He was standing there alone. Lost in the crowd. People were running here and there. On the streets cars and motorbikes were honking and speeding away. Everyone rushing towards their destination, busy with their own activities... A 30-some with a velvet handbag stepping into a mall, a school kid waving hands, an elderly couple, hordes of 20-some couples, a street vendor selling 'vada pavs' to his customers, a happy customer enjoying the 'paani puri', a college kid talking on phone having parked his bike to the gang way, so on and so forth... He was also in a rush. But he sensed he is not like everyone else over there. Yeah, most of them wore a smile.
She woke up from her sleep. Her nose was blocked and throat was paining. He had already left for office. She gave him a call. "Hello", she said, in a broken voice. "Honey, have some medicine, food and sleep for a while too. You will be all fine", he quipped. Sometimes, words shows it all; she thought.
A mail popped up on her laptop. "We have gone too far, opposite, enough not to return. We both tried, together, enough to come back. Its time, we should stop hurting each other; be in pain forever. Lets remain the distant. You are a free bird. Good luck" "Same to you", she replied.
It’s almost a year, no; to be precise, day after tomorrow, its exactly one year. Didn’t even realize how days went by. We will be celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary. He seems to be happy. I should also be happy, or not; I surpassed five years. From the day I got into the marriage trap.
Sunrays peeping through the broken glass of window were already hot enough. He got up from the bed, clasping his forehead with fingers; terrible hangover and a dry throat. She was lying next to him, sleeping. He headed to kitchen, opened the fridge and found no water. Damn!
She reached home tired carrying grocery baggages. She remembered she had missed to get the special tea powder for him; one good reason for him to shout. Cursing herself and frustrated she entered the hall.
“Honey, coffee for you?” He was heading towards kitchen.
She threw packages down, went and hugged him from behind, smiling.
And do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to love, honor and cherish, in good and bad time, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?” He smiled at the pastor, his woman and thought, whole life? He sighed and said “Do I, Yeah I do?” PS: Another try at 55 fiction writing...Inspired from another story...
Sara closed her eyes tight, dived deep into the blanket, but still couldn’t sleep properly. Not more than five minutes, she popped her head out; took a deep breath. Got up and sat on the bed with her blanket draped tightly on her. She moved her hands aimlessly on the bed. There was no one other than her; empty.
A breeze brushed her. She looked out. The sky looked adorable with stars and the stunning moon. She felt the breeze carried some message. Somebody was trying to call her, tell her something. Spreading her hands on the bed she closed her eyes. For the last few years she had shared this room with someone special, never had slept alone over here except for the last two days. It was all fun to be on this bed at any point of time.
She heaved a deep sigh
Again the breeze came. She got up from the bed and headed towards the window. With her moist eyes she saw the full moon. She felt as if it wanted to say something to her. Did she see a smile coming from the moon? They always used to imagine moon with smiles. With a shade of sadness she remembered how they used to get imaginative talking about moon. They used to humanize the moon and were their next best friend. They enjoyed the peaceful pearl colored moon rays that were showered upon them.
She went upstairs, opened the door and reached the terrace. The trees surrounding her house were not in their best of moods. The intermittent breeze was trying its best to wake them up and make the leaves dance with it. It seems they are also not in a mood. A heavy sadness prevailed over the area. She came to the corner of the terrace and stared at the moon. Moments flew and the moon winked at her. Rather she felt so. She pinched herself to check reality. Another stare at the moon she felt the moon was calling her: trying to say something.
She ran downstairs, past her bedroom, living hall and the main door in a jiffy and rushed on to the rocky garden outside her compound. Reaching onto the top of that rocky garden she looked up to the sky. The moon was shining more brightly showering silver rays. Panting, she could feel the presence of someone. She held her hands high pointing the moon. A cool breeze came from nowhere. She embraced herself tight. This is the spot where they used to chat about life, love and children, the place where they used to sing songs together, fight with each other under the moonlight, the place where they sat together in union with the nature.
Emma, I miss you…You were more than a twin sister to me. Hope, your untimely death will not part us away. Come hug me…
She could feel; the hug. The breeze, moonlight and the night hugged her.
