He loved the sea. She on the contrary was always fascinated; awed by the mysterious reticence of the cloud kissing mountains…..it’s strange how the absence of an individual had gradually let the waves drown the lofty peaks and fill her entire mindscape with an endless stretch of grey waters….. They had been to the sea once…he, searched for fishes on the beach and she, sought his soul……. Yet it was he who sought her out in a true Thespian fashion. It was well past midnight; she had just finished her dinner when her cell phone instrumentally expressed Lionel Ritchie’s heart tugging query…”Hello, is it me you’re lookin’ for ?.” The caller was less of a friend, more of a brother whom she lovingly called Bill Gates. The call didn’t come as a surprise; what came as an astonishment was the content of the message…..a certain friend of his was going through a purple patch in life and she was needed to boost this stranger’s morale in the form of a friend….!!!
Forty five minutes past midnight; a married guy with a bumpy marriage, seeking for a female friend was a bit too much to swallow, and to crown it all, this linking philanthrop was trying to impress on her that he had unveiled before her eyes the gallery of bizarre qualities this unknown neon of brilliance actually possessed. But in reality both knew that it was the most glaring lie that was painstakingly struggling to get itself established. Comprehending her friend’s helpless desperation she smothered her arguments and reassured that she was well aware of this latest walking wonder of the world. The conversation with this stranger was stranger….courtesy on one end, hesitation on the other…..After a laconic exchange of apologies and pleasantries, came the million dollar question….”Do you think sex kills love???” ….”I don’t think so”…..a very shaky reply emanated from her end. Could he trace the diffidence in her voice? Who cared if he did? Was it necessary to be candid to someone she didn’t even know had existed a few minutes back? How could anyone answer that question, especially to whom sex was a nightmare, and love, a distant dream? The rest of the conversation was pretty formal and she found herself declaring “I’ll try my level best to help you…..” But why was she reassuring him? Honestly she had no idea….Was it because they shared a common platform….uneven conjugal grounds??? ….May be……
Great masters have stormed their brains to the point of frenzy on the subject of causality and effects, and as she lay awake that night gazing at the distant stars that shimmered millions of light years away, the mysterious midnight blue with specks of white fire sparked off another uncanny query : Why this chance introduction??? Who was it that said ….thoughts brought in all complexities in human life? Perhaps Conrad…..he was so true. Why can’t the mind be transformed into a slate, she mused and smiled at her own Ovidian thought.
The midnight call was succeeded by diurnal calls and messages- first sporadically then frequently. The wrappers began to unwind themselves. There was exchange of information regarding self, swot and sorrows. As the degree of similarity rose she felt herself being drawn towards this “voice male” and almost simultaneously a counterforce of withdrawal began to make its presence sharply felt. The insistence on a rendezvous came from the other end quite often but she found herself evading the subject. Too many questions were crowding her mind: she was very sociable; she loved meeting and mapping minds. Why was she pulling the reins now?
Suddenly there a came a caesurae…….He left station on an official tour. All communication braked to an abrupt halt for three days. For the first time she rebuked a student in the class who did nothing to deserve her caustic words. A shallow incident; the import, fathomless. The pregnant silence of the night escorted the most eloquent realization…..she actually missed him!!! But why?
………A little girl huddled up in the window box, gazed at the sporting elfin cloudlets on the blue airy playground, searching for a playmate, she was convinced, hid somewhere behind those downy patches. Sometimes he would appear, a prankish figure cast by her puerile imagination, with sparkling eyes and a naughty grin. But every time before she could address this “Phantom of delight” he dissolved into the blue…..Since then she has been running endlessly after this elusive playmate….Did he arrive at last? Was it he?
That night she had a strange dream…..on the wide steps of a temple stood a young boy with flowers cradled in a lotus leaf, waiting for someone who had promised to give him white lotuses…..the petulant barks of a pariah dog ripped the veil of Morpheus apart. She whiled away the night contemplating those white lotuses…her passion.
