The Melody of A Malady Called ‘Love’ (9/03/25)

The Melody of A Malady Called ‘Love’

The Melody of A Malady Called ‘Love’ :

Aryan was in his late-thirties when he decided to vacation in the dreamy Union Territory of Pondicherry at the onset of winter.

He had already booked his suit in a hotel in Auroville, a township and study center named after a great Indian freedom-fighter-turned-saint. It was on the evening of his arrival while he was loitering aimlessly in those nearby streets that ran parallel to one another leading to the sea shore that he bumped into a strikingly attractive lady – her face partially covered with a muffler.

“Jasmine! What a surprise!”

“Aryan! Oh My God! Who’d have thought of meeting you here in this far-flung Pondi!” She exclaimed.

Aryan stared at her for a while. She was still as beautiful as at the time she was first introduced to her.

“I live in a house nearby. Would you like to come over for coffee?” She asked in her characteristic friendly manner but the bubbly lady was gone and in her place, a more mature, more earthly woman had emerged.

Aryan nodded his head as she turned back with him at her heels. She stopped before a beautiful house a hundred meter or so down from where they met.

There were some colourful trees, creepers and climbers beautifying the entrance of the house. Jasmine fumbled for her key-bunch inside her wallet before opening the green, Mahogany door of the house. As she stepped into a small courtyard along with an enclosed corridor, he could also see a small, round table in the middle. There was an air of absolute calm and peace inside.

He was led to a chair near the table while she sat on the chair opposite.

“You live alone? What happened to your husband, that TV news producer or something?” Aryan couldn’t help asking.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee with some cookies?” She asked him instead, without answering his question.

As Aryan nodded for the second time, she got up to get inside. Sitting there all by himself with all those colourful, tubbed plants around him, Aryan’s mind went back to his first meeting with Jasmine… .

“Meet, Jasmine, Sir. She’s the latest addition to our History

Department.” Mrs. Chatterjee, the Head of the Social Studies Unit of their school, had told him in the Staff Room, elbowing at the same instant the lady standing on her right, talking animatedly to the VP.

Aryan glanced at her. She was wearing a sea-green georgette sari with a sleeveless blouse and matching high-heeled shoes. Other than the short gold chain with a pendant that barely managed to reach below the V of her neck, and the branded wrist watch, she had no other jewelry or ornaments on, Aryan noticed. She had short, straight hair that fell down to her shoulders. The best thing about her was her eyes. She had the most kind and beautiful pair of eyes he had seen on anyone with those luscious, luring lips that made you want to hold her tight and feel like pressing yours against hers. Slim, friendly, her youthfulness caught hold of his heart at first glance.

As she turned her head towards him, murmuring some words of apologies to the VP, she smiled at him. She stretched her hand out next which Aryan took in a firm grip. Both of them were shocked as something akin to currents or electric shocks shot through both of them.

“Hi. Aryan here. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here, Mr. Roy. I’ve already heard a lot about you from Mrs. Chatterjee. I’m so excited, I’m looking forward to learning a lot from you.”

“How can I, a Language Teacher, help you? Anyway, you are most welcome to come to me with your doubts any time. I’ll try to help in whatever manner possible. ”

That’s how their friendship began. He was the most eligible bachelor of the school while Jasmine became the most approachable (desirable?) female teacher in a short while. Their friendship was bound to turn into a relationship and soon Aryan started visiting her at her quarters even at odd hours. And the best thing about Love is that the melody of love always overpowers the malady of it!

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On that day, they made a trip to a place of historical importance along with some other colleagues of the Social Studies Unit. Throughout the two and a half hour journey by the school bus through the uneven and bumpy roads, they sat side by side, holding hands, enjoying the beauty and bounty of nature yet lost in one another.

Finally, they climbed up the stiff rocks to get to the top. The view from up there was truly breath-taking! They had some photos snapped together.

“Madam, get a bit closer to Sir. Why don’t you put your arms through his from behind. Yea, that’s it. Say ‘cheese’… ” and the photographer, a colleague, clicked a few more photos of them in intimate poses with his Polaroid.

That night, too tired from the trip, Jasmine spent at Aryan’s, away from the prying eyes of the maddening crowds! 

In the wee hours of the morning, he rolled over, planted a kiss on her serene and sublime face before asking,

“Would you love to settle down here and spend the rest of your life with me?”

Jasmine, still sleepy, winked at him looking as handsome as ever before murmuring teasingly:

“You mean, whether I’d like to be Mrs. Roy?”

He couldn’t help chuckling at the way she asked him that question and quipped :

“Hmm..”

“Yea, very much so.” She replied before getting up and getting dressed.

But Jasmine became very vulnerable the next morning when she overheard that photographer-colleague telling the Lab. Assistant that he didn’t approve of such free-thinking, so-called modern ladies as Jasmine was.

The bolt from the blue came exactly when their relationship was blooming into something of pure bliss! Aryan was shocked to learn that Jasmine had tendered in her resignation and what was more, she left for Kashmir in a haste to get married to a man, a news producer, of her father’s choice. She didn’t even wait for the farewell party! Nor did she bother to inform Aryan about her decision!

He was so distraught, to say the least. So driven to desperation and madness was he by Jasmine’s sudden departure!

But humans are known to have survived from heartaches before. So did Aryan, having gone through the worst phase of his life, somehow.

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“Here’s coffee for you.” Jasmine comes back holding a small tray with the mugs and a packet of cookies on it. She sits down on the chair opposite and waits for Aryan to have a few sips before saying :

“To answer your first question, whether I live alone, the answer is ‘No’. I don’t live all by myself here. So far as the next question is concerned, you were right about the News Producer. I was to be married to him but the marriage was called off at the eleventh hour.”

“Why? Was he a drunkard? A lunatic, lecher? And why did you leave me like the way you did?” Aryan was too pained to control his voice.

“He’s a good man. He’s willing to marry me even after the disclosure or, should I say disaster?” Jasmine said somberly.

“Disclosure? Disaster? What disclosure, disaster are you talking about? I don’t really get you!” He questioned her shaking his head, looking quite confused.

“I told him that I was into the third month of pregnancy.”

“What? You were preg… ! How could that be? Aryan asked her, looking thunderstruck: “Wait a bit. Was that the reason why you left me? To protect your honour and reputation? You don’t mean to say that I’d anything to do……?” He left the last question unfinished and sounded dubious.

She stifled what seemed like a sob in her throat and answered in a trembling voice,“ I do, Aryan. Did I ever give you the impression of a woman who loves sleeping around? And by the way, I left you to protect not mine but your reputation.”

He looked shocked, flabbergasted, unable to proceed any further.

“Anyway, the marriage got cancelled. I left Kashmir when I landed up with a job here.” She put her mug down, looked at her watch and said, “Now, it’s almost 3 O’clock and I’ve gotta go out.” She headed towards the door with Aryan following her.

“Where are you heading to at this time?” He asked her in a shaky voice.

“To pick up Arjyasi.”

“Who’s Arjya… .? Hang on a sec. Don’t tell me she is your daughter!”

“She’s. Ours. Studying at St. Mary’s in Class-VII.”

Having found that he was still waiting out after she had locked the house, she smiled that infectious smile of hers for the first time before remarking “Been waiting all these years, hoping against hope, that love would reunite us, My Love. Wanna come along with me?”

The end