The Start of a new beginning

On that freezing night of Feb’09 as the Bareilly express hooted to the green signal on platform 9, Varanasi Jn., a hand clasped the cold steel bar at the door of Bogie no. S2. There was a haste in the manner of that hand, not because the train was about to leave but because it had a purpose to achieve on this journey & this clasp was the deciding initial jolt that swiftly swiped away all the trepidations he had regarding the efficacy of that purpose.  It was 11:45pm when he looked up to the moon hoping that she might also be looking at it at this moment, and went inside the train. The knowledge that she was also looking at the moon made him feel closer to her. This feeling was what had given him the courage to conjure that desire and then swore it as a purpose. With that purpose and the memories of their first meeting in his mind, he closed his eyes gently; discarding any thought that didn’t had her reference in them and went to sleep.

Sahara Ganj Mall, Lucknow

Their eyes met each other, the smiles, one shying away through the dimple on his left cheek and the other in submission of the fact that she has waited long to see him, met with a warm welcome. The way in which they approached each other and stopped a step apart implied an unjust ending of a sentence that had started beautifully. As if continuing a previous conversation he said, “Let’s go now, we have to buy tickets to next show of Dilli 6”, which she obeyed at once as the time they both had to be with each other was limited. As she walked besides him she realized that no formal greetings were shared between them. This made her feel oddly happy to her surprise. After cajoling the watchman to mind his bag till the show end,  as the same was not allowed inside and no counter was present there where it could be kept, they entered the premises and then into the lift. He hurriedly found himself a place by the back wall as everyone rushed into the lift while she was left behind and could only find a place towards the door but she fought her way and stood beside him. It was then that he noticed that she wore skin colored boots under her brown salwar.

“What?” she asked as he kept looking down at her feet.

“The boots, do they match your attire?”

“Yes of-course, plus I don’t like wearing sandals” she replied and held his hands tightly as the lift started its ascent and the blood accelerated down from her brain. Frightened by this sudden rush of blood she closed her eyes. The efforts with which her eyelids pressed against each other connoted the clasping force of her hand.

‘No, it’s out of fear that she has held my hand’, he thought to himself and devoured a quick glance at her by so close a distance. Ever curious about this beautiful girl, he took a note of her long earrings, the bracelets, the rings on her fingers and that peculiar scent of her which he had remembered still since their last meeting on 26^th Dec’08. She immediately left his hand as the lift stopped when the skin on his hand started regaining its shape back and shook him out of his deep thoughts. “We still have time before the show starts, popcorns?” he asked her as they walked out of lift.

With Pepsi in one hand and popcorns in other she followed him inside the dark Audi. “Here, hand it over to me and come this way”, he beckoned her towards the last row. After spotting their seats he looked back at her. There she stood under the dim light with her earring shining in reply to the golden fulcrum of rays thrown upon her by the small roof bulb. A strand of hairs hid half her face, and the outlining light accentuated her beautiful face cut. For a moment he stood engrossed by that awe-inspiring scene until she asked him back in her sweet voice, “where do we sit?”

“Right here”

Sitting together as they both enjoyed popcorn while watching the movie; he paid a keen attention at her hands. They had long fingers and a ring in both index and main finger. The more he looked at them, the more his urge to hold her hand intensified. Their hands would touch each other at times as they both fetched popcorns. The compulsion of that urge was so strong that he ignored all his trepidations, took her hand tenderly into his own and exclaimed, “You have such long nails.” She tendered the other hand as well into his hand and pointed to even longer nails.

“Why don’t you cut them?”

“I like them long, don’t you?” she kept her hand still in his grasp even as there was no further need.

Just to keep his reason of holding her hand for a bit longer he continued, “Nah, I like them cut and clean. Besides I feel afraid of such long nails, they can be used against me”

“No they won’t be used that way, don’t worry”, she replied with a smile and swiped away the strand of hair that hid her face behind.

“Kaala Bandar …. Kaala Bandar….” Shouted the big screen and the tender clasp of his hand immediately undid itself as the attention diverted back to the movie. For a moment he felt bad at leaving her hands but then he thought that this also was not the answer to his urge. Although they were holding hands, it was still not out of her free will. The topic of discussion had justified that clasp. Unsatisfied still, he sat by her side trying to collect the valor to hold her hand and look into her eyes claiming that ‘yes he has held her hand and he is willing to hold it forever’. But he was afraid of the unknown ways in which that could end. Not clear of what the consequences of such action might be, he sat afraid of uncertainty and tried to concentrate back on movie instead.

 On the left side of that unwanted hand-rest sat she, not a bit interested in the movie, wondering why he had suddenly stopped talking to her. “Why have you come here Sourabh?”