It was finally on a sultry August evening she had gone down to meet him. This non aligned summit was scheduled at 6.30 p.m. She left home at 6.30.She was caught between the see-sawing points of the affirmative and negative. The heart said’ yes.’ The mind said, ‘no’. It was like throwing down the gauntlet to Destiny. And in this agon between Shakespeare and Sophocles, the latter won. Neither was aware of the other’s appearance. Trailing the tone of that wandering voice she had conjured the image of a moderately tall, dusky and hefty man with mediocre looks and with an aura of ‘I’m the best’ around his entire being. Her imagination received the biggest jolt when from somewhere around the ticket counter of the tube rail station emerged a high-school boy like figure carrying a laptop which had a greater semblance to a satchel than what it actually was God! He was so tiny and cute. She just couldn’t tame her waggling tongue from exclaiming ‘Hey! You’re so small’. But perhaps he was more disappointed with her appearance: casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a white top, closely cropped hair. The only feminine aspect in that entire package was a pair of soft kohl smeared eyes. Later he expressed that he had expected to meet a lady wearing horn rimmed glasses, clad in a pink floral printed saree, with the pen clipped on to her blouse and her hair tied in a loose bun that caressed her nape…..quite a revolutionary portraiture for a tomboy like her She was almost scandalized by this super imposed feminity
As he poured out the contents of his past she tried to fathom that missing piece that seemed to have slipped away from his life. Marriages in the Golden Age were presumably made in Heaven but in this silicon era most are made in hell. But it at least took a year or two to get demystified. His was barely six months old!
Someone had redefined ego as ‘edging God out’ and she distinctly understood what had turned his marriage sour….the proverbial clash of wills. Although she was very vocal when it came to male chauvinism, she had always believed in her heart of hearts that women, being the epitome of patience and mental strength played an instrumental role in cementing and sustaining family ties. It’s unfortunate that we have converted this sacred institution into a battle ground where simply a mortal signature can efface the indelible writing of the immortal fingers……
The conversation gained momentum. The similarities were ripping old wounds afresh and before the blood could ooze out she wanted to leave. But like a typical Launcelot he insisted on chaperoning her back home. It was an exploring mind, a fugitive heart, a bemused cab driver and a bouquet of songs all the way. Music had always been her elixir but at that moment she was unsure of the role it played: a cameo or camaraderie…she simply couldn’t figure out. Whatever it was the Eastern Metropolitan Bypass seemed new.
As soon as she reached her room, she hastily typed a ‘thank you’ message but it wouldn’t go. Network failure! Eventually the telecom industry showed its benevolence and almost simultaneously a message flashed across her phone screen…. ‘Honestly I ws wtng 4 a msg frm u.Aftr nt gttng tht 4 sm time I thot the honors wr left 4 me and I ws gttng preprd 2 snd a msg myslf whn I gt urs.frm my side it ws ‘wonderful tonight’.Thanx maam 4 lttng me re live the moments of wtng 4 a girl and thn tking hr 4 a date.’
……after aeons she could actually feel the elfin girl within her blush….That was the beginning of her story….their story, the story of racing pulsations, skipping heart beats, unguarded smiles and wet eyelashes. The meetings became regular, the distance shorter. Then came the much awaited escape into the country side “far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife.” There were stars and glow worms, the sparkling water, the aerial whispers, the magic moments….and the mysterious smile on the lips of the moon. It was a night of melting surrender, a night of simmering warmth.
Some magic raised her above the social taboos and it never occurred to her that socially they were not meant for each other. Strangely it always felt so right to arrange a surprise birthday party the day he turned 33; to buy an insignificant gift and wait for hours in the prankish summer rains on the eve of Bengali new year or pick up a box of cookies from the departmental store just because he loved them; or emptying the heart of its scariest spectres that appeared from time to time to torment her wretched soul. It wasn’t a clichéd romantic saga for they had their differences of opinion, violent encounters, and moments of raw unleashed energy yet there was a subtle strong invisible thread that kept them together. Many a time there was… “So it’s over?”, …. “You’re not going to see me any more…”…. “You have lost me” or… “I just want to die tonight.” But some unseen forces brought them back together.
