Shadow-NIZHAL -Tamil short story translated

Short Story 4

Shadow

It was in the mild February sunshine that I first saw him. The moment I saw him, affection welled up in my heart. With his beautiful, sparkling eyes and the way he looked at me with waves of emotion—call it love, affection, or whatever you wish. That relationship that began that day... hmm... what can I say? He became an integral part of my home.

I told him about him when I spoke to my son on the phone from his college hostel. My son replied, "See if you can manage; it's a good decision, Mom. It's your life. Happy for you. I'm coming to Chennai this weekend and I'll meet him, too." My younger one was even happier than me. "Having a male companion is good, isn't it?" he said. Except during my office hours, he and I were just so happy together. The neighbors all started murmuring, of course. Most people feel sad about others' happiness, but not everyone—I'm not like that.

Our bond grew very close from dawn until bedtime. He would sleep comfortably with his leg over me on the bed.

Both of us loved the morning hours best. I used to think that only I had this undying love for early mornings, but when I told him about it, he enthusiastically agreed. There's something mysteriously beautiful about dawn, and neither of us ever misses appreciating this mystery.

Around 5:30, I would set out wearing a T-shirt, track pants, and walking shoes, and he would come along without a care in the world. Those days... some experiences cannot be bought at any price.

In the joy of inhaling the dawn, the eastern sky gradually reddens like a new bride. Every day, I must witness the moment when the day breaks, but somehow, that mysterious moment always eludes detection. Our walk continues. Starting slowly at the second cross street in Gandhi Nagar, Adyar, by the time we turn right near Bala Vidya Mandir School at the fourth cross, our walking pace has increased.

Many people who see me smile at me in a friendly way, and they look at him with respect. Some have asked me how I manage at this age, and I would just smile and evade the question. People his age would run up to talk to him. Others would glare at him. But ignoring everything, he would continue his majestic, stylish gait, minding only himself and his walk. There would be at least a 1-meter distance between us. Watching him, I wonder if he was some kind of sage. I would ask him, "Shall we turn back?" and we would have reached Malar Hospital by then. He would nod his head vigorously in agreement.

What a comforting friendship, love, and companionship this is. Perhaps it's a gift from God to those who have no one, like a shady tree providing relief in the hot sun. He would eat with me and know my return time better than my children. He's the star of every event in my life. All my friends and relatives treat him with great affection. He, too, is very loving with everyone while maintaining a certain dignity.

Years passed, and circumstances required me to go to America. My friend said he would take care of him. Before leaving, we hugged each other and wept bitterly. As I had promised him, we would talk on Skype regularly. He would run and sit down, and in his usual style—with teary smiles and nodding—we would meet for an hour. At the end of our conversations, he would be composed while I would be on the edge of sadness. At this point, I must express a million thanks for technology development.

When I returned to Chennai, I went to see him, but he was furious with me. It took a week for him to be pacified.

This is how our relationship grew. When I had to go to America again, he was very understanding, asking, "Going to their house?" and even went along with my friend. Two months passed, and on May 7th, I received a text message from my friend saying that after his morning bath, he had laid his head on the threshold, gazed at the street, and passed away. Perhaps he was wondering if he would ever see me again.

Many sleepless nights passed with memories of him... I wondered how I would live without him when I returned to India.

There was a small irritation in my mind—what difference does it make who's there and who's gone? Nothing ever stops. Sometimes, a deep sigh brings good relief.

Relationships may be short stories, but emotions are continuing serials. I think about him every day, especially in the mornings. Two others are walking like us, but no one is like my companion. He was my shadow. His name was Shadow. My dear friend.