As usual, he turned sideways to sleep, leaving her to gaze vacantly at the ceiling. She felt a sudden spurt of revulsion; that she should be thus lying down, battered ….while he, like a satiated pig, should…
She looked at him disdainfully and with utter contempt as he cracked his fingers and occasionally coughed to clear his throat. It was disgusting to her. She thought that he would soon lapse into uncouth yawning, making an ugly sound And as he did that, it filled her with deep annoyance and for once she even thought of expressing this annoyance on him in some form. But she stayed put. There was no point in doing it all, for he was insensitive and lacked aesthetic sense. . She arranged her disheveled clothe and left the bed; moved into the bath munching this unpleasant cud that he would sleep like a lifeless carcass while she would clean up her bodily mess ….
After a while, she emerged from the bathroom. The shower, however, did not abate her anger. Instead, her disgust increased by several notches as she looked at him, lying moribund on the bed. As usual, he was fast asleep already, A tinge of tear suddenly surfaced in her eyes. She felt he used her like an instrument: played on it when he needed to and cast it aside after he used up and lapsed into deep slumber. Despite her best efforts, she could not control tears from rolling down her cheek. She cupped her face into her hands and began to sob bitterly.
It was not like this those days …
Those were the early days and she kept delving deep into the river… now plunging deep, now surfacing for breath in the mysterious blissful moments. How manly was he those days! Those hairy hands…his broad and dependable chest…his firm grips… his broad and engrossing embrace always reminded her of the long and wide riverbed. Her intense desire would then be to lie on it, clinging to his broad chest, and fall asleep into his arms. As was his habit, he turned his back even those days as he slept, but she coiled up to his broad back falling fast asleep.
She had run into him for the first time at a wedding of one of her distant relations. He was in a dark grey suit and looked highly attractive. The way he was assisting the hosts, it had become plain to her that he was a key member of this family and rated highly there. He was personally supervising everything and was taking adequate care of the guests. He kept visiting each guest to see that they had their dinner plates full and well supplied...directing attendants to serve here, serve there…serve chicken there…bring some biriyani here… some salad there. He seemed to be in everything and she was forced to conclude that he was really smart, He had once come to her as well and pleaded with her to take some more pieces of chicken…and before she could protest or say anything, he had put a piece of chicken on her plate. It had then occurred to her that he had deliberately come close to her table. May be, he wanted to have a better view of her…he had then turned towards papa as well. She had briefly smiled. She could not help stealthily looking at him.
After the banquet, he took his position at the exit to bid farewell to each guest in person. He smiled at papa as they began to move. Papa appeared impressed. He introduced himself as inspection engineer in Gammon India and said that he lived in Grand Apartment located at Fraser Road…and informed him that he knew him. Papa had greeted him with a courteous smile then, and indicating towards her had said,” My daughter…a UGC scholar…”
He bowed with a smile. She too, courteously, smiled back at him. She had adequate opportunity to observe him properly, and she had succeeded in taking a measure of him. Eyes were tiny and rotund…ruddiness in complexion…eyebrows on either side was thick almost jostling on the forehead. She felt that there was a trace of listlessness on his face. Papa then gave him their address and completed the formality of inviting him. In response, he had said that he would definitely take the earliest opportunity and in the process of responding to him, he had managed to take a long look at her yet again.
She was in a happy frame of mind when returned home. After changing, she occupied her usual place on the balcony. On the other side of the road, there were innumerable buildings and beyond them the familiar river,.. a small part of which was visible from where she was seated in the balcony.
There were a few date trees on this side of the riverbank. They were so close that whenever heavy wind blew, the trees would swing close to one another making a formation of arch,
She looked from the balcony. Not many vehicles were seen on the road. She dragged her chair close to the railing, rested her head on the knees and fixed her gaze on the river. The zestfully flowing water of the river seemed to sparkle under the starry night and, like some mischievous eyes, tried to convey some kind of a message. For long she remained in this state, savoring every bit of it. The traffic on the road had come to a trickle and most of the activities had subsided with people retreating to the interiors of their house. Soon the entire area became desolate and life appeared to have come to a halt. She too withdrew and went to bed. She lied down, covered her face with pillow, and remained in that state for quite some time. She closed her eyes and felt silence was gradually descending and enlarging itself…with her eyes closed and silence engulfing her, she felt drawn towards something mysterious and unfathomable. She was trying to concentrate her mind to a point and in trying to do that, she had involuntarily folded her legs, pulled them closer to her chest, and crammed herself like a folded bag. It seemed to her that she was hearing the sound of a machine operating at some distance. Gradually that sound melted into deep silence…she squeezed herself further…and tried to concentrate her mind with greater vigor. She was slowly descending. Into the silence, she felt the silence was like a rock: impregnable and immobile. She could touch it, and feel it with her hand…and she opened her eyes as if with a start only to discover that she had been exposed to the presence of a massive ice bed with someone making a mild knock on it. She sat up and for once looked out of the window, …the river was flowing majestically as ever, under the sparkle of stars…the dates were continued to merrily dance in the same arch like manner and an image seemed to have emerged from there…a shadowed the visage…of those jostling eyebrows…the active and energetic something…
“Will you take some chicken...?”
“Just…one piece…?”
“No…err ...thanks…”
“One piece…please…”
“Oh...Oh…no please….what is you doing?”
“You are a UGC scholar…!”