His mother was throbbing her chest heavily. Her voiced cracked while conversed on phone. After the first call she dialed his father’s number, then someone and then someone else and he could feel her voice very dampened. He didn’t understand anything but realized there was something to worry. He tried to prod his mother to tell what happened but all in vain. Maybe a six year old is not supposed to know that. In half an hours time his father reached back at home. He had never seen him so early from office other than for his birthdays. By the time his mother had wrapped herself in some old Sari of hers. There were no traits of make ups on her face this time and he wondered how the hell in such a less time she got ready to go out. He don’t remember even one instance where his father hadn’t had waited for his mother to get ready for an outing. “What about me. I am also coming.” He tried to get in with their plan. His mother looked at him helplessly; her eyes read and teary and her nose leaking a bit. The kerchief she used was almost wet and she started to use the tip of her saree too. “No you are not coming. Play with your grandfather and grandmother”, his father quipped. Following that, came a pat of grandmother which irritated him. He loves to be with his old grandfather who got his white mustache polished everyday, every minute: but not today. He wanted to be with his mother. But what a six year old child can do. ‘This world is that of elders’ he thought. After some five hours they came back. He asked where they had gone. Mom didn’t say much. She went to the bathroom. Her face was swelled upon. Again, this is the first time that his mother didn’t plant a kiss after coming back from an outing. He felt bad for his cheeks. He looked up to his father. He was there talking to the elders in a very hushed voice. He remembers his father doing talks in a hushed voice whenever he wanted to give any surprise to anyone; and always it flopped big time. A smile creaked for a second and he got a feeling there is some surprise in store. “What happened, Papa?” He went near to his father and tried to stand on his feet. He always loves doing that. His father got long legs and it is always a fun to stand on his feet cuddling his legs. He could feel his father’s long fingers passing through his silky hair. He looked up his father’s face. “My Superman”, his father started, “your sister Priya went for a trip. She didn’t even tell anyone of us. We don’t know why she went but now you won’t have her around you to play with. She won’t be there to play ‘hide and seek’ or ‘snake ladder’ and sing rhymes to you. She was his best sister, his maternal aunt’s daughter. Long hair, wide smile, soft cheeks, magical fingers, lengthy skirts, golden nose ring, red bangles on her both hands; he used to love her presence. She used to make him sleep in peace at nights whenever she was here. But those things won’t be there anymore. That is what his father says to him. “But why?” he asked again and again. “She might be angry with us or may be she don’t love us.” By saying that, his father got up and headed to the bedroom. He sat there only. Where would have she gone? With whom she might have gone? Why she hadn't told anyone before going? When is she going to return back? Or where should we go to meet her again?
-->And what is this ‘suicide’ thing which he overheard his father saying to his grand father? He stood there thinking.
He kept his mobile aside. Every one minute he passed a glance over it. Confirmed there was no call missed. He was feeling restless. He turned here and there on the bed. He closed his eyes and covered his head down below the pillow. The noise of fan was piercing his ears. He tightened the grip of pillow over himself. He twined his legs. Two minutes past that he threw the pillow towards the door. Got up from the bed and got hold of the cigarette packet. He lit one fag in a jiffy. Smoke tunneled from him like from a steam engine. He verified the mobile once again. The wrinkles on his face were showing the frustration. He went to the bathroom to get a leak. A drop or two; There was nothing more to come. Flushed the toilet and came back to the room, slamming the door.
He took his mobile in hand, dialed the short dial number. He saw screen showing her name. It read ‘Calling Babez’, it read. Before getting connected he canceled the call. A deep sigh came out from him. He kept the mobile back, crawled back into the bed. He tried to close his eyes tight. Few minutes went by. He got up back and looked at the mobile. It was lying there silent, unmoved, as if this was not the first time all these are happening. He felt each second passing like decades.
Two minutes. The mobile started ringing. He grabbed it quickly and checked the name. It was her only. He kept it back. The rings went on and then dead. The screen showed ‘1 Missed Call’. He stared at the mobile. It again started ringing. One ring, second ring, third, fourth and so on. Before it got dead he jumped and got the mobile, his fingers pressed the button. The call was on.