“To watch movie, why?” he replied casually, suddenly interested in the storyline of movie, and looked at her to see an expression on her face that implied that she was not at all pleased by his levity. “I am here to be with you and talk to you and listen you talking to me”, he immediately changed his reply and turned left. After a while of their unending sweet-nothing sort of talks, they sat engrossed by a serious scene in the movie whereas the popcorn tub, half empty by this time, laid dwindling either side on the hand-rest. They both silently took hold of the tub and then, as if by some self governing force, their fingers were entangled into each other’s and tub, bereft of their hold lay dwindling again. There was still no deliberate effort from his side to hold fast to her hands as if he had left everything solely on her choice. He volunteered nothing but sincerely answered each of her attempts at maintaining that clasp with equal effort. But then he realized that this was what he was here for and confidently held her hand, overcoming his fear of the unknown and looked into her eyes claiming his intentions clearly. The sole source of his audacity was the knowledge that his intentions were true and have never seemed as right as at this moment. She kept the dwindling tub aside and held back his hand in submission to his intentions. He felt her soft hands holding back his own with same force and the reason behind that hold was affection. He took his time exploring her hand carefully, noticing where the nerves showed up engrossed, and feeling her palms and wrist. He felt her pulse that ran accelerated at that moment. “So that’s how fast your pulse run?”

“These aren’t mine, it’s your heart running so fast. Don’t you remem we exchanged hearts?”

“Well then yours is a lazy one. It would intensify the beats but run at the same pace, here listen to it”, he said and took her hand to his chest and continued, “It’s always like this in your presence or when talking to you, do you think it longs to go back to its original place?”

“No, I think it feels delighted in presence of its love and longs to come as close as possible to it”, she whispered back to him.

“You look beautiful today”, he whispered back to her and she smiled, smitten. “Oh look, it is beating even harder this time” 

"tum bhi na", she replied, shying away her glance back to the movie.... and the sweet talks continued this way but the hands were clasped as firmly as ever, holding a promise of not letting go of it ever again.

Ofcourse the purpose of his journey was achieved at this moment but he has realized that it wasn’t the end. It was but the start of a new beginning…

It's simple

A Street-light came to life after a few flickering efforts and breached the slightly dim atmosphere, created by the retreating diffracted sun rays, in a way that made it seem darker at 6’o clock on that winter evening. A gaunt figure with its shadow crossing ahead of him as he crossed the lamp-post crept forward. It seemed that he could walk faster, at normal pace, but was deliberately trying to move as slowly as was possible without getting standstill. He looked down in an attempt to abstain from noticing any familiar object on the street that could possibly remind of her. Stopping in front of a house he looked up at the window of his room and was disappointed at seeing the lights still off. His roommates were yet not back from work. ‘I should come back later’, he thought to himself and continued walking. He went to a shop a mile away to buy milk which he could have got from the shop just in front of the house. He did that to avoid the whole ‘I am fine’ argument with his own mind, to avoid going alone in the room. He has been afraid of being alone lately, of being just with himself when his unruly mind would torture him with her sweet memories, by reminding him incessantly of how much he loved her and by providing him ample reasons to feel sorry for himself. As he opened the main gate of the house after returning back from the shop she followed him in. She walked behind him on the stairs and waited patiently for him to open the lock on the door of his room as she does every time, starring him right in the face with all the love in her eyes. He ignored her and went inside the room, switched on the light and went to wash-basin. As he looked up in the mirror after washing the face, she was standing by his side, smiling. The muscles on his face went tout as if the body had suffered a strong blow. It weren’t her images that tortured him, it was the fact that all these images stripped naked in front of him. The fact that she was not there, that she will never be here again with him. Each memory of her that his mind ceaselessly pushed back in front of him indirectly proved him her absence. It was her absence that made him feel bereft and miserable. Her absence in front of the lock, her absence in front of the mirror, in the half eaten packet of chocos and the absence of her fingers between his own. All these lacerating thoughts beleaguered him to a corner of his bed where he lied, hunched, hiding his face over his laps with his eyes closed tightly in a futile effort to ward off her images but that was of no use as the images were not physical, they were in his mind. He lied there, shivering with mental pain, waiting for any outside interference to rescue him. The phone rang….

Richzz calling…

The pain left immediately as he jumped forward to attend the call. It didn’t matter who was calling. It mattered that there was a call and he needed to answer it. It was the simple obligation of answering the call that saved him.

“Hello, jai shri Krishna”, the accent hinted a smile along with the greeting.

“Jai shri Krishna richzz… how are you”

“I am fine, what happened to you? You don’t sound good”

“Ahh… I caught cold. You know the weather is changing”

“Weather doesn’t change in February. I know what kind of cold you are having. We talked yesterday and I told you that you can call me whenever you are feeling alone.”

“Yeah I know. But I still don’t think it’s OK. I mean we never talked before and now I suddenly start calling you, talking to you at lengths. It may be that we go along nicely but one might think that I am trying to... ”, he said and finished the sentence with a sneeze.

“The one that matters doesn’t think that way. You can talk to me if it helps, anytime. What are friends for after all?”

“To tell when the weather doesn’t change I suppose”, both smiled.

“So how are you feeling today?”

“Quite good”, he replied humorously.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, sorry. You will recover from it one day.”

“I think I won’t. This particular situation is not under my control. This is unprecedented that I am unable to comprehend the things that are going on inside my head. This is pure torture and I can’t do anything because the root cause to this grueling pain lies within me. One can hide or run away from the source of fear or pain in usual scenarios. But how can I run away from myself? From this stupid and deeply sadist mind that seems to find pleasure in my misery”, completing the description he felt a sense of content as if he has done his part by naming all the culprits and their respective misdeeds.   

