Oh Stop It…

It is a quiet and dark evening with no stars visible in the clouded sky, the cream colored swift dzire with an ornery dent spoiling its curvy outlines shoves past the farms on a smooth highway with paucity of traffic…treads of the tires continuously gripping and then pushing the road back at 50 miles an hour, the torque being transferred to them is maximum at the moment with the engine running at 4500rpm on the 4^th gear, loud revving of engine compelled Anand to shift up the gear by refusing to increase the rpm any further…with some swift movements of his limbs Anand appeased the engine, the car accelerated for 3 more seconds to achieve 70 miles an hour which pushed Sourabh further into the seat, he has been sitting in the back seat with his eyes closed all along the way back from the workshop….aware only of the sound and vibration of the engine…feeling the power produced continuously in the 4 cylinders as demanded by Anand…the talks of Anand and other two delegates have only been a useless cant to him which he has been avoiding and concentrating only on the revving paean of the engine sung in praise of the mind behind this amazing invention… a sudden sound of radio which tuned in automatically to the local station as they neared the city made it impossible for him to concentrate on that hardly discernible sound so he banished the thought that has been holding him back from losing his consciousness, the thought that has been sitting silently at a corner of his mind staring at him, waiting to harass him with a simple but dreadful question… ‘why me?’… he diverted his mind to a relatively positive thought and fell asleep.

Sitting under a tree he whispered in her ears… “I love you”.

“I too love you”, she replied and adjusted herself further into his arms…her majenta colored suit contrasted her body color in praise, while she lay in his arms he fiddles with her fingers, feeling her wrist, staring at the clearly visible nerves on her hands…

“what?, is there something wrong in my hands?”, she asked

“It’s nothing…I am just trying to grasp each and every details of your hands…I’ve always wished to do that..”

“hmm… did you notice the extra lines on my hands….they’ve appeared out of working in kitchen & other household activities”.

“That’s what makes them even more beautiful”

“what?...the lines?”

“No, the reason behind the lines…now get up & sit there facing towards me”, he pointed to a patch of green grass just in front of himself.

“Why? No….I’m so comfortable here in your arms”

“But I can’t see your beautiful face this way…” he said and she followed the orders as an obedient child pouting her discomfort away. A splash of fresh air swiped his chest as she moved away creating a cold sensation by carrying away the sweat…his heart fluttered with cold and contracted as he missed the warm touch of her body already, but her beautiful face with exactly three strips of hairs clutched to her right cheek, out of which one ended exactly at the mole on her neck made him forget everything else in the world. An uninvited smile occupied his face, a smile of realization that this world, the trees, the stupid traffic pomping far away, the ugly dog, the water-less taps in the park, the disturbing watchman with a stick that looked a bit too sophisticated for his dress, the birds, the pond with an inadequate amount of water, all looked so beautiful to him. Carrying that smile carefully on his face he put his head on her lap, covered his face with her scarf, held her hand tightly in his left hand and her tiny black clutcher in the right to fall asleep in the most comfortable place on this earth.

The smile followed him to this world which to him has been a purposeless place to be at the most if not a bitter reality, for the past few months. The flashes of passing street lights continuously swiped his wrist placed firmly on the side sill of door and his gaunt face in a rhythmic fashion sporadically.

“Sourabh Sir? Where would you like to have the dinner today?” asked one of the two delegates. “Sir?” he continued sensing a lack of reply.

As he started attaining his conscious, a feeling of revulsion accompanied each and every realization of the reality, the tree vanished into the back seat, the sunny blue sky faded into the clouded starless evening, the touch of her hands in his left palm have actually been those of his own fingers, her lap changed into the lifeless head support of the back seat, but her tiny black clutcher was still in his hands which he has been carrying with him everywhere since that incident happened. The feeling of hatred for being alive alone without her, of hatred for his pointless existence, of the ruthless lack of her in his life and most strongly, the hatred of him being perceptible to all these feelings that confuted his own long stood philosophy that a man depends on no-one else but himself for his own happiness, and the frustration of not being able to follow this philosophy came to him simultaneously in a sudden jolt and thus created a much stronger feeling which took a physical form and exploded as a deep pang in his chest. Repulsed at the acknowledgement that he is awake and deprived of his mental capacity to answer at the moment he preferred looking into the infinite, towards the road that kept on expanding along with the white lines which the swift-dzire has been gulping voraciously all along the way.

“Where are you lost? Sir?” the voice arraigned a part of his mind to answer. That part of his mind harried him into answering but he preferred to stay quiet, unsure of his capacity to voice out a meaningful sentence, as if the only sound he was capable of producing at the moment was of a wordless cry “Nowhere, let’s go to hotel metro, we’ll sit on the terrace today” he collected the strength and replied in a single flow of words to avoid any further interaction for a while.

“Very well Sir”, the delegate continued. “Anand take the shorter route and please increase the volume of radio”.

Tu agar udaas hoga…. To udaas hongi main bhi…..

Nazar aau ya na aau…tere paas hongi main bhi….

Tu jahan jahan chalega…mera saaya saath hoga…mera saaya….mera saaya……

It was not the music; it was the lyrics that writhe his heart apart at the moment. He was engrossed by the song as if it was sung only to him, as if it was she who was singing to him through the device which made him miss her even more strongly. The pain of her absence that has been avoided, ignored, and discarded a million times by his logical self crept again into his heart and forced a tear out of his eyes…

Kabhi mujhko yaad karke… jo bahenge tere aansu….

To wahi pe rok lenge…. Unhe aake mere aansu….

Tu jidhar ka rukh karega….

He hoped she was there on the other side of the device; he must rush there and catch her as soon as he can, but he knew she wasn’t. If only for once he could get another chance, but he knew there wasn’t. May be he should go and wait for her at munshi pulia(the meeting point), she will appear out of an auto, or from behind him as she always does….but he knew that won’t happen either. The pain grew excruciating with each of these realization. The tear, shy to show itself to the world, just able to confide in his eyes held itself safely. Don’t let it drop; he ordered himself. The sign, half clear half blurred by the tear, in the front of their car read Hotel Metro. Just don’t move, he said to himself and in a moment the tear vanished back into his eyes, no evidence left of its presence. He had had a lot of chances to practice this technique lately and have mastered it very well.

Drinks, read one of the menu in italicized letters which opened into an exquisite list of wines, whiskies and beer. Drink yourself to sleep or you won’t get a sleep tonight at all, said a voice in his head. No! You can’t turn yourself into a bibulous jerk, ordered another voice. “No I won’t”, he claimed to that faceless voice and to the delegates and shut the menu close.

Back in his room, lying in his bed he sheepishly closed his eyes, hiding from that dreadful thought. Start counting the lambs, he thought to himself, that would help you sleep. She would have loved to watch all these lambs, I should have purchased her one and then we would..Oh Stop it! He has promised himself not to think about her anymore, there was no point in that. He has somehow cajoled himself into believing that it was ok, that nothing has changed after that incident, that he can go on living normally like he does before he met her. Look at that empty space on the left side, remember how she would always fight for whatever side of the bed I wished for, I will give…Oh stop it! He chided himself for his inability at being ignorant of her. Just think of something else, he collected himself again, think of the engines, the gear box, of your dream to work on the fast cars, of winning the races, of sharing all your experiences with her, of her eyes full of awe and her smiling lips, of her silly questions and the way she burst into laugh at your jokes, I should tell her about the today’s …Oh stop it! He shouted with acrimony, Oh stop it, he shouted again with helplessness in his voice. Oh stop it, he cried to the faceless voice within. For god’s sake stop it and give me a break, he continued crying silently, unable to do anything about it and went to sleep…