“I am sorry”, a sweet trembled voice filled with grief whispered.
A moment of pause.
“No, I am sorry” He said.
Another moment of silence, but this was a sweet one.
Both smiled, burgeoning to laughter.
It take only few words to melt down the tension resulted from a fracas.
The whistle of the pressure cooker cried aloud. Susheela was sweeping the floor in the front room. Its only the first whistle, she thought. The phenol smell was punching her nose. Manoj sat there reading newspaper. Dressed in his company uniform this is his routine before the company bus comes to pick him up. He was a man in his early fifties. His face was showing his ageing process through some wrinkles here and there. Some grey hairs had already found its place among the others. When Asha and Anusha teased him of getting old he would quip that’s the premonition of something good that is going to happen. He then always used to narrate the anecdote of his grandmother stating that when luck is on your way, it is notified in the form of grey hairs on head. But he was not sure whether she had referred about any bald head like the one he is sporting.
The third whistle blew loudly and this time very fiercely. Leaving the sweeping mat in the floor itself Susheela ran towards the kitchen. Wiping her dirty hands in the Saree, she got the stove off. “Manu, I want an exhaust fan over here”, she said in a loud voice, “it’s very hot over here in kitchen. You won’t understand the difficulty.” There was no reply from the living hall. “Only we woman knows what it is like to be in a kitchen in a boiling temperature. You guys only need to move your ass from the comfortable sofa to the cushioned seat near the dining table. There will be everything on the table ready to be served.” She said to herself in a husky voice.
“Don’t worry better half. Did you read the horoscope for this week? It reads a great week coming for me. TAURUS: You will have a wonderful week. You will be rewarded both professionally and personally. Your long pending promotion will be awaiting you. New purchases for household are on cards. Monetary problems will be resolved and your love life will be exciting.” He passed a loud laughter after reading out his horoscope. It was for the week September 13 to September 20. “Lady, Its a rewarding week for me this time.”
Susheela came back to the living room. Not much impressed with his excitement she continued to sweep the tiled floor. “Now what do you mean by excited love life. Two grown up daughters, couple years before retirement, sloping down health; I think there are many more things to get excited.” The pace of sweeping increased gradually wiping of the whole dirt the precious day had left when gone.
Manoj got up from the sofa. He kept the newspaper folded on the glass teapoy and came near to Susheela. “Age is not a barrier for these things, wife”, he hushed in her ears. She blush a little. She always does when he calls her ‘wife’. “Oh shut up, kids are there in the other room. You don’t know when to get romantic and where.” She took the bucket and headed towards the bathroom. Aasha came out from her bedroom and gave a hug to her father. “Where is Anusha” he enquired. “She is in the bathroom having her hour long bathe.” Planting a kiss on his cheek she switched on the television.
“Susheela, I am leaving; surprises waiting for you in the evening.” He took his bag and left the flat. “This man will never change” Susheela thought. A small smile bloomed on her face A coy smile.
6.30 PM
Hours later she was surfing the television. Jumping from channel to channel ‘Aaj Tak’ caught her attention. Breaking News. She stopped by. For Aaj Tak and India TV there will be something breaking news all the time, she thought. Reading the news she got enraged. ‘What will be this nation’s state if such devils try to break the peace now and then’ she thought. The count was increasing showing the monstrous face of the blasts that rocked in five spots in the city.
She took the mobile to give Manoj a call. That is when she realized why didn’t he call after the blasts? Maybe he might not be aware of it, she thought. She dialled the number. The whole network was jammed. She went near to the landline and dialled her husband. Ring went but, no one responded. He will be in bus and the mobile in vibrating mode, she thought. “This happens most of the times. I don’t understand why he need to keep in vibrating mode”, she said to herself. She redialled the number. Did he go to buy the exhaust fan? Did he plan some surprises buying goodies this week? Her thoughts started going wild. Her face started to reflect the panic which was growing in her mind. She dialled the number again and again.