“Nothing great about that…just whiling away my time…”
“Subject…?”
“Para psychology…”
“What…Para psychology?”
“I am researching on death…”
“On death…?”
“Yes…”
“What on death…?”
“Well, I am researching on what a dying man could possibly be experiencing at the time.’’
“And what is that experience?”
“I haven’t come to any conclusion yet…”
“Still something must have…”
“Well, this much is sure that some people pass through what is called out of body experiences…”
“Could not understand…” She heard the horn of a car at some distance. She spread herself on the bed and lied down supine. She opened her eyes for once, fixed her gaze on the ceiling of the roof and faintly smiled….
“Grand Apartment is located on the crossing of Frazer Road.”
She shut her eyes and pulled the pillow onto her chest; pressed it mildly against her breast and lied flat on the back. The sound of machine had abated and not heard any more. A pall of quietude had covered the entire horizon…and she was slowly melting into sleep.
Next day when she rose, she was in a happy frame of mind. She felt she was being happy for no apparent reason. She smiled at this realization and hummed her way into the bathroom.
While returning from the university that day, she went to the British Library and collected some books. She thought of buying some magazines and moved towards the main road crossing; but suddenly, she realized she was moving towards Frazer Road. She was surprised to find herself there. She could have bought the magazines right at the crossing itself. As she looked up, Grand Apartment was right in front of her. She could not help smiling at her instinctive though unintended desire of seeing the apartment… and just as she thought of it, she found him standing in front of her. She was stultified to see him thus.
“You here…!” He blurted out.
“Yes…” this was what she could speak in her bewilderment.
“We met at that wedding ceremony?” She nodded her head in agreement.
“You reside at Digha Colony, don’t you?”
“Yes…”
“Where are you coming from, now?”
“Had been to the university.” She thought he would now enquire about the subject of her research. But he did not. She then smiled and asked if he lived around this area.
“Here it goes…” He pointed towards the apartment she had already seen. It was so close.
“Which floor?” She enquired.
“3rd Floor….301 to be precise”
“I find it difficult to breathe in an apartment…”
“Why…?”
“It confines you…it’s always enjoyable if there is some sunshine, some greenery around…”
“What brought you to this side…?” He looked at his wristwatch as he asked this.
“Just to buy a few magazines…” A speeding car suddenly screeched past her giving her a severe jolt. She covered her ears with both hands. He was quiet.
“Oh, how noisy it is here…how do you live here?”
“There is no noise in the apartment…I enjoy it…”
“Don’t you feel suffocation…?”
“I have become used to it…”
“There doesn’t seem to be any restaurant here where we could enjoy a cup of coffee.”
“Restaurant is right here…” He looked at his watch as he indicated towards a restaurant nearby.
“Why are you looking at your watch so frequently…” She smiled.
“I am on my way to office…”
“Office?”
“Yes…”
“Please go if you are getting late…” Her voice had suddenly become a little harsh.
“You can take your magazines from that adjoining counter there…” he waved towards a shop as he began to move.
“Thanks…” She was clearly irritated .
“And the restaurant is across the road there…”
“Thank you very much indeed…” Her exasperation was complete as she watched him go leaving her there. But soon she began to curse herself. Where was the need for her to open up so much in the very first meeting? How did she expect a blockheaded man to…she should not have mentioned restaurant to him in the first place…perhaps, she thought for a rationale that those living in apartments were like this only…
Out of sheer disgust, she did not even buy the magazines she had intended to and made a hasty retreat from there. She kept scolding herself for having broached the idea of having coffee…in a restaurant. Why did she do that? Was she then nursing a desire of spending some time with him over a cup of coffee…? Why such a bizarre desire…? And how could one become so free and demanding in the very first meeting…? How childish of her to have…? She vowed to be careful in future meetings. She was not normal even after reaching home…future meetings? Was she looking forward to them? Her mood was far from normal. She threw herself on the bed without changing her dress, hid her face in her arms…and remained in this state for some quite a while…then rose from there and went over to the balcony where she remained seated for a while, near the railing,
The anglers were throwing their nets in the river. Wind was blowing and the flowing river waves were shining in the sunlight. She kept watching this spectacle for some time and then returned to the bed. She discovered she was sad and tired, and that she needed rest. A pall of gloom appeared to have engulfed her and it kept expanding on the slightest touches. She felt this gloom was broadening its tentacles much to her discomfort…she could not forget the way he indicated towards the bookstall first and then towards the restaurant…how unbecoming of him to have…
She sat up resolutely, cast her glance around and picked up the novel of Hermann Hess she had half-read and had left on the table. She took the novel in her hand and turned to the page where she had left a marker. But she could not read on. Her mind was restive and eyes wandered to the window. She went up and looked down and felt the presence of bougainvillea inviting her below. She looked further down towards the lawn and found papa tending and planting fresh flower saplings. She at once threw her book on the table and raced downwards to join papa. Quietly and carefully tiptoeing through the velvety lawn, she went up to him. In one of the pots she found a large number of buds of small chrysanthemum [guldaudi] ready to flower. She picked them up one by one. Close by her feet, there were some bamboo splinters lying. Papa asked her to tie up some of the creepers to bamboo splinters so that they could firm up and accrete. She sat down by his side and began to assist him in his endeavor and soon they had completed the task of tying all those creepers to the splinters. They were covered on top with polythene bags. She became so much engrossed in this work that she could not notice the onset of dusk. When garden chairs were laid on the lawn, she walked up to the water tap, washed her hands, sprinkled some water on her face and sat down near papa. She always found it highly rewarding to sit with her papa on such evenings on this velvety lawn. It was a joy she never wanted to miss. This was the only time when she could get to talk to him in full measure, especially on art and literature. She was keen to discuss J. Krishnamurthy with him, but the sudden arrival of a car near the gate put paid to her desire. It surprised her no ends to see him emerging from the car. He gently shut the door of the car and with the gentle nod of his head offered his salutation to papa. Papa responded benignly with a smile and beckoned him in.
