We don’t all have the same story baby. We, the inmates of this nursing home, have different stories to tell, my dear. Our stories are not the only ones you see in movies for pity. Many of us did not come here because our children were enemies. After saying that, the father sat down in his wheel chair looking at the light shining there in total silence. Malavika asked what made Ramacha mood off. Still silence. She said if I come now then we can set the mood and she walked with me. Snehathiram is a refuge for those who have no one. There are girls here. There is also a school for them. Adjacent to it is the nursing home. I have come to this beach of love many times with my grandmother. Grandma had a habit of buying some things and bringing them here. I was part of it. But grandma is not here today. Today was grandmother’s Shradham. Reached here around five o’clock in the evening. Whenever Geetamma came, she would catch him and tell him some news. Geetamma is the elder woman of the place and the mother of Snehathira. Malavika came as a glass of stew while reminiscing about her grandmother. There was a birthday party here today. The sweetness of the stew took me to grandma’s side. I felt that my grandmother gave me this sweet for coming here without forgetting.
Malvika is an inmate there. Now studying nursing. He is Geetamma’s right hand and assistant. Geetamma herself gave her the name Malavika when she joined there. There is a small hill on the eastern side of Snehathira which is easy to climb. There is a lamp still burning in memory of the Guru and a garden around it. It was my grandmother’s habit to go there and take care of the cowshed. When I got down there, Malavika also came with me. We went there when we heard something loud from the nursing home on the way. A father sitting in a wheel chair and another father said something and quarreled. Malavika intervened and settled the matter quickly. Like obedient children they became friends before her. That’s when my father, who was sitting in a wheel chair, said to me, “We all have different stories, my dear. We, the inmates of this nursing home, have different stories to tell.”
From there, I asked Malavika about the matter while walking towards the lamp floor. That’s when she told the story of that father. Even though his wife died, he raised his only son well. After his studies, he also joined his father by doing whatever jobs he could get. Sometime in the meantime, even though he did not want to leave his father, he agreed to a foreign job that came through his father’s insistence. The father had chosen his own way to this nursing home so that he would not turn down the opportunity out of love for him because of the infirmities of age. Seeing his son’s suffering, he paid the money by mortgaging his house and land because he wanted him to be in a better position. But it was a scam. What the agent gave him was drugs. Without knowing that, the poor man was caught by the police and imprisoned without anyone to help him. I don’t know what will happen next. The house and place that was there is gone. There was a dispute where the son joked that the father had been brought here and escaped abroad. That’s what he said, “we all have the same story, baby.”
It’s past six o’clock. The sun fades and darkness begins to spread. When the lamp reached the floor and prayed with her and returned, “we all have the same story, baby” these words lingered in my mind. Yes, every story is different. Every life. He looked straight at Malavika. She also looked at me. She seemed to glow in the evening light. She was asked that “Malavika’s story has not been told yet”. She replied that she has not asked me yet. But now it has been asked. She smiled at me. Then he said that there is no time now, maybe later. I asked the other question, “Let’s see.” She replied with a fake smile. If you want to see it, you can come here anytime. That bright face never looked at me again. I understood the meaning of what she said when I reached Sneha Thiram by walking. By then she had run inside and hid. But when I took the car and went back, I saw two eyes looking at me eager to tell the story. And a bright star in that red sky was smiling at me..
Content Summary: Malayalam Short Story ‘Snehatheeram’ written by Vinod Nellippilly