Mohita opened her balcony door and, as always, her eyes darted to the house across the lane. The curtains were drawn but Mohita could picturise the wall with the framed picture.
She had just recently moved in from another locality. There, her house had overlooked the road, a boring, lethargic road with little traffic or view. She had loved this house because of its vibrant atmosphere. There were houses around and children played in the common areas. After a week of moving in, one evening she stood in the balcony looking down at the children when the light came on in the house across the narrow lane that separated them. A lady placed some bags on the sofa and sat down beside it, evidently tired.
Mohita was about to look away, embarrassed at peeping into somebody's house, when the framed picture on the wall right across where she stood caught her eye. It seemed to be a group photo but the details were not clear.
It must be the fact that she could see but not discern that aroused her curiosity. For, since that day, she had been drawn to the balcony only to stare at that picture. The more she saw it, the more intrigued she became. Who were those people? Was it taken at a wedding? How important was it to have the photos of those people hung in the drawing-room?
Unwittingly, her mind would drift to the walls of her own home, adorned with impersonal posters and some showpieces. She could never decide which photos should be hung and so she had never got any framed and put up. The few that she had were gifted during farewells and other occasions and not important enough to deserve a place on her wall.
Her husband Shiv was no help there. He seemed indifferent to home decor. All he needed was a bean bag, the air conditioner and the laptop.
The lady of the house was a little old and lived with a man, presumably her husband. Mohita had not seen any children around. She would stare hard at the picture to see if it was their family photo. But it was not like a traditional family portrait, so maybe it was a candid picture, taken on some occasion. She felt it reflected happiness. In that silent house where only the old couple lived, it must be a bright spot, she thought. But immediately she wondered why the couple never seemed to pause to look at it. It was like any other showpiece, forgotten after the initial excitement of being hung at the best spot in the house. It was placed just right to catch the light from the window during the day and the bulb in the night.
Most days the curtains were closed and Mohita thought it a bonus if she could glimpse it. The couple seemed to lead a very busy life. They returned late, and she would know it by the light that filtered through the curtains. On such evenings, the curtains would remain closed. They seemed to leave early too most of the time. Even on weekends, they seemed to be out of the house a lot. Or, maybe it was open but she was tied up with her chores and so she missed the opportunity to catch a glimpse.
It was silly, really. She couldn't imagine how she had become so obsessed with an obscure picture. In her parents' home, they loved hanging happy pictures. They rarely took pictures, but if they did, it was surely framed and a wall dedicated to it would sport the new pic, the old one going into a trunk. When relatives and friends came, the pictures would come out and the happy moments would be revisited. It was her job to rescue the visitor from dying of boredom hearing inconsequential anecdotes associated with the photos.
Mohita laughed, thinking of how Shiv had been subjected to a prolonged session because she and her mother had not been there to rescue him. He had just moved into the city and his father and her father had been colleagues. It was just a courtesy call, probably meant to last a few minutes, but her father had a photo of Shiv's father, taken during retirement - whose, she couldn't remember now and she couldn't ask Shiv for he wouldn't like to be reminded of that day! Out came that photo, and with that, all the other photos with the anecdotes trailing behind.
When Mohita returned from work, she saw the trapped deer look about him. She had felt her motherly instincts rise. Maybe that was the moment she had fallen in love with him too. His mind had no other thoughts but to escape and she had deftly helped him.
She looked at her house and decided that whether Shiv wanted it or not, she was going to put up some pictures, maybe from their wedding. At least one of the two of them, blown up. No, that would be too much. She looked back at the neighbour's house and felt her curiosity assume an edge of urgency. What could they have hung on the wall? She felt frustrated. The lady and she had never even seen each other directly and so there was no excuse to visit her. Though some neighbours Mohita had made friends with mentioned the couple, none seemed to be friends with them. What reason could she come up with to drop in on the lady?
Maybe the universe heard her and pitied her. For soon enough she got an opportunity. The neighbourhood she lived in was going to have its annual get together and her next-door neighbour Shilpa was in charge of collecting the names of those interested in participating and the money for dinner. Mohita was excited and volunteered to help collect from the houses across the lane. Shilpa was relieved and gladly gave Mohita the details she would have to share with the residents.
Mohita dressed carefully and practiced her best smile before she rang the bell of the neighbour with the framed picture. The lady frowned for a second and then smiled. "You have moved in recently to the house across the road?" she asked and welcomed Mohita in.
Mohita felt she was entering a shrine and chose a spot in the drawing-room from where she could look at the picture without being obvious about it. She would have an eye full so that she never thought about it again.
She looked up on the wall and looked at the framed picture. She felt confused. Was this what she had been eager to see all this while? Instead of a family photo, she was staring at a photo of a machine with several people around it. It was not even taken well and was covered with dust.
She pointed at it and asked the lady, "That...?"
The lady turned to look at it and laughed, "Oh that? My husband used to run a factory and this was taken then. When he shut his company, he didn't know what to do with this. Initially, he felt sentimental so he put it up here. But I think he has even forgotten all about it."
"Oh... Nice," Mohita said, collected the money and left soon after.
When she reached the ground floor of the building, she paused, still a little uncertain of how she felt. Disappointed? Relieved?
She felt a laugh rumble through her and then she gave it expression, a loud, hearty laugh at herself for her foolishness. All the eagerness and stories and memories! All for a photo that carried no meaning, no memories, hanging their forgotten and neglected.
At least she had gained a friend in the lady and was cured of some of her romanticism!
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