He looked smart and dashing in his maroon shirt and dark grey pant. His shoes also went well with his dress. She could not help thinking that this man had a great dress sense and owned a great look. She at once recalled that on that very fateful day at the Frazer Road he had put on a white safari suit and a pair of dark shoes that went so well with him.
As beckoned to by papa, he occupied a chair in the centre and as he did, that he threw a glance at her. It was a fleeting glance, almost stealthily done. She thought he was desirous of interacting with her. She almost nonchalantly pushed her slippers away from her feet and touched softly the velvety grass under the feet. She allowed her eyes to drift away towards the money plant that had been set on a long bamboo splinter.
“How is everything….?” asked papa.
“With your blessings…everything is fine…”
“Will you like to have coffee?”
“I don’t take coffee.”
“Tea…?”
“No, thanks…”
“Something cold…?”
“Please don’t take the trouble…”
“Where’s the question of trouble…?”
“Don’t you take tea at all…?”
“Yes, I do…”
“When…?”
“Once in the evening after returning from office…”
She felt like asking whether he took milk in the morning…but did not and stayed put with a smile.
“But you must be taking something in the evening…like tea, coffee…drinks… snacks or even breakfast…”
“I take tea only once…that too after returning from office…I have taken tea before coming over here…”
“Take it once more…” papa said with a disarming smile.
“It’s not my habit…”
It was all silent for a while. He kept shaking one of his feet violently while she kept running her feet gingerly over the velvety grass. A squirrel came from nowhere and raced atop an Asoka tree.
“Your garden is beautiful…” He remarked after surveying it.
“It is all papas’ work…” She could not keep her from speaking this time.
“Chrysanthemums are bountiful and massive.”
“There is one deficiency though…”
“And what’s that?”
“Not one in blue color”
He did not say anything.
“Do you know why…?” She enjoyed pestering him.
“No, I don’t….please tell me…”
“Because,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes,” chrysanthemums in blue color are not found anywhere.” Papa smiled; as did he, somewhat sheepishly though.
“But you can find sunflowers in blue color as well…” she said, smiling once again. It appeared to him that she was opening up.
“Where…?” This time he also smiled whole-heartedly.
“In Japanese crockery…”
“What…?”
“Blue chrysanthemums are found engraved on Japanese crockery. It’s quite possible that it once existed…” Papa explained this in some detail. Silence returned once again for a while.
“I’ll now go…” he declared, suddenly looking at his wrist watch. This man has no topic for discussion. She was filled with a sense of revulsion. She turned to papa and asked whether he found that book.
“Which book…?”
“That Krishnamurthy book…” Papa shook his head in negative.
“Please allow me to take leave…” he rose from the chair.
“Stay for a while please…” papa requested.
“I have given time to someone…”
“You are very punctual about time…” she said with a smile.
“Aren’t you?”
“No, I am not…restrictions of any kind tend to desensitize you…it ties you down and you become conditioned by and by…”
“I’ll go now…” he finally said namaskar to papa as he took leave.
“Great pleasure meeting….please comes again.” He strode past the gate in no time. She thought he would look back at her, which he did indeed. To this, she responded with a smile that remained restricted to her lips hardly discernible to anyone else.
“What’s your reading about him…?” She turned to papa as she spoke.
“Good and simple.”
“To me he looks a very conditioned man…”
“Man is never fully free from his within…something will always keep him tied down to it…”
Nonchalantly, she looked towards the gate where the tiny leaves and flowers of bougainvillea were vacillating even as the wind was blowing gently. She felt once again descending into some kind of inexplicable despondency…she pushed her head on the back of the chair and shut her eyes. Through her closed eyes she was observing the spreading darkness around her…the rustling sound of wind that enthralled her in the past suddenly seemed to have lost that verve for her. She felt as though the wind was beating against the impenetrable and stony wall and she was planted in a tomb of rock where she was waiting for none to come…and there was no rain… no sunshine outside this tomb…
She opened her eyes and glumly looked around and noticing that evening had finally descended, she rose from the chair.
He was not seen again for a long time.
Once while passing through Frazer Road, she cursorily looked at the apartment. It had then occurred to her that she was unconsciously or subconsciously waiting for him…especially when she was alone in the lawn, she unfailingly thought about him…she always felt that she needed to speak out to him…if only he happened to be around.
One day she was all alone in the sprawling drawing room. Papa had gone somewhere and she was feeling bored and lonely. She did not even enjoy reading anything. With great difficulty, she had obtained some books of Loutse, but she could not go beyond a few pages. She felt like walking down to the river bank and sit quietly there for hours. However, she had to drop the idea as the area was not safe, and it was not advisable to go there alone.
Then she heard the horn of a car. She looked up towards the gate and was greatly surprised to see him getting down from car…his arrival at this hour seemed unexpected and unusual.
