Forgetting by the Lake by Akshita Himatsingka

Renata’s family picture showed parents, two kids, and a pet elephant. She invited me to visit her family’s house and I agreed because they lived by a beautiful lake. They owned hotels which gave them the opportunity to socialize with foreigners. Sona, their elephant took daily baths at the lake except in winter, when instead, water was heated and poured over her. All visitors went home with stories of the majestic yet friendly elephant.
    “Is it true that elephants never forget anything?” I asked Renata on the train. The emotions I suppressed were forcing themselves through flashbacks. No, she was a girl, it couldn’t be real. “No, it’s just a common myth. Although they do have strong memories” she said.

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    On my first night in their house, it rained heavily. Renata cooked dinner and I chatted briefly with her mother. She used to be an actress in her twenties but left work to support her husband’s dream of building hotels by the lake. Years later, he bought her the elephant, tributing her biggest hit. In a movie about a safari mishap, she had been a gallant hero. At forty, however, her arthritis had confined her to the house. We were the only external company she had had in a while.
    She suggested Renata take me to the lake and afterward to a historic temple. She forbade us to visit the elephant. “Sona’s been sick, I’d prefer that you don’t see her in this condition,” she explained.  Renata, however, told me that we would get to see her anyway when she goes to bathe in the lake. “You just have to manage to get up early. She visits the lake at dawn,” she told me.
    For the next few days, we went boating daily and discussed our career goals. Renata was planning to move home permanently to care for her mother and help the family business, and I was hoping to get a high-paying job in the capital. We both knew the unsaid and so spent every moment like it was the last. One day I suggested, “Let’s swim today.” But Renata was reluctant, “Girls don’t do that here. It isn’t allowed”. The lake had started to feel like home, so I convinced her to break the rules. We sneaked out at dawn and jumped into the chilly water. The cold made adrenaline soar and I was about to say the unthinkable, but a vision stopped me. I saw Sona in the shallow end with her caretaker.
    She looked otherworldly and wild. I was afraid to reach toward her but Renata assured me that Sona wouldn’t hurt me. 
    “What happened to her? She looks so frail!” Renata asked the caretaker.
    “Loneliness is making her sick but auntie does not want Sona to go out much. She says it’s bad for her to be seen by outsiders. It makes people envious and they put the evil eye on your family,” he explained.
    “What rubbish! Everyone loves Sona. All these years of her walking around have brought nothing but joy to the family,” Renata replied. 
    In the evening Renata confronted her mother which only made her angry. “You met Sona? Why? I forbade you to. I guess you will never listen,” mother snarked.
    “But she’s lonely, Ma. She needs to meet people.”
    “She’s an animal, Renata! Your own sick mother stays alone all day! At least Sona gets to go to the lake. I’m a prisoner.”
    That was the first time I saw Renata cry. Her mother used to love Sona. Auntie had never found friends in the village and when the kids had moved away for college, Sona had been her only confidant. But after her diagnosis, she had become disconnected. Sona was a reminder, twice bittersweet, of things she wanted to forget. 
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That night, I held Renata as we lay together. We were brave, but not brave enough.
    Moonlight shone over the lake and I saw the image reflected in the mirror opposing our window. Auntie stayed up too looking at the same view from her room.  
    This was peace, she had convinced herself. Yet seeing the elephant outside every day made her heart ache. She remembered those days when people screamed praise for the brave woman they had seen on the screen. Before she had been a wife and a mother, she had been ‘Sona’ for them, the character they admired on-screen. Her husband worked late nights and the children only visited once every year. Distance had helped her wonder, who wouldn’t be envious of the elephant? Sona had no responsibilities; Sona had more freedom than any human she had ever known. 
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    The next morning Renata went to her mother’s room and found her missing. Cold air from the open window gave her shivers. 
    Her father was out of state for work and his phone was unreachable. We looked for her everywhere and eventually called the police. They found auntie in her nightdress, on a boat in the middle of the lake, giddily smiling. When questioned, she said she did not recall how she reached there. She only remembered Sona talking to her. “There isn’t much time. Sona told me to live,” she told us. 
    Auntie was running a fever. In the house, Renata made soup, and doctors were called in. Her feet were swollen and her body shivered in pain.
    Seeing Renata’s resilience brought back memories. She was beautiful. 
    I knew it was time for me to leave.
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    Renata’s family eventually decided to donate Sona to a zoo. She now has the company of other elephants like her. Auntie was shifted to a better facility in the city. Renata decorated her hospital bedside with pictures from important moments in her life. 
    I found new friends and my old life drifted away.
    Renata and I talk sometimes, but our schedules never match up allowing a meeting. My memories have faded, and time has brought me closure. 
    However, I still think of Sona, and wonder if he remembers everything.



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Akshita Himatsingka (she/her) is a writer from India. Her work has been published in Beetle Magazine, Bitchin' Kitsch, Livewire, and Shotgun Honey.