Would any sane mind dare to fly down from a different city only to spend a day with someone as he had promised and then fly back the next morning? What can one say of a not so young crazy man who could cancel his flight ticket, antagonize his colleagues and superiors, cook up fake excuses to numerous people because a mute expression in someone’s eyes had to say ‘ please don’t go’? Together they ventured into gossamer realms of the incy-wincy-spider, stopping by the bower of the elves and fairies, peeped into the hovels of the hobgoblins, sailing through the portals of myths, history, movies music and technology…even the rarefied and abstruse spheres of philosophy and spiritualism was not left unvisited. Yet at times he did not falter to accuse her of indulging in ‘intellectual masturbation’.
Both loved to talk: he to express and she to suppress. He was desperate to be understood and she to be misunderstood. But whenever together they would saunter into the wild retreat of the ‘bears and squirrels.’ To her every moment of togetherness was like a new birth. But every birth is accompanied by a pain as it carries with itself the shades of death. The social responsibility was gradually sitting heavy on his tameless spirit. The once much dreamed of nuptial anchorage was slowly chaining him down. While the aquiline spirit wanted to break free the vulnerable heart succumbed to the social pressure.
She tried with all her might to protect him but could do nothing to prevent the blows of Destiny from falling on him. A few incomprehensible chants uttered before the burning element proved stronger that the power of the heart. She could no longer stand and watch the blood spurting out of his being…..
….. “ It’s great art, possibly the greatest art to know when to move, when to break the roots, often in pains and tears; to shake hands to say goodbye; not looking back….” But she had nothing to look forward to. It was the transmigration of a corpse from one grave to another. Her mind, soul and heart she had lost to him long, long ago…much before the birds learnt to build their nests….It was excruciating to be a lone spectator to this unholy ritual of pain….
The day she left him it had rained. All her tears, all nature’s tears could not drown the leaping flames of anguish blazing in her heart. ‘You are requested to keep your seat belt fastened.’….She was moving away from her roots, from him, from their dream….the dream of being together ‘though hell should bar the way’……He would despise her for escaping like a coward, for deserting him at the mercy of that relentless executioner called life….for shattering all those bold commitments she had made. She would rather live with his hatred and her guilt as long as she could live without him. She had willingly don the robes of Iscariot….nothing would redeem her.
As the silver wings kissed the tear filled cloudlets, a wave of emptiness filled her entire being. The dormant rebel within her wanted to scream out at the man upstairs ‘what did we do to deserve all this?’ But she knew her query would be answered with that proverbial silence. She recalled Porter’s words, ‘the injustice of it is almost perfect. It’s the wrong people going hungry; the wrong people dying…the wrong people being loved…’only in their case it was the right people being loved at the wrong time…..
He always claimed that he did not believe in love but what he possibly couldn’t see was he had loved her with his entire being. Only a woman knows when she’s being truly loved. No evidence was required.
As the aircraft taxied down the Santa Cruz runway she felt a sharp pain slicing through her veins. Her own blood has always been her enemy. But now the same old enemy seemed like a friend. She knew she has reached her twilight zone. An old friend who had come to receive her said she looked like a ghost from the past. He would never realize that her past was now her present and her future….she had left her life hundreds of mile behind in the being of that school boy like figure with the laptop slung across his shoulder….
To find a living with her qualifications was not that difficult but living life itself was the greatest torture. Each day is a fresh ride on Axion’s wheel. How he was scared to ride the giant wheel.
So many times like a frantic she tried to close her mind on him but despite her desperate attempts he sneaked through some unnoticed creeks of her psyche and usurped her entire being. Just love could have made oblivion possible but they had lived each other, lived every moment of thunder and sunshine so intensely that their elements have mingled together….