She moved out of the drawing room. He greeted her with a smile. She too smiled back in response.
“Is papa not in…?” He enquired.
“No…” She thought he would now ask as to where he had gone and when was he expected. He did not.
When they occupied their seat in the lawn, she thought he must have been thinking about her, just as she had been thinking about him lately. However, she wondered what could he have been thinking about her. She had so far not been able to fully comprehend him…the kind of man he was...what were his interests, though she seemed sure of the fact that he was not interested in books and that he was a man of principle and punctilious about certain things like punctuality and discipline.. Before leaving, he would invariably look at his wristwatch.
He was constantly watching towards a rubber plant in a pot kept in the lawn. She decided she was not going to be the one to break the silence and initiate dialogue…and if he asked something, she would reply in monosyllables…but when tea was brought, she broke her resolve.
“You won’t take tea, I presume.”
“No, not at this hour…”
“Then…?”
“Snacks will do…”
“But why don’t you take tea at this hour...?”
“Just a matter of habit…”
“Don’t you think these restrictions are inhibitive…and they do not let you live a normal life…?”
“Why…?”
“Now take a look at this scenario…the weather is so enticing…one can feel the cooling effects of wind…growing clouds…rustling sound emanating from leaves…and the two of us sitting and talking in the midst of greenery…don’t you think a cup of tea could double the impact of it all…?”
He smiled and stayed put.
“Therefore,” she continued, “whenever you come to us at this hour…please agree to have tea with us…”
“Alright,” he replied,” I’ll stop taking tea at any other hour…”
“Why?”
“As is my habit, I can take only one cup of tea in a day…”
“I cannot follow this kind of regimentation…”
“You are a great talker…”
“Yes, I am a talkative person alright…but not at all places and at all times…for instance, I cannot close myself inside a room and talk out an evening….instead, I like to give my evenings to the green lawn….for talking, it is the closed room and midnight…”
“Midnight for talking…?”
“Just imagine someone calling your name out in a strange city….or just imagine the thrill of meeting a friend after years….won’t you feel like talking to him over innumerable cups of tea and remaining closeted with him in a room…talking and talking for hours together…that will be the real joy…”
He just laughed at her enthusiasm.
“Did you never experience this kind of joy?”
“No…never….”
“What keeps you going then…?”
“I go for jogging in the morning…I cook my breakfast and lunch before going to office.”
“Haven’t you got a cook…?”
“I have a servant who does everything except cooking…”
“What are the things you cook?”
“Everything….chapati…rice…biriyani…chicken…”
“Don’t you think it is better to marry than to take so much risk?”
“I think…I’ll do that now….”he looked at her with a smile as he said this, giving her a blush.
“You stay alone with papa…?” She nodded her head in agreement.
“And how about other members…?”
“I am alone…mummy died when I was very young…and papa did not marry again.”
He was silent.
“Papa is also a good friend of mine…time passes so easily with him…he is a well read man…we talk a great deal…literature, art, music, philosophy…history…and host of other things…there is no dearth of subjects with him…”
“I’ll take leave now…”he said looking at his watch.
“Tarry a little longer…papa will come anytime now...”
“Where has he gone?”
“To Good Books to see new arrivals…”
He looked around for some time.
“You have a beautiful garden…”
“Come on…I’ll take you around…”
The velvety lawn was long and well spread out…and flanks were decorated with tiny plants that were regularly trimmed to keep them from overgrowing, duly punctuated with narcissus plants and some elegant creepers straightened up on bamboo splinters. Moving along the finely grown lines of snowballs, she stopped near the double-shaded plants of rose. With a winsome smile, she drew his attention to a full-grown majestic rose that stood out there.
“Look at this high-breed tree…and that’s the famous …rose of all roses…” He surveyed the garden very minutely. If it was the queued up dahlia on this side drawing his attention, the lined up small chrysanthemums on the other side was an invitation he found difficult to ignore.
“You should take part in exhibitions…” He could not help being impressed.
“To bring about novelty, I try out various colors and create other colors by merging and cross-breeding them….the sameness distracts me…novelty never wears thin…” and then she harangued him on the quality and variety of rose…why it was necessary to feed them on the sun and for how long…which flowers needed to be exposed to the sunlight and which were to be shaded…why it was necessary to…why both sunlight and nocturnal dew were indispensable for some and….”
“Where did you learn it all…?”
“From papa of course…gardening is his pastime…” She chirped all along as she took him round.
“I haven’t yet shown you the variety of rose…here! This is Christen dire…this Virgo piece…First prize…Paradise…Eiffel tower….Century two…Lady X… Double delight…and this is Mister Lincoln…”
“Great!”
Suddenly, the wind grew wild and cold. She looked at the sky; at the darkening clouds emerging in the western side of the sky….and lo… it began to drizzle. She could not contain her glee and jumped with joy.
“Oh, what a transformation in weather…” the glow was clearly visible on her face and she seemed keen to share this joy with….
“I’ll rather go now…” he said, breaking her reverie, so to say.
“Why…?”
“This drizzle is a warning for rain…”he said looking at the darkening clouds, frightfully.
“Don’t you enjoy getting drenched in rain…?” The drizzle had already converted into big raindrops. He hurried back to a shaded area while she kept chirping as she also scampered back to shade.
“You are very much scared of rain…”
“Could catch cold…”
“If you are so careful in your life…life itself becomes drudgery…” He did not react.