He was very lean. Dishevelled hair, stinking shirt without two buttons and another one open, he was holding two big bags on his shoulders and a big bunch of books was kept one above another supported by his hands, stomach and chest. The train was passing a dark tunnel which was supposed to be the longest one in this nation. The coach was illuminated badly still his gaudy bracelet bearing lord Ganesha’s image was flickering. The short trouser he was wearing had the burns of hard work here and there. Muddy pants also bore Grease and even blood stains. “Sir, I can offer you world classics, recent best sellers, quick short story books, comics in a cheaper rate. And I bet you will never find these things so cheap anywhere else but from me.” He rolled his eyes on everyone sitting nonchalant in a trice. Not bothered, he kept his bags in the aisle and started showing the books he was carrying.” “150 Rupees per book”, the rates were fixed, no matter what the content was or who the author is or how famous the book is. “Not a penny more than 75 if not the ultimate book”, I quipped while surfing the pirated volumes. He averted his gaze and scrutinized me. His eyes fell over me, my appearance, my preppy attire and even my baggage’s. Holding his tongue for a second he blurted, “100 per book; if you will grab two or more.” Somebody asked him is this his main source for living. “No Sir, I very well do sell DVD’s, T shirts, candles, pens, drawing books, foreign chocolates, bangles, anklets, brooch, rakhi’s, magazines of all types and cigarettes”, the last two he said in a husky voice. One passenger commented, “Boy, you got a whole super market.” Laughter’s erupted all over the cabin, but he was busy showing me various books, but didn’t forget to wear a small smirk. “Till what time you work?” somebody else asked. I raised my face to find the source. A codger, sitting on the window seat, was curious to know. What these people get by asking such questions? Are they mocking the boy for his state or they expect to get some intelligent answer from this boy? I wondered. I suddenly espied him passing a wide smile. “I go to school in the morning and in the evening I sell my brands for around five hours.” That answer impressed everyone, not to mention me too. “I got a family with my mother and three sisters and a brother younger to me.” That was not asked for, but still the dialogue spattered. The lady sitting next to me, munching few biscuits and wafers, with her sympathy ornate face, looked at him. She forwarded the opened packet biscuits and offered him few. “My stomach is full, Madam. Just fifteen minutes before had food.” He declined the offer politely. “Its ok son, you can have two slices of biscuits. Those wonts make a difference and there will be that much space in your space.” “It’s not about space availability. It’s just that I am not hungry. And I think we should eat only when we are hungry. We should not be greedy for all these things.” Everyone sat their in awe. Paying me back 200 rupees he collected his material and strode ahead searching for his prospective customers. Everyone was still stuck in awe. The train was slowing down for the next station. The metal tyres braking sounds were piercing my ears. But still, the last two dialogues lingered through the sub lanes of my conscience. “And I think we should eat only when we are hungry.” Did he realise the depth of his dialogue? He only knows.
Kumar was getting his nerves tight. Checking the remote in between the pillows and cushions he was trying hard to control his anger. He checked the electronic instrument all over frantically among those ‘Times of India’, ‘Economic Times’ and ‘Readers Digests’.
“Why are you changing the place of the remote control now and then? You and your ‘saas bahu’ serials. It will be surely somewhere in kitchen.” He walked over to the kitchen. Displacing all the vessels over there he did a rat search for the remote.
“Where are you now? I don’t understand this. Whenever I ask for the remote you never respond properly.”He waited a second for some response from the bedroom. Impatient, he reached the bedroom in a jiffy. There was no one inside. A new sari was lying over there in the bed. He looked towards the bathroom door. Its closed and the light switch is on.
“Arundhati, where did you hide the remote”, the tone was harsher this time.
“What happened? Why are you shouting so much with your weak voice? Doctor had told to take rest minimum for three months.” She tried to remind him.“Oh please, don’t try to change the topic. Tell me where the remote control is? Then give all those silly advices.” He found her remark irritating. His clenched his fists.
“Ok then! You keep on searching. Or else wait till I come after my bath. There is nothing much to panic like this for a remote control. It will be there itself in the living hall. You might have missed finding it.”
He could hear the voice of water dripping from the tap. He stood there in front of the door, furious. In a hurry, he locked the latch of the door from outside. A devilish grin bloomed over his face. Without uttering a word he headed towards the living hall.