‘Would you bear my child….?’ It was so wrong to indulge in the luxury of that sacrilegious thought but why did it feel so sacred? ‘The thought changed the Infinite into a Serpent’ Blake had realized the truth centuries ago…..For how many degrees would the needle of sin have tilted if they loved and lived together? How many realities shattered if a single dream was realized? How many social rule books sickled if their combined loved reaped a human harvest? …..
…..A sudden hoot of a car marauded those two iridescent years under its black wheels. Just a while ago everything seemed so real that she could almost reach out and touch them. She glanced at her watch: it was thirty minutes past eight! It was hard to believe that she has actually relived all those seven hundred and thirty days within a span of three and a half hours. Another three and a half hours to go and he would turn 35…he never wanted to grow up… She had to pick up the cake and rush back home to decorate the room. It would be a very private birthday party…just she and her memories alone. So what if he were not there to be the guest of honour? He was everywhere….in all those creeks and caverns of her broken heart; in all those empty containers of colognes that are redolent of his touches; in that yellow scrubber that still carries the masculine scent, so typical of him; in all those invisible imprints of his fingers he has left on her entire being; in all those messages carefully treasured in her SIM card; in all those songs he loved so well and in all those dreams that crowded her sleepless eyes….
The wall clock completed its twelfth stroke. It was September 4th. She lit the candle on the cake…a tiny honey bear….’you have broken my confidence’…. How he hated to be compared to tiny things! She blew out the candle and prayed for his long life where all dreams would turn real….those unfinished dreams she had left scattered in his somnolent eyes….Rain clouds threatened from every corner of her eyes. She had resolved not to shed her tears today but it was so difficult to stop them. Through the shimmering droplets she could see a pair of tiny, soft, plump hands encircling her neck; a riot of black silk curls caressed the edge of her chin while he proceeded for the security check with the lap top slung across his shoulder…
“Final call for the passengers flying…..”
Opening the drawer she brought out a small smooth vial. Her frantic thoughts ran haywire…she took a deep breath to rein her chaotic thoughts. Slowly she emptied the soporific contents into her cupped palm but before she could reach out for the glass of water, the flitting call of a migratory duck slowed down the ticking moments of departure, gushing in a sweeping tide of nostalgia…for one last time she rushed back to the window to take a last look at the night sky. The distant lamps glimmered eternity away…..Across the spaces of time her spirits yearned for that school boy like figure with his laptop slung across his shoulder….He must be sleeping now beside someone to whom he lawfully belonged.
Society christened them adulterers…..
“And the early morning in which the professor,
Without a thought
Pays his conjugal debt and eats breakfast
And ….the adulterers, who love each other truly
On beds as tall as ships
So eternally…..”
Perhaps an unknown pain knifing through his heart would ruffle his sleep….perhaps he would wake up wondering why a strange sadness tugged at a tender chord of his heart. He would never know that across the distance of time and space a lonely heart whispered its last goodbye to the invisible couriers of the sky that would never reach him…
Before the ‘drowsy numbness’ descended on her weary eyelids she turned her wistful eyes towards the sky to search for that elfin playmate…the burning specks grew dimmer. For one last moment she strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of that school boy like figure with the laptop slung across his shoulder…..
“And now you’re mine. Rest with your dream in my dream
Love and pain and work should all sleep, now.
The night turns on its invisible wheels,
And you are pure beside me as a sleeping amber
No one else, Love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go,
We will go together, over the waters of time.
No one else will travel through the shadows with me
Only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon.
Your hands have already opened their delicate fists
And let their soft drifting signs drop away; your eyes closed like two gray
Wings and I move
After, following the folding water you carry, that carries
me away. The night, the world, the wind spin out their destiny
Without you, I am your dream, only that and that is all...
……Gazing through the portals of darkness, she could see a penumbral archway where Somnus stood silently with a sad smile on his lips but Morpheus was gone forever…
Chanted By MORPHIANA
you have a god sent writing ability which flows in these literary pieces.
ReplyDeletePlease do not let it go waste...develop it and harness it like the rain water....
beautiful and very heart wrenching......