The Unconditional Love (1033 words)

Malavika walked slowly on the familiar pathway leading to the house where she had lived for over two decades. But the garden looked now uncared for, with bushes and weeds all around. It had not been swept clean of the fallen leaves for days together. It looked different when she lived here, with flower plants and dahlias in plenty and green shrubs all around. It had been more than ten years since she had visited this place.

She was the only child of her parents. She was more of a mama’s child, loving her mom, Geeta, most. Her dad was on tour for ten days a month, and the other days he was absorbed in his work. He quarrelled frequently with her mom, mostly on flimsy grounds, though she loved him very much. Abrasive and short-tempered as he was, Malavika could not recollect any occasion on which he heartily laughed.

Malavika remembers her mom telling her once, when she was in her teens, how he reacted at her birth because she was a girl, showing his irritability and disappointment in the presence of nurses.

She doesn’t remember a single occasion where he had lifted her in his arms, though as a child she frequently snuggled by his legs, hoping to be hoisted up. Her mom used to console her, saying that her dad, Purush, was not the demonstrative type but had affection deep inside his heart for her. Malavika never believed her on this one point.

Geeta had a sudden stroke when she was barely forty-five. Her dad was three years older than her. She didn’t live long after that. In a few months, she passed away. Malavika was just seventeen. Her dad put her in a hostel till she finished her education and found a job. She did not visit her dad frequently, except on long vacations or when the hostel was closed, and even then, she would be sent to her aunt’s house when he went on tour. There was no bond of affection between them.

She loved a colleague, and when she confided in Purush, he showed no interest or expressed his view. Malavika married him soon after she got a job. Though invited to her wedding, he did not attend, pleading pressing official work away in a faraway city.

It was a great shock to learn a year later from her aunt that her father had married someone without even telling her. It hurt her most that he did not consider it necessary even to inform her. She was also never invited to the home thereafter, nor did she go. There was practically no communication except when Malavika informed him about the birth of a baby girl. Purush neither visited her nor greeted her.

Years had passed by without any contact. It was a week ago that she heard from her old aunt that her dad had fallen sick and was also struggling financially. It appeared rather ironic that he had two young daughters from his second wife. Except for the house that was under mortgage for a loan, it seemed that he did not have much wealth or a good income. Malavika thought of her mom and wondered what she would have wished her to do in the circumstances.

With a heavy heart, she walked up the steps to his house and pressed the bell. She saw the curtain of the window being moved slightly, and a lady’s face appeared for a fraction of a second. She waited and again saw some movement behind the curtain. The faces of two cute girls appeared but did not disappear. They smiled at her, and Malavika returned it with a big smile.

The door opened slightly, and her father peeped out. When Purush saw her, he stepped out and stared at her silently for what seemed like a long moment. His face showed surprise, hesitation, and something she could not quite read.

Unable to bear the silence, she said, “Daddy, I am Malavika. It has been nearly ten years since we last met.”

“Yes… I know,” he said slowly. “I wasn’t expecting you. What brings you here after so long?” His voice was tired, not harsh, but guarded.

“Saroj aunty told me that you were not well and have been confined to bed for some time. I wanted to see you. You look weak… I hope you are feeling better. What is troubling you?” she asked, even as she noticed the lady and children watching from behind the curtain.

He did not invite her inside. After a pause, he said, “Life hasn’t been kind these days. But… It’s nothing for you to worry about. You have your own world now.” There was a trace of bitterness, but also weariness in his tone.

She hesitated, then said softly, “You are still my father.”

He looked away. “You left long ago, Malavika. I didn’t know if you still wanted to remember me.” His voice trembled slightly, though he tried to control it. “I thought… You have moved on.”

“I never stopped caring,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I have a family now, responsibilities… and not much left.” He paused. “I didn’t know how to bridge the distance between us.”

The silence between them became unbearable. Malavika wiped her tears, nodded, and turned back slowly.

As she walked away, she heard the door close, not slammed, but shut with quiet finality.

She stopped by her car, opened her purse, took out an envelope she had brought, and dropped it into the post box fixed by the side of the door. Then she walked back and drove away without looking back.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. The man, his wife, and the two girls stepped out. He noticed an envelope protruding from the box. He took it out and opened it with trembling hands.

Inside was an account-payee cheque drawn in his name, for rupees ten lakhs.

He stood frozen, his eyes moist, realising for the first time the depth of Malavika’s love, silent and enduring, for him, which he had failed to recognise.

He decided to get Malavika's phone number and address from Saroj aunt.