ARather Long Short Story 4. 6 October 2013.

I was still wondering about how the tragedy struck this angelic pair of brother and sister when I noticed Emma fidgeting with a rather heavy-looking watch on her slender wrist. It looked very odd on her wrist because it was the kind of watch I generally noticed on the wrists of army—personnel.

 To be contd.

6 0ct0ber 2013

4.

I was extremely tired on that day, but I realized that for Emma and Charles, this chance meeting of ours was something like an oasis. They seemed to cherish these moments of contact. My being a stranger did not hinder the closeness they had begun to feel for me by now. Charles had finished his coffee, but unlike in our last meeting, he was not fidgety and troublesome now. He was not eager to go home. I saw him prodding his sister about something. Emma understood it and looked at him and me in amusement. “He wants to share something with you. It is something we are not allowed to look at when we are at home. So he carries it secretly in his schoolbag.” I was a bit alarmed as I heard her say this. I saw Charles looking at me eagerly and Emma looking at him and smiling indulgently. I was wary. I said haltingly, “Umm, well, I hope it’s nothing out of the way.” Emma’s expression changed rapidly from amusement and indulgence to a deep hurt. There were tears in her eyes. I was afraid she might just get up and leave. I ignored her tears and covered up my lack of tact by leaning across the table and reaching out to Charles with a great display of joviality and said, “Oh yeah! Charles, what is the secret you want to share with me?” Charles, who was blissfully unaware of the tense moment between me and his sister, fished out something from the deep pocket of his schoolbag and spread it out before me. It was a black and white photograph of a man in the army uniform. The man was full of health and energy and smiled across to the camera with the joy of life shining in every feature of his remarkably handsome face.  When I looked at Charles leaning across the table, watching me proudly, there was no need for me to guess further. I looked at Emma remorsefully. She had mastered the tears, but she was in no mood to talk to me now.

I said, “Is this your father?” She just nodded. I obviously could not expect her to say more than this. I could not show any further curiosity than what was proper at that moment.

After some moments of silence I ventured to say, “But you should be proud of this photo you have of your father. Why do you have to hide it in Charles’s schoolbag? Is this the only photo you have of your father?”

Emma said, “No, we have an album full of photos. But our aunt has taken it away from us. This we had found left behind in my mother’s drawer. My aunt says that children like us should not get stuck in the past, we have a long way to go, she says, and we must look ahead.”

I failed to understand this piece of wisdom on the part of her aunt, but Emma seemed to have no problem with that.

To be contd.