Some struck through words...

Seema was packing her belongings. Her son, Rohan had bought a bunglow in Mumbai. Her husband and she having been retired from their respective jobs, had decided to move from Delhi to Mumbai with their son.

Seema had spent 30 years in this house , many things were placed at a particular location for years , never to be looked back. Today, she had to make a choice , what to carry along with her. The clothes, foot wears, few books, jewelry, doctors' prescriptions, daily use things had already found their place in big American tourister bags. Now Seema entered her store room ; last visit to this place was paid back in November, the previous year Diwali ,to keep back the lighting accessories. Over the attic, there was a big carton, lying there since time immemorial ( Seema carried it with her at time of her marriage and the carton remained unopened all the years) waiting like a stone for its turn.

The destined day had arrived. Seema reached over to bring it down and cut the tape with kitchen knife. She was lost into it. She got her childhood slam books , a school picnic photograph , her pink butterfly hair clip , School captain badge ,gifts from friends( some of them had already left for their heavenly abode), her 1st office identity card and many more memories. Time traveled in backward direction , she relived every moment- she felt happy seeing her nursery rhyme book , she was sad looking at a sorry note she had written to her mom for speaking rudely , it was amazing experience. Then there was an old piece of paper of a ruled note book with some words written but struck through beyond recognition.

The paper, she remembered every bit of it , every inch of detail although years had passed. It was back in summer of 1975 , she had joined her 1st job with an engineering firm. Working woman ( with a subclass an Engineer) was a rare species at that time for software had not yet spread its magic wings. Seema was lone girl in a batch of 40 odd recruits. She was sent to a remote town in southern India for training. The accent was hard to catch up , greasy summers and to top it all boring engineering studies. She made a chat friend, the batch mate sitting next to her. They used to exchange notes and made it sure all the literature was struck through properly to keep it from others. It was discipline friendly and play safe technique until they were caught. July 19th , it was , the piece of paper still bore the date. The conversation began as a routine.

'Seema: I am feeling sleepy and this Mallu's lecture is lullaby to me ....
The guy: Should I take your sleepiness away ;-)
Seema: Can u??? u seem 2 b very confident ....
The guy: Should I ????
Seema: Ok... lets c who wins... d game begins.. mallu lullaby Vs Delhi Gossip machine...
The guy : What if...if I say I wanna propose you...

Before Seema could answer , the teacher noticed exchange of notes and asked the guy to present it before him. The guy declined and tore it off. The conversation remained incomplete. Seema saved the paper , it was 1st proposal to her which she could never answer.

The door creaked and 4 year old Sunny entered. " Gramma.. papa says you have packed enough luggage , we would buy other things in Mumbai", said the kid. Seema came back to present , she packed back the carton and put it over the attic.

8 PM that night , she left for Mumbai.