Fifteen minutes went over. Arundhati came out to the living room. Drying her hair she asked, “So, got the remote?” He was there sitting in front of the television, barehanded and not paying any heed to her, as if she was talking to someone else. “Now, won’t you at least reply to my question?” She growled.
“My doctor had advised me to keep a tab on my voice. Now why are you making me strain?” He retaliated. Somewhere inside he felt happy to attack her with the same coin.
“I don’t want to strain your voice. It was only you kept on screaming about the remote. Why I will hide it? You only need a reason to blame me of something. And to be frank there is no point in arguing with you.” Arundhati walked towards her bed room hastily.
“Oh yeah, and you want me to scream out of loudest voice for the remote control. You are well aware that I do watch the stock market updates this time and whoa! What a time to take bath? Its all planned, I know. You never liked me watching those sensex figures” Kumar didn’t even look at her this time. His moustache was shivering with anger. His eyebrows coned.
“There is no point in talking to you. At the end, you will just convince me that I am wrong and all is my fault.” Arundhati’s voice scrambled. Her eyes moistened. Her fingers were curling up the tail end of her cotton sari. Staring the television she sat on the couch, taking extreme care to sit on the other end where Kumar sat.
“You don’t love me” she whispered. He sat there staring the television. Stock market updates were flashing on the screen.
Half an hour went.
“Hey, did you have the tablets for your head ache this morning?” He asked her. He glanced over her and found a drop of tear ready to roll down from the walls of her eyes. He kept his remote on the sofa and positioned himself near to her. She turned her face onto the opposite direction.
“Ok dear, I am sorry. You know I love you a lot. I won’t get angry on you anymore. This is a promise.” He tried to raise her face.
“Oh, shut up!” She grinned at him. “This is a promise I started to hear right from the day after our honey moon got over. Thirty years back. Today I am not going to fall for this sentimental dialogue of yours.” She was enjoying Kumar's fingers trying to wipe out the tear drop which already started rolling through her cheeks.
“Oh yeah, the very same thing you say every time I make this promise.” He laughed loud. And she couldn’t control her either.
-->A hug, the first thing to follow their laughter.
Vidya, she is looking prettier, he thought. Her curly black hair was waving in the light breeze that passed by her. She was smiling with those lovely dimples on her pink coloured cheeks. Sporting a ‘Police’ sunglass covering up her eyes, she stood there in front of him. The silky skirt had zebra designs on them.
Its after so many years he is meeting her, to be precise, after eight years, on her wedding day in one of those plush 4-star hotel. She had married Gautam, her boyfriend from her college. He never felt bad for that incident, but somewhere deep down his heart; he had once nourished a soft corner for her.
The very same Vidya stood in front of him and he couldn’t believe his eyes. When deputed for a major project on global warming here in Tokyo, he thought this would be the last place he could find some long lost friend on the busy streets. Before quipping a ‘hi’ he noticed a kid tugging at her jeans. He stared at him in surprise. “This is my son Abhinav!” she said sensing his surprise.
They used to play husband and wife. That was around twenty years back. Vidya did all those kitchen chores in their act. She used to boil water for him to take bath, when he returned from office she made omelettes using their plastic pan, he helped her in cutting the onions, she washed their cloths, he ironed their dresses, she fed the pet animals, he sang songs to her, she cleaned the room and he the bathroom.
“What’s up with you these days?” Her eyes were bright; those were the most sought after eyes in those college days of theirs. The conversations went on and on, as if they were sure of not meeting in the future anymore. The coffee table was getting well populated with coffee cups. Talks flew over their college days, career days, her marriage, she raising her offspring, his professional stints in various cities of the world, her husband’s flourishing ‘curry powder’ business in this land of the unknown, his various bride-hunting saga’s, her driving classes, his new car, and her new apartment which is under construction and what not. It was when Gautam’s call came that they realized they had stepped into the last hours of the day’s dusk.
“I will have to leave now”, she said after disconnecting the call from her hubby dear. “Gautam does’t has the keys of our flat.” They exchanged their mobile numbers and address. The hotel where he stays is quite far from her place. After hugging each other and with his promise to visit them over the weekend they bid good bye. He looked at her while they were leaving. Abhinav was jumping and bouncing like a rubber ball and she was adeptly handling him. With a smirk he took his laptop bag and that was when he noticed the bunch of coffee cups and pizza plates on the table.
