The house was right next to Shyam's home. He could see it through his window. It was dull, lifeless, and he would watch the woman cook her food, eat and then sleep. Sometimes he saw her looking at a photograph and crying.
Shyam was an adopted child. After being shifted from various foster homes, a Bengali family had adopted him. They were nice to him, but they fought a lot amongst themselves. Everyday there was a huge fight between the husband and wife. The wife would throw the utensils, and suddenly Shyam could hear a loud smack. Once he found the wife looking pale, lying on the floor, crying, and the husband above her, kicking. Shyam couldn't bear it. His days would go locked up in his room, playing, making so much noise so as to drown their fights and abuses.
They didn't know, but he cried himself to sleep. One night, as he tried to sleep, teary faced, he heard a sweet lullaby. It was a sweet voice, gentle, caring, coming through his window. He felt himself drift off. Soon an unspoken bond had formed. Every night Shyam would fall asleep listening to the beautiful lullaby coming from the other house. He couldn't hear the shouting at night.
This went on for a while, he wondered if he should visit her. He went to the house but the door was locked. Maybe she had gone to the market. He waited for her outside. Soon it was nightfall and he was called home for dinner. Again during dinner, the husband and wife had a major fight over the salt content of the curry. The argument passed from the curry to his inability to produce a child. The husband, vociferous, angered, punched her and then kicked away. Shyam ran to his room, crying, waiting to hear the soothing lullaby. As he lay in bed, he heard the beautiful voice.
Next morning he went over, locked again. He waited and waited, she didn't come. The mailman passing by saw Shyam. Shyam told him that he was waiting for the woman living in this house. The mailman took Shyam back home and decided to have a word with his parents. He told them that everyone in the neighborhood knew about their fights, but now things have gotten out of hand. The child is getting affected and if things don't sort out, serious damage can be caused. The child was waiting for the woman living in the next house. No one lives there, he said. Keep the child away, there are rumors, that a woman lived there. Her husband died in war, the news was unbearable for her. She smothered her children and later killed herself.
The mailman left, on his way wondering, how did Shyam know that a woman lived there.
Shyam was an adopted child. After being shifted from various foster homes, a Bengali family had adopted him. They were nice to him, but they fought a lot amongst themselves. Everyday there was a huge fight between the husband and wife. The wife would throw the utensils, and suddenly Shyam could hear a loud smack. Once he found the wife looking pale, lying on the floor, crying, and the husband above her, kicking. Shyam couldn't bear it. His days would go locked up in his room, playing, making so much noise so as to drown their fights and abuses.
They didn't know, but he cried himself to sleep. One night, as he tried to sleep, teary faced, he heard a sweet lullaby. It was a sweet voice, gentle, caring, coming through his window. He felt himself drift off. Soon an unspoken bond had formed. Every night Shyam would fall asleep listening to the beautiful lullaby coming from the other house. He couldn't hear the shouting at night.
This went on for a while, he wondered if he should visit her. He went to the house but the door was locked. Maybe she had gone to the market. He waited for her outside. Soon it was nightfall and he was called home for dinner. Again during dinner, the husband and wife had a major fight over the salt content of the curry. The argument passed from the curry to his inability to produce a child. The husband, vociferous, angered, punched her and then kicked away. Shyam ran to his room, crying, waiting to hear the soothing lullaby. As he lay in bed, he heard the beautiful voice.
Next morning he went over, locked again. He waited and waited, she didn't come. The mailman passing by saw Shyam. Shyam told him that he was waiting for the woman living in this house. The mailman took Shyam back home and decided to have a word with his parents. He told them that everyone in the neighborhood knew about their fights, but now things have gotten out of hand. The child is getting affected and if things don't sort out, serious damage can be caused. The child was waiting for the woman living in the next house. No one lives there, he said. Keep the child away, there are rumors, that a woman lived there. Her husband died in war, the news was unbearable for her. She smothered her children and later killed herself.
The mailman left, on his way wondering, how did Shyam know that a woman lived there.
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