As the years passed, the elders of both families died one after another. Sugandhi’s father-in-law and mother-in-law also passed away. The hostility between the two families continued—like the little wall itself, existing and yet somehow almost absent.
For some time afterwards, the back door of the neighbouring house, where Maria’s husband and two sons lived, was rarely opened. Squirrels and birds ate the fruit from the trees there, while the backyard of the once-grand house lay covered in dust, like a painting that had been left unfinished.
When Maria’s elder son got married, Sugandhi’s family was not invited. The same way they weren’t invited when Sugandhi’s daughter and son had married.
After the wedding, when the new bride arrived at the neighbouring house accompanied by band music, Sugandhi watched her with delight. So what if they no longer spoke? Rajan, Maria’s son, was still very dear to her. Seeing his wife filled Sugandhi with a special happiness. A voice from inside her house interrupted her moment of attention.
“Mmm…kk…mmm…”
Sugandhi understood the sound immediately. It was her husband. He had soiled the bed.
At that tiny sound, she immediately answered, “I’m coming,” and went inside without a moment’s delay. She first changed her husband’s clothes and dressed him in clean ones. Then she cleaned the house with disinfectant. After that, she carried the soiled cloth to the backyard, washed it and hung it out to dry. Several minutes had passed before she finished.
It was only after Maria’s daughter-in-law arrived that sounds began to be heard again from the back of the neighbouring house. Perhaps the new bride, Selvi, had begun cleaning the neglected backyard little by little. From the cheerful jingling of her anklets and the energetic way she completed every task, Sugandhi thought that she must be a lively, hardworking and good-natured young woman.
Though Sugandhi sometimes glanced over while working, she never spoke to Selvi. She had to devote herself entirely to her husband, and simply had no time. From time to time, Selvi would smile at her from the other side of the wall.
Ignoring the fact that the two families did not speak to each other, Selvi leaned over the wall one day and spoke to Sugandhi for the first time.
“Sugandhi aunty, are you well? I heard you were friends with my mother-in-law. Is that true?”
Sugandhi, who was washing her husband’s soiled cloth, smiled at the young woman’s innocent question.
She looked towards Selvi and answered her affectionately, recalling memories of Maria. They were talking cheerfully when sounds from inside Sugandhi’s house reached her.
“I’ll come, dear,” she said, and hurried inside to attend to her husband.
Although the two women spoke occasionally after that, Sugandhi never initiated the conversation. Even though people moving around the front of the houses were unlikely to know that they were talking in the backyard, both women kept their voices low.
And yet, one day, Sugandhi herself found a reason to speak to Selvi.
“What happened, dear? I haven’t seen you for a week.”
Before Selvi could answer the gentle question, tears began streaming from her eyes.
“Aunty… my mother… my mother is gone.”
“Oh, no…” Sugandhi’s heart melted towards Selvi. She remembered the woman whom the neighbouring women had pointed out on Selvi’s wedding day—the pale, slightly stooped figure who had walked past as though she had no strength left.
“Are you the only daughter in your family?”
“No… I have a younger brother…”
“Where is your brother?”
“My brother…” Selvi had just begun to answer when the sound of her husband’s groan reached Sugandhi from inside.
“Don’t cry, dear. If you cry, won’t your mother’s soul be sad too? Don’t cry, child.”
“Mmm…kk…kkk…” A sound came from inside Sugandhi’s house.
“I’ll come and talk to you in a little while.”
After that, the two women never got the chance to continue that conversation.
Over the next few months, several changes took place in both houses.
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