It was he who cleaned the table; twenty years back, when they were husband and wife. He couldn’t abort his laughter but just realized they were still on the game. He picked the coffee cups and looked for the trash bin.
He loves sitting over here. How much busy he is, he loves to spend time over here.
Almost 90 hours for minimum is spend annually over here. Though it’s a minor part, he always felt this time to be worth spending. He loved the solitude he used to enjoy. Whenever he used to be there, it gave him a calm and peaceful atmosphere. The only thing that gave him a company in his heaven is books and magazines.
Last year he had paid almost 20,000 Indian Currencies for a teak wood shelf. The corners were carved artistically. On the top most part, by the center, the shelf got an image of book carved into the wood. Both dad and mom were aghast when he installed this shelf over there. They branded him as a bigot. Many of his relatives had ranting over this extravagant furniture over and over again It had a drawer in the lower part where he had planned to stock his Readers Digest’s and Outlook’s. The shelf consisted of the whole gamut of books, right from romantic fictions, detective novels, thought invoking fictions, cold blooded thrillers to philosophical non fictions, and biographies.
Near to the shelf there was a trundle table. He used to keep the latest copies of RD’s and other magazines on that. There was a pen holder also which boasted a collection of three or four pens. He used to keep his mobile in vibratory mode on that when he was engaged in reading. People used to wonder what he used to do with his mobile over there.
Daily mornings he visited this place religiously. He had himself convinced that without some time spent over there, there is no world outside exciting him. He realized long ago that a minimum of 10-15 minutes he need to be there; Long ago before when he started working, before he attended colleges or before he went to high schools. He never disclosed this dalliance, except that his family members knew that.
Sitting over here he had completed reading many Charles Dicken’s, R K Narayan’s, Ruskin Bond’s in those pre teen ages; Sidney Sheldon’s, M&B’s, Jeffery Archer’s in those Teenage ages; few autobiographies of some visionaries and God-knows-how-many magazines and newspapers. These four walls which covered him from the outer world seemed to give him a silent company. He at times used to whisper them the lines and dialogues of those dramas he used to read. No other person was allowed to intrude his space when he was inside. Be whatever urgency the other person got.
One thing he never forgot to do while leaving the room was to flush the excrement's he had relieved during the course of reading sitting on top of that plush Olive green European Closet.
Things were not going in the line which he had thought off. He was not ready to accept the failure. He was apprehensive of admitting that the decision he took was a wrong one. He was carrying the burden of his distraught along with him. He had taught himself to be positive and keep hope that matters will settle for good, some or the other time. But somewhere down the heaps of thoughts, he was realising the mistake he had committed while taking the decision. In between, it emerged in front off his eyes in the form of a monster showing its dreaded teeth dripping blood wanting to engulf him completely. He was facing an intelligent cul-de-sac.
A Week Before…
He was on the verge of a nervous break down. Accepting the mistake will be almost like finishing himself totally. He was not sure whether to accept his fate or not. Facing world seemed to be the toughest task. He wanted prove a lot in life. He had planned a lot for that. Lots of hasty decisions were on its way. But now, the junction seems empty. No sign boards in front of him. He realised it’s his failure. Life seemed to take a U-turn abruptly, without even giving him a chance to renounce his decisions.
Yesterday…
He used to get pissed off with the horoscope messages his mobile service provider used to send him daily in the mornings. They never used to get late. Though hated like anything, off late, unlike the earlier days, he started to read them instead of deleting them on arrival. That was a free service his provider was offering. So never bother to unsubscribe it also. Like everyday he checked out the message which read, ‘Horoscope for Taurus: One mistake does not mean you have failed. Think about how much you can learn from this slip-up’. He kept his mobile aside. The whole day he was inside his room, closed.
Today, Present…
He is much more content today. The long lost smile is back on his face, unveiling every now and then. World, seems, a better place today.