“I usually take refuge under that tree,” she said waving towards a tree in the farthest corner of the garden, “whenever I am caught in rain here…” There were a few drops of water on her face and some raindrops had wetted her around her nape and shoulders.
It was raining in torrents now. The sound of rain against the wildly blowing wind grew majestic and the massive tree of goldmohar (pulmonary) was swinging as if to a tune.
She stole a look at him. He was wiping his face with his handkerchief. From portico they moved in to the drawing room.
“Should you like to have coffee…?” She asked.
“No thanks,” he replied tersely.
“If you give company, I too could enjoy a cup of coffee…” she smiled as she said this.
“You may have it…”
‘I won’t ask him anything anymore…,’ she got irritated and looked out of the window. This man is incapable of enjoying nature, she thought disdainfully and suddenly she realized the very presence of this man was inhibiting her. He was eating into her sense of freedom, he was driving her into some kind of a cell, and that she was forced to watch the spectacle of rain falling from behind the bars of the cell. Soon the rain stopped and he rose to depart.
“I’ll go now…” He declared his intent to go.
“Please do…” She could not contain her annoyance and said so rather dismissively. He looked at her a little surprisingly and waving her good bye swiftly moved towards the gate.
After his departure, she felt anger was being pumped into her…a blockheaded man…keeps on looking at watch…everything is decided before hand…how long to remain here…how long to do this…how long to do that…has no topic to talk….cannot enjoy nature. She suddenly felt annoyed with her own self…why was she attaching so much importance to him…? Why after all…? Was it necessary to have a male as friend? Why was she seeking his proximity? Why seek to associate with a man who keeps riveting within a fixed circle…always dreading to move out of the demarcated area…? Why seek company of a man who has no love for books…who cannot enjoy rain…?
She rose by giving a jerk to her body, raced to her room and lied down on the bed…staring at the ceiling of the roof…hid her face into her arms and felt as though she was immensely tired, as if she had travelled a long distance on foot. She was sad…she was forlorn…walking for ages in a land where nothing was familiar… like a never ending journey that led to nowhere.
It seemed she was vacillating out of sheer dread when she felt the presence of something comforting on her head. On opening her eyes, she found it was the doting hand of papa. She sat up at once.
“Feeling lonely…?” Papa’s query and the comforting hands on her head forced a few drops of tears in her eyes. She quietly wiped them with her fingers lest papa should see them.
The rain had begun to fall again. Papa sat down there and began to talk about the climatic changes. While still on the topic of climate, he informed that there has been some change in the solar system…in fact, he said, the movement of the earth has been slowed down by a second and this has impacted the climate as well.
In the meantime, she went downstairs and brought some fruits from fridge, and offered them to papa. Putting a few slices of orange into his mouth, he expressed his views on the works of Gurzief, his life and his philosophy of life…then tenderly shoved her locks behind her ears and mildly stroked her cheeks, and said,—
“Read books…books are the best friends…” After papa was gone she had taken her position at the balcony. The rain was falling in torrents and there did not seem any immediate possibility of its abatement. Water falling from the roof top on to the railing was also sprinkling on to the balcony and wetting her apron, . She wiped the water on railing with her hand and planted her chin on it so that she was able to feel the puddle. Her eyes settled on the electric pole and the high-tension wire connected to these poles. Individual droplets of water running down from one end of the wire to the other, making a garland of pearls in the process before converting into a big droplet at the end of the journey, and falling off on the surface below. . She remembered how in her schooling days she would chase a friend of hers and upon catching up with her, both of them would drop down on the ground…
Wind was becoming wilder now and the rainwater was splashing inwards. She was getting thoroughly drenched, but instead of trying to escape from the onslaught of rain, she continued to remain seated there. She had shut her eyes and was, it seemed, trying to read the meaning of the sound created by the rain. Drip-drop sound of water falling from the trees was merged with and evaporated into the more pronounced noise of fiery wind blowing across.
What if there were no trees around…what kind of a sound will it make in the absence of trees, she wondered loudly . She thought raindrops falling directly on the roofs would not create the same music that is created by the raindrops falling on leaves, filtering through, before dropping on the roof tops. They created music, not just sound of noise…slowly and steadily the intensity was rising…the swishing sound of the heavily blowing wind was acquiring mysterious proportions for her and she saw a visage of herself standing at the end of a long and narrow tunnel, some non-descript birds encircling over her head….and a hooded figure from afar beckoning her to come…
She opened her eyes, turned sideways and sadly looked in the direction of the massive tree of goldmohar. On the top branch of the tree, she saw a crane sitting with her beak buried under her wings,, and the money plant coiled around the eucalyptus shaking violently.
One day while she was returning from the library, she met him at the crossing. He raised his hand in salutation and she responded with a smile. She liked the way he wished her. He was on the other side of the road and was watching her intently from there. She thought he must have been keen to meet her one of these days…perhaps the way she was keen to…she took a long furtive look at him….he was dressed all white and the black half shoes he wore suited him well.
