and caring. She saw Nidhi hurrying towards her from afar frowning. 
“Who was that, Anu? 
“Hope you are ok, na?.” 
Nidhi’s eyes grew round when she saw Anuradha blushed and smiled. 
“Thank God! You look happy!”
She was curious. “Who was that? she asked again, as her eyes restlessly searched the crowds.
“Dr. Barve,” Anuradha said softly.
Seeing him walking towards them with a plate of food for Anuradha she exclaimed, “Oh! He is a well-known Doctor. I am glad I persuaded you to come. I hope you don’t regret coming with me.” Anuradha nodded. 
Nidhi said slowly, “Change is what makes us move forward without fear. I tried to change for my ex-husband with fear; surrendering my mind, heart…soul...for him not for me. I ended up hating him, and myself and trying to commit suicide a couple of times. And see what happened to me.” 
“I am going to live for the moment.” Twirling around in glee. There was a dangerous sparkle in her eyes and Anuradha understood at that moment what she felt.

“Oh! My friend is here.  Your admirer is coming close. See you later. I hope you find happiness and I will too,” Nidhi danced away laughing and winking at her. Anuradha looked wonderstruck at the receding back of her friend, as she disappeared again. Anuradha felt light-hearted. She felt a sense of joy flood her being as the string of coloured lights twinkled more brightly in her eyes and she trembled with anticipation, in the cool air. She knew there was light at the end of her tunnel.