Jai and Janki waited there outside. Besides them was a well dressed man, with a moustache which had grey hairs here and there, a navy cut hair style which clearly showed the baldness, in his early fifties. He was not as calm as they were. His eyes were wandering here and there. The phenol smell, a typical hospital thing, was in the air. The air conditioning was doing its best part, but still, his forehead was filled with sweat drops and two rivulets of sweat were running down alongside his face.
They three looked towards the door impatiently, whenever someone opened the electronically locked door. In five minutes after their arrival many people passed through those iron doors. An old man seated in wheel chair was guided by the male nurse. Another old man in a moving bed assisted by few staff holding some fluid containing bottles was struggling to look who is waiting for him outside. An old lady with her son, maybe, came through that door. They rushed towards the general ward section of the hospital. Then came a lady in her thirties, dressed completely in a check gown and this flow was continuing.
Six eyes were waiting for the door to open and someone to call their name. Seconds were passing like centuries. Heartbeats were pounding like a bullet train. Thoughts were streaming wild. The every moment the door opened, their eyes read anxiety. The extra cool air from the ICU gushed out through the door when it opened. It tried hard to lessen the sweat that perpetuated on their face.
Jai stood in the same place, his hands inserted in his worn out jeans. Jiya, her hair plaited well, was supporting her body on Jai’s shoulders. Her one hand was firmly affixed to his. The other one carried a mobile, which was a source for her to check the minutes crawling.
“Anyone for Janvi”, the voice shrieked through their ears. They didn’t even wait for the fat lady, a nurse, to complete the sentence. “Yeah”, all three chorused. She led them through the narrow walk way, made them wear the special attire, sandals. The air conditioned breeze smelt anti-biotic. The moment they entered the highly sophisticated ‘Intensive Care Unit’ their heartbeats accelerated. Two beds away there she was, Janvi.
The charm which always used to spritz from the exuberant face had hidden somewhere. Dressed up wounds covered her face. Her eyes were filled with tears dripping down her cheeks and were apologising for her mistake she made. She never expected to meet with an accident in those slippery roads when, together with her friends, she made plans for an outing without informing her family.
Jai and Janki stood near to Janvi holding her hands. The man with them stood there, near the bed with his hands covering his mouth. His wide opened mouth was unable to utter anything. His shivering fingers tried hard to close his mouth, failing terribly. Eyes moistened in a jiffy.
“Sorry Dad”, was what all everyone over there heard before him breaking into tears. The sight of his daughter curled up with all kind of plastic tubes supplying required Saline and other supplies to her body, her watery eyes and her penitent words were enough for him to forgive her small mistake. When their eyes got entangled, the dam of emotions exploded. He stood there, crying like a baby.
Janki noticed; the staff were trying hard to control their tears. Who said, a mother loves their kids more. Who said, men don’t cry. She went near her father; hugged him tight. She felt the whole world embracing them.
Getting bored is not some problem he is facing now. Off late he is not comfortable with this bane of his. After working with machines and laptops the whole day, after being among a group of only technical-stuff-talking old men in his company, he always felt he required a freaking out with his friends. Or maybe a nice outing with his family, lengthy talks on phone with his distant relatives can do to keep his boredom at bay.
But he was missing something. In this unknown city, he felt he had isolated from many. His friends are settled in various other cities, busy with their own daily chores.
He took the laptop from his office bag. While opening and switching on the laptop a stream of thoughts flitted through this mind. If this laptop was not there, if the music system he had installed in his apartment was not there, how would have been his life like? I am indebted to the technology invasion, he thought.
First thing he does after opening is to get connected to the internet world. He opened his mail. The networking site is kind of addiction to him. To know what his friends were up to, to get the latest reviews regarding the movies, to discuss all those political issues, to gather all business information’s and to be a part of small gossiping and backbiting. The inbox was flooded with mails. Most of them were official mails, a few from his yahoo groups. Before opening a mail from his friend he noticed a name. Priya Joseph. A surprise smile flowered his face.
He couldn’t wait to open the mail. Priya, his cousin, settled in a town far away from his place, had mailed. He was happy to see her name. With a little apprehension, thinking how come she mailed all in a sudden, he opened the mail.
