When will you be back?
Your guess is as good as mine.
For good. That is.
What if I am gone for good?
***
K.S. Narendran wrote these words, an inner dialogue with his wife of 25 years, Chandrika Sharma. She was one of 239 people aboard Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 when it disappeared a year ago on March 8. Narendran still struggles at leading a life without her, as is revealed in the rest of his imagined conversation:
***
I have been thinking about a good long chat with you, Chandrika.
About time, don’t you think? What has taken you so long? Silly question. You always took far too long. The time you take to think, go through conversations in your head. Was I even needed to be around?
What happened to the Malaysian Airlines jet and will we ever find it? Watch “Vanished: The Mystery of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370” Tuesday at 9 p.m. ET.
Was that your usual acerbic blast? Should I protest? Be hurt? Was this how I imagined the conversation would go? You read my mind one more time.
I guess I shouldn’t fight. It’s true. On more than one occasion, I took too long and the moment passed. You, on the other hand, spoke with ease about how you felt. You didn’t linger too long and moved on. You always said that life was too short.
You are light and swift now. I see you no longer have to make an effort to keep pace with me on our daily walks.
Yes. Now I move with the speed of your thought. I am the air that you don’t see, your steady companion, moving with you, watching. I don’t have any expectations of getting your attention. I hold no grudges. I am beyond all that.
I have been with numerous people over the months. Across vast distances. Often at the same time. I went back in time and imagined the years ahead. How is that for time and space travel, huh? Unshackled. Free. No memory to chain me to the past. No aches. No pain. No chores. No striving.
–
I knew there would be more air disasters after yours, but that one brought home to me how the search is so daunting. Even though they had pinpointed where they lost contact with the plane, it still took three days to locate it and then a few weeks to salvage the wreckage and bodies. And those waters were some 100 meters deep. MH370 could be 4 kilometers deep “somewhere” in the Indian Ocean. It told me we may never find it. Never find you.
In my mind I find that unacceptable. Where is the goddam plane? Where are the passengers? What happened to them? I wish you could tell me the answers. But perhaps you do not know.
So what am I stuck at? I think it has to do with acceptance of what seems like an irreversible loss. I am not being sufficiently pragmatic in responding to an event that continues to defy explanation.
The other day, after a hard grinding walk, I was lying flat on my back in the apartment doing my stretches in about the same time and place that you would in your daily routine to stay fit. Unannounced, a thought entered: “What if the phone rang and it was you?”
And just then, the phone rang. I told myself: “This can’t be true. It can’t be you calling.” And, of course, it wasn’t. But those seconds let me see that no matter how far my rational mind had moved on, at some indefinable depths of my being there remain remnants of expectations that cold thought or reason could not banish.
I fantasize about new facts being unearthed. Incontrovertible evidence. Then I could say: “That’s it. Case closed. Time to move on.” You know, like the ending of a Sherlock Holmes novel.
I can’t say I have a well-settled or meaningful routine anymore. I do some of the things you used to do, including mundane things like waking up early — around 6:30 — and making coffee for my mother. But I’ve found it quite difficult to remain focused. I get stressed a lot more quickly.
The evenings are particularly difficult. After my walk, I feel I don’t know what I should do. I talk to Meghna. Or catch up with news on the computer. I watch old TV shows. I like “The Guardian” and “Boston Legal.” Generally I doze off.
Shall we say goodbye now, Naren?
OK. But just one more thing. The house in Kotagiri, the one in the hills, the one we planned for so long — I am hoping construction will be finished soon.
Do you remember how we discussed it before you left on your trip? I wrestled with whether I should go ahead with building the place that was going to be our dream home. But who knows how I will feel a few years from now, eh?
It is like you had envisioned it. Full of light and air and warmth. A space to listen to the birds and a space for quiet reflection. It should be ready by March 30, your birthday. You are turning 52.
Maybe you will be there that day, Chandrika. With me.
Goodbye, for now.
Follow CNN’s Moni Basu on Twitter