She moved forward to cross over to the other side of the road, but she was blinded and mortified by the sudden appearance of a speeding car…and if it were not for him, she would have been dashed down. From the other side of the road he suddenly made a swift leap and in no time gripped her firmly dragging her away from the speeding car. She dashed against his chest; and the car that had first screeched to a halt, sped off. It all happened in a moment, with the twinkling of an eye. It was all so very sudden that she did not seem to remember anything, and when she recovered from the shock of it all, she found herself firmly deposited into his arms, feeling the touch of his broad chest on her visage. The taste of salt flowing out of sweat was felt on her lips and a strange and inexplicable odor permeated through her nostrils…strange and mysterious like the smell emanating from a bonfire…she realized it clearly that the stench of that strange smell also contained an admixture of sweat and perspiration. The scene obviously attracted many passersby who stopped to watch the spectacle of that narrow and providential escape.
“Is that the way to drive a car…?”
“Very rash driving…”
“It was a great escape for you…”
On recovering from it all, she took the stock of situation, extricated herself from his grasp, organized herself and thanked him sheepishly. They then moved to the other side of the road.
“While crossing road, you need to be extra careful…look both ways before you take a step forward…” She was silent.
“I was then watching that car…”
She continued to be silent. In fact, she had not fully recovered from the shock of that incident yet. She was still piecing them together…It all began to re-enact before her eyes…how he made that leap and dragged her into the safety of his arms…his broad chest…the sweat and perspiration pervading his person…and that grip. She was still feeling a tinge of pain where he had gripped her so firmly to drag her away from what must have looked like sure death . She did not mind the pain; in fact, she relished it…and with a smile on her lips, she caressed the spot where his grip had inflicted the pain, and for once looked squarely at him …and as she looked at him, she realized it was not an ordinary look she had bestowed upon him. It had come from within. She felt that at that particular point of time she had descended into the depth where only the destined and initiated ones could descend with a specific purpose of seeking to unite for ever…It seemed to her that it was this kind of purposeless walk with him that she had always longed for. She could go on walking like this with him…purposelessly, fearlessly….untrammeled and unconcerned.
“How did you happen to come to this side?” He asked.
“Had gone to the library…”
“It was a miraculous escape for you…”
“Such things are instinctive…”
“Why…?”
“The way you leaped into air…”
He was silent.
“This is not a matter of training….this skill is not acquired or created…”
“I saw you in extreme danger…”
“Thanks for your help…”
“What’s your programme now?”
“I’ll go home.”
“Drop in to my apartment sometime…”
“Will come some day with papa...
“Sure…please do…”
“Okay…and thank you once again…”
“Bye…”
“Bye…”
When she reached home, papa was not there. She went to her room and lied down on the bed. The entire scene began to re-enact itself….she shut her eyes…she felt he was delving into her being…lighting up her inner self and she seemed to be relishing the heat he was imparting to her. She remained like this for some time, as in a state of intoxication, and then with a sudden twist to her body, she sat up on the bed and looked out of the window….towards the river. The river too seemed to be in a state of ecstasy with waves rising and falling…there was a big rush and noise on the side of L.T.C ghat. The chirping birds were descrying in the sky. The palm trees were swinging. Gradual onset of dusk was casting its spell on the river as the water was turning dark.
She got up, went to the window, softly held its bars, and shut her eyes….how manly of him….how manly of him to have….
For some days she remained lost in her world of books…and one day when papa told her that he had been to his apartment, she was surprised no ends. Then they had a detailed talk about him. Papa informed her that he was of noble descent and that he was counted as a scholar amongst engineers.
It surprised her a lot that papa should be talking to her thusly. And why this detailed discussion about him…then when she looked deep into his eyes, she became sad. She realized she had the same relation with her papa now that a boatman had with his passengers whom he had to ferry across…she could read in his eyes the urge to discharge his responsibility as father whose job was to find her a mooring. It made her sad to think of the possibility of such an eventuality.
Papa also informed her that he had invited them to lunch on Sunday and that he had promised to do the cooking himself.
“Was it necessary to…?”
“He is keen that we go there…”
“But why did you take the initiative…?”
“It was a chance meeting at the crossing…I had to go with him…” Papa smiled. She was silent. She looked in the direction of the river. There was no visible movement on the placid waters of the river. The wind seemed to have gone static. The crow sitting on the telephone pole flew out once and flew back in soon to the same spot. The top branch of a banyan tree was moving slowly.
Came Sunday and they went to the apartment. It was on the third floor. A robbery had taken place in the apartment in the recent past. The occupants were, therefore, more alert and circumspect about the visitors. Names were duly entered in the register maintained for the purpose; and each visitor was subjected to this necessity. The guard accompanied them to the designated flat after making necessary entries in the register.
He received them with a benign smile. It was a well maintained flat, properly decorated and well organized suggesting the occupant must be a methodical man. She looked around with curiosity. She was surprised to find a bachelor’s flat so well maintained…all things at their rightful and designated places. This was unusual. Papa too was highly appreciative of this fact. This was not generally seen…then there were talks of here and there…when did he buy this flat and for how much…what was the area…how much did he have to pay towards maintenance …and such mundane things…
He then took them around for a better view of the flat. Drawing room was L-shaped and its one end was utilized as dining space. There were two bedrooms joined by a passage. Door of the master’s bedroom opened to a balcony. The bedroom was clean. On the bed was spread out an azure blue printed bedcover that looked immensely beautiful. On one side of the bed there was a small book shelf where books were kept, neatly arranged. There was another small shelf where shoes of different quality and hue were kept in pairs, all of them neatly arranged, and each of them well polished. There was a massive poster of Bruce Lee on the wall. She could not help laughing to see the poster.
“So you are interested in martial arts…?”