‘Danz, Sorry for not responding to your repeated Gtalk buzz’. He recalled how many times he had pinged her from his messenger. After her delivery, she was busy. Her daughter is a sweet little angel. Her brother had forwarded the photos, and once or twice she had passed pleasantries back through the chat box. He was very eager to talk to her to share his happiness for her.
‘Life is so busy with my little one and time flies away. Anyways, I am enjoying every moment of it’. That is bound to happen, he thought. After waiting for five long years, prayers to make a deal with Gods and long procedures of medication finally she too was blessed with one. One small angel, to make the whole family brightened with joy. He couldn’t wait much to read the mail. His eyes dived into the pool of words in the mail.
‘Dad wanted a favour from you. Can you send downloaded songs of ‘Deshadanam’ movie? Let me know if u can. How is life there? How is your work going on? How is everyone else? Convey my regards to everyone. Rest in next. Take care...’ He felt dejected. Wild thoughts crossed his mind. She didn’t mention much about her newbie. He didn’t get the feel of love in her questions. So emotionless they were. It’s for the first time she had mailed him after the delivery. Before that also, she was out of reach. He had many a times consoled himself convincing that she will be busy with her first and longing pregnancy. But now, she could have shared much more. ‘I am expecting too much’, he thought. Everyone got their own business to mind. They are comfortable with their own spheres. But what he hates is this artificial love. He was doubtful why she had mailed all in a sudden. Though happy seeing her name in his inbox, down under his mind he doubted its purpose. At least the previous experiences are what made him think like that. And here, now today it turned out to be true. Why the hell people are so mean? Is it that we remember others when we want something? Why to fake all I-care-you-how-are-you attitudes?
He logged out from his mail. Not feeling to have dinner, he started some music on his laptop. But he couldn’t enjoy its melody. He was disturbed, it was better if she had not mailed him. At least he would have made up his mind that she was somehow busy with her kid.
It’s better to catch some sleep. He kept the laptop aside, hibernated. Danny slipped into the blanket. The only sound that was hearing was of the fan roaring aloud and the tic-tac of his alarm.
Why the hell on earth they are staring at my sister, he thought.
It was her summer vacation. It’s after two years that she had come to her hometown. She was pretty much excited. The calm city was very beautiful than her current city, where all kind of pollution drains you out. Here the number of vehicles will be the same, but still, there is no hurry-burry on roads. She wanted to roam around. She wanted to enjoy the breeze of her city, enjoy the hustle-bustle of the city crowd, wanted to go to the local bakery and have pastries, enjoy the innocence of the people out there. And all these reasons were enough for him to take her out for a ride.
Parking the bike they decided to stroll through the pathways of the city. She was very happy to be back and it showed in her glowing eyes. The city seemed to be different. All in a sudden, he felt strange. He could sense more eyes prying on them. He started wondering. He felt the atmosphere fill with some particular kind of suffocating air. He looked around.
He saw many eyes following them. From those who were standing at the bus-stop they passed by, the shop keeper along the road side, the middle aged guy standing near a magazine shop, the group of youngsters gathered around the corner; everyone seemed to watch only them, but only them.
A flash! Suddenly he realised the reason for the extra attention. He saw it in the eyes of the shop keeper; he saw it in the eyes of the bespectacled uncle-type person standing with a cigarette, he saw it in the eyes of the rag picker; he saw it in the eyes of the bald headed ‘gentle man’ standing with his wife and he saw it in the college going students. He could sense the fetish air surrounding them.
He realised his little sister is a grown up woman. She is very attractive, enough to get everyone’s attention. But, she was well covered. She hasn’t left any chance for the voyeur to set his eyes upon. That was a quality she had imbibed from childhood. She takes care not to give any provocative steps while she is out. But still, he was disturbed; the stares of those strangers were unavoidable. Those stares of hunger were aiming at her. He felt like screaming, “What the bloody fcuk do you guys want? Don’t you have any such specimen at your home?"
He wanted to speed away from there. But the vultures were all around. Damn this world! Life is not all about woman and their flesh. Enjoy the beauty in a descent way. Everyone enjoys getting that attention. But, definitely not such a vulgar way is expected. And this was the first time he was ashamed to be called a 'Man'