“You will be fine”, she asseverated.

“When?”

“When you will want to be”, she replied in a single monotone. The sheer simplicity of her reply accentuated the intended rationale rightfully. It would have been just an argument to him had it been not true. He knew it deep inside that the pain would vanish the second he decides to let go off her and move on. But he won’t. He chose to be with her till the end…and even after that, if it helped, in any sense, to appease her suffering. He chose to be miserable. He knew it well that this way he will not be able to move on…ever. “This heart will be useless without her, just pumping blood”, he said that gazing at the moon through the swaying branches of gulmohar tree in front of the house.

“Now why do you say that?”

“I haven’t wished for anything else for past 2 years”, it was more of a realization than a reply. “And now it’s like my glass of desire is already full of her, there is no space left for anything else.”

“We will put someone else in that glass”

“But the glass is already full. Addition of any other thing would only lead to overflowing.”

“Then we will make some space first”

“How”, he asked humorously… “The glass can’t be toppled”

“We will evaporate her….. then there will be much space for other desires”, her presence of mind attracted him. ‘Her words’, he thought ‘they have stated what the signs have been trying to tell me lately’. The signs have been telling him to let go off Sirka, and that there is a way out. It doesn’t matter if he wishes to see it or not, there will be a way out and he has no choice but to follow that path. Richzz has unknowingly confirmed him that the separation is inevitable. This confirmation was too haunting for him to accept so he ignored the signs once again and chose not to give up on Sirka. Apart from all these signs, he was moved by Richzz’s reply. She made him look what he couldn’t see for so long, the answer to all his sufferings, that it was simply his choice to be miserable or be happy. It depended solely on himself and no one else.
 ‘The answer was so simple… of-course we could evaporate it’, he thought to himself and smiled.

The Story

“What are you doing Raka ji?” the dulcet voice asked as it noticed a delay in reply from the other side of the phone. She too has gotten accustomed to these long night talks with him. The talks, which in itself has no meaning attached, but serves a very special purpose for both of them as an answer to the ever pestering desire to know that the other one exists. A desire that has no valid comprehendible justification. It is present in their minds all the time and that’s it.

“I was just browsing through your pics on orkut”, he said and stopped shuffling through her album at his favorite pic of her’s. He looks at her pic for a while and then stops, feeling guilty of committing a crime against his own virtues. He believed that he must only be attracted to the person that she is, to the entity that is present inside her physical being, to her soul. And hence attraction to any tangible part of her was an offense, a futile crime that may seem to achieve the ultimate closeness to her but will always lead to a few steps short of her. A deeper intrigue about this un-ending desire made him understand that it had no physical reason attached to it. The desire was born out of his curiosity to know the person behind that beautiful face. It was a projection of his urge to be with her, to know her and to unite with the ultimate source of that beauty. It was only when he established this in his mind in clear formed words that his desire was pure off and un-adulterated with any physical proportion that he continued… “I want to see more pics of your’s Sirka ji”.

“I don’t have any more photographs to show you. You have seen almost all my pics now.”

“But I want to see…. I want to see more of you.”

“None of my photographs is able to satisfy you. That worries me.” She replied in a sober tone. “Anyway, you were to tell me a story today”.

“Oh yes I remember…” and continued even though he didn’t had any story in his mind.

“There was once a couple called Raka & Sirka. They both loved each other a lot. Raka was a bit demanding as a lover.” She smiled in agreement. “He always used to ask Sirka to show her pics, she did… but his demand was never ending. He would ask for another one every other day. This used to make Sirka very uncomfortable as she wanted to fulfill every desire of Raka out of her unconditional love for him. So one day, she went to god, dismayed at her inability to serve Raka’s desire. God asked her about what made such a beautiful girl sad. So she went on to explain the problem to HIM and asked for a camera who’s picture could satisfy Raka’s desire.” he paused for a while in anticipation of her inevitable question.

”Then what did HE said?” she asked her question and then he continued.

“God smiled and said Dear Sirka, there is no camera in this whole world whose photographs could satisfy Raka. The answer to his desire is you.” She smiled at her acknowledgement of the logic he had been trying to show her.

“Ohk I got you”, she said as if the story had only been an argument against her dismay. The story, although targeted at this particular situation, served another purpose in-situ. Sirka has been harried by the thoughts that she might never be able to keep in line with Raka’s urge. That her ‘show of affection’ and her ‘confession of love’ will someday stop pleasing him, that someday he will grow bored and demand further closeness (not of bodies but of souls) to which she will have no answer. But this story had obliterated all these doubts by evincing her the one truth that stood tall and confident at its ability to thrash any counter argument to the ground in a single jolt of its logic. The truth that it was ‘She’ that Raka desired and nothing more and that the only thing she was required to do was to be herself. Relieved by this understanding, she continued “But this wasn’t a story, this was extempore”.

“Believe me Sirka ji, this is the most important chapter of our story”, and indeed it was…