“Bruce Lee was a wonderful person…”
“What were his qualities that impressed you so much…?”
“He could fight with so many at a time.”
“Is this a quality…? You call fighting a quality…?” She asked mischievously.
Papa burst into a laughter and said, ”man’s tragedy is—he has bred fewer flowers and invented more weapons…”
She took out a book from the shelf: How to Win People. It again elicited mischievous laughter from her.
“Can anyone win over a person by reading books…?”
“At least one can learn good things…” he smiled, wryly.
“But man is basically bad…”
“He can attempt to become good…”
“I don’t agree…being good and becoming good are two different things…man is born good…he cannot become good…attempting to become good makes him a hypocrite…”
“You are a good talker…”
“If code of ethics could really bring about a qualitative improvement in man, our society would not have been this bad…there would not have been these many riots…” she said, shoving back the book in the shelf.
“You disturbed the sequence…this was not the designated place of this book…” he said as he took out the book from where she had shoved it and placed it by the side of another book that had red cover on it.
“You attach great importance to sequence…”
“Why…don’t you…?”
“Dogmas…rule…principles…tend to tie you down to a tether post…”
“Your words are incomprehensible to me…” he said and laughed. Papa also laughed to his heart’s content. From there they moved to the balcony that was sufficiently wide and covered with grill on all the three sides.
“The very concept of balcony is destroyed by these grills…” she tried to peep below through grill with little success.
“Why…?”
“Looks like a prison….balcony means you should be able sit to with your chin planted on the railing and take the view of the world below….”
From balcony, they shifted to the drawing-room and sat down; whereupon he asked—
“Should I bring coffee?”
“But you don’t take coffee?”
“I have it for my guests…”
He rose to go to kitchen. She asked—
“Should I help?”
“No, thank you…”
“You are very self dependent…aren’t you…?”
“No choice…”
After a while, coffee was presented. Papa took a sip, and said,” it is well prepared…”
“Thank you…”
“Do you yourself cook your food….?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you learn it…?”
“In Iraq…”
“In Iraq…?” It was her turn to be surprised.
“My company had sent me to Iraq on deputation for a year…I didn’t like the food served in the mess…thought of doing some self-cooking…a colleague of mine was also there, but with his family…I learnt cooking from them…”
“Good habit…it saves you time and you also get quality food…”
“It’s now become a habit with me…and I easily pass my time…I have a servant who does cleaning etc.”
“What are you offering us for lunch…?”
“I have prepared chicken biriyani…”
“Oh, that’s my favorite dish…”
“Food is ready…let me prepare salad, then it can be served…”
“Should I help….?”
“Oh, no…why should you take the trouble…?”
“No question of trouble…” She rose from the sofa to join him.
Papa picked up a newspaper from the tripod and began to go through it.
Kitchen too, like the flat, was well organized. Kitchen base had while tiles that looked so sleek and elegant. Utensils were arranged in one of the cabinets and all containers and tins were kept in sequence. Gas cylinder was so well covered inside a cabinet that even its pipe was not visible. She looked impressed as she saw it all, and said with a smile—
“The standard of a house is known by two things: kitchen and bathroom…drawing-rooms are taken care of by everyone…but bathroom exposes them…”
“Meaning thereby that some people wear impeccable suit, but their under garments are dirty…”
“Exactly…”
“Meaning thereby, once again, that if you have to get the measure of a man, look at his inner garments…” and both of them burst into a peal of laughter.
When she picked up a knife for peeling onion, he pointed out that the knife she had picked up was not meant for peeling/cutting onion….
“…then…?”
“You take this one…” he bent forward, took out a knife from a cabinet and handed over to her. In his act of bending forward, he made a contact with her shoulder.
“I have a different knife for fruits…I don’t like onion smell on fruits…”
“One should learn manners from you…”
“Thank you.”
She began to unpeel onion. She found him standing very close to her suddenly. She was feeling the warmth of his breath on her person. Once when he bent down to pick up a plate, his hand touched her bosom. She could clearly feel the touch of his fingers. She went crimson for a while. It seemed he was doing it all deliberately and once when he bent further down to do something, it appeared to her that he was trying to kiss her…
He continued to stand close to her. She was constantly feeling the warmth of his breath on her nape…she felt perspiration on her forehead….she became a little nervous and before he could make any further movement, she said—
“Please give me salt…”
He moved to the other side for picking up salt container. In the meantime, she moved a little farther from where she stood earlier. He placed the salt near her plate.
After salad was ready, she went to the wash basin. She washed her hands, wiped them with a towel kept for the purpose and went back to the sofa.
Food was served on the table soon thereafter. He called them out from there itself.
Papa got up and she followed.
The menu had a long list. Chicken biriyani…korma…shami kabab….alu papad, raita, salad and pudding to cap it.
“Goodness gracious….how could you do it all by yourself…?”
Papa and she sat in the same line side by side and he was seated on the other side of the table, right opposite her.
Papa took a morsel in and immediately recorded his appreciation—
“Huummm…it’s so tasty…so well cooked…fantastic…”
“Oh, you are unnecessarily heaping praises…”
“You deserve to be praised….”
“Do you knit sweaters as well…?” She had a mischief up her sleeves.
“No, why do you ask that…?”
Papa smiled, comprehending the purport of his daughter’s question.
“How does sweater relate to food…?” Papa queried on his behalf.
“I asked this because he has an expertise in all those things that are considered to be in the domain of a housewife…besides cooking food so efficiently, he has maintained the flat in such a manner that could put a housewife to shame…everything at its designated place…”
“That’s because I have no choice….as I had said, I can’t eat outside food…and finding a quality cook is not easy…that leaves me with no choice but to cook my own food…as for my expertise…don’t they say practice makes a man perfect…what’s harm in attaining culinary perfection…?”
She began to laugh at this lengthy and effective explanation.
“Take some more salad,” he said extending towards Papa the plate of salad.
“It’s enough…” papa tried to block the foray of salad into his plate, but he managed to put some into it.
During the entire session of lunch, talks veered around more mundane things like where he was from and made informal queries about his siblings, where they were, what they did and things like that. She remained quiet during this session. He had informed papa that he was from Bhikhanpur. Papa had startled at the very mention of Bhikhanpur and then had talked about an old time friend whom he claimed to have known.
They did not stay there long after the lunch was taken. He saw them off at the gate below. Before boarding the car, papa thanked him for the sumptuous lunch and he waved his hand with a broad smile looking at both of them turn by turn. She also smiled back as they finally went out of the ken of his eyes.
Papa looked content and satisfied. She noticed a kind of peace on his face as they drove on. This saddened her a little…..felt tired as she looked out of the window of the car and watched listlessly at the buildings that were vanishing out of her sight. She pushed her head back on the seat and shut her eyes.
Even after reaching home, she had not been able to free herself from that inexplicable sadness that had engulfed her. Listlessly, she changed her attire and rolled out on the bed keeping her eyes closed. The image of her father was floating before her eyes…she found him weak and sad The mist began to gradually spread out taking everything within its ambit…She felt she was in the midst of this mist…and then someone called her name out…She had turned back to see who it was…The features were sharp…eyebrows were well drawn and seemed to be jostling to reach out…she had felt the presence of his fingers on her hip and had turned back to see…he had tried to bend down to…she had politely pushed him back…She had really wondered as to where she was going…what was she up to…The familiar river bank appeared to have been lost in the thick cloud of that mystifying odor….she felt he was somewhere near her…she was feeling the warmth of his breath on her nape…as if he was trying to lip-brush her neck and the adjoining areas and she was trying to keep him at bay…and then he had taken her hand into his hand and had pulled her tenderly towards himself and then her apron had got stuck on to an old and infirm branch of tree….
She sat up and looked perplexed. It seemed to her that papa was in the lawn, waiting for her. She went to the railing and peeped below if papa was actually there. He was there, pacing the lawn leisurely. He looked at her and with a smile indicated that he was coming up to her. She got the clue…papa was coming to talk to her. She took two chairs to the balcony and waited for his arrival.
She was deeply disturbed at the very thought of leaving papa. She shuddered at the prospects that her papa would face when she was gone…he would be all by himself…no one to look up to…he was so much dependent on her…and she on him….what would be the quality of her own life without him around…? How sorely will she miss him…how dearly he loved her…she hardly ever felt the absence of her mother…he always kept her close to his heart, exuding warmth and keeping that protective umbrella always over her head….how secure she was in his company…how well he looked after her…always attentive to her personal needs, no matter how insignificant or small the need be…what a doting and caring father…? She was never lonely in his company…he was never short on ideas…there was no dearth of topics with him…it was such a rewarding experience talking to him….how was she going to reconcile to all these losses…? She was filled with an intense pain…the very realization was a pain difficult to contain….she was going to have a companion, what about papa…he would be lonely once she was gone…
Papa was standing before her…she tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder and made her sit down and he himself occupied the other chair in front of her.
They remained silent for a while….this silence was painful….she took a quiet look at her father; and she was distressed to find him frail and forlorn….it appeared to her that papa was passing through a painful phase and she was sure after hearing him, she too would pass through the same ordeal of distress. He opened his mouth to say something, but his voice got choked and he failed to utter a word clearly. It was after much effort that he managed to clear his throat and said—
“My child…!”
It pierced through her heart and she leapt into his arms, sobbing bitterly as he kept tenderly running his hand over her head…she was weeping uncontrollably…
“No… don’t… my child…don’t you cry…” the more he pacified her the more she cried, and cried inconsolably.
He kept fondling her, long enough and when after some time she raised her face to look at papa, he cupped her face into his hands, kissed her on forehead and said.” I like this lad…and if you approve of him…”
She once again flung into his arms and began to cry vehemently.
“No, my child….don’t do that…after all you will remain in this city itself…” It was with great effort that she finally controlled herself. Papa had left leaving her there to cogitate over the whole thing. She did nothing of the kind. She just looked out towards the river. A new sign board had come up near the main entry point of the river bank.
‘Ganga Action Plan—Site for Electric Crematorium’
A new burning ghat, an electric crematorium for burning the dead was coming up, she thought…and looked at the river with sad eyes for long…fishermen were casting their nets into the river and a boat having crammed all passengers was readying to leave the shore.
As usual, he turned sideways to sleep, leaving her to gaze vacantly at the ceiling. She felt a sudden spurt of revulsion; that she should be thus lying down, battered ….while he, like a satiated pig, should… 
A new burning ghat, an electric crematorium for burning the dead was coming up, she thought…and looked at the river with sad eyes for long…fishermen were casting their nets into the river and a boat having crammed all passengers was readying to leave the shore.
