Tere Bina

He sat alone in the middle of a crowded dim-lit dhabha – the dhabha to which Rajeev and Sanjana usually sneaked out from home. He felt lonely in spite of the presence of so many people. Sometimes, life seems all about a few people, the absence of whom makes us feel as if the whole world were depopulated.

A waiter placed the menu card on Rajeev’s table and stood by his side. Without much interest, he flipped through the booklet sized menu card. He saw all their favourite dishes listed one after another – the ones she monotonously ordered whenever he took her out to a hotel. He missed her even more.

Finally, he realized that the waiter was becoming impatient. Probably he was thinking that his customer was an illiterate. If Rajeev took another minute to place his order, the waiter might probably start listing out all that’s there in the menu card like a nursery kid enthusiastically singing her newly learnt rhymes as if she were the only one who could recite those lines with such perfection.

“One masala dosai and one filter coffee.” He said at last.

The waiter vanished even before Rajeev opened his mouth to ask for a glass of water. Had she been there, it would have been a Chola poori or Kotthu parota or Kaima idli with Masala tea. The cleaner would have a tough time cleaning up their table that would be laden with atleast half a dozen plates. He didn’t feel like having any of these without the poor girl who was skimming through each of her meals as if it were her duty. She was merely surviving on a diet that most often consisted of a calorie-conscious vegetarian burger and a big mug of fat-free milk. He sighed.

After having had his rather mediocre meal, he stood in the queue to make his payment. There was a small rectangular slate precariously leaning on what seemed like a flower vase. On the slate was written – “Today’s special – Chola Poori”

His lips curled into a sarcastic smile. Rajeev felt happy that he had sacrificed it for his sister. Eating that Chola poori wouldn’t have given him half that happiness.

P.S. 1: Mild ice puttings for my cousins. Dun’t mind oki. :D

P.S. 2: Save some crackers for me boys. :D

To where I belong

She lay curled on the bed, her eyes half open. She could smell the amritanjan on her forehead still lingering around her. It was quite early in the morning, a time even before dawn itself was awake. The window curtains were drawn apart and the beautiful white crescent shone on the dark black blanket of sky. A few stars twinkled, trying to outshine one another.

Her throat was parched. Looking for the flask of warm water kept by her bedside, she made an attempt to raise herself from bed. Her knees and elbows let out a crackle powerful enough for anyone to expect her entire skeleton to collapse. She pulled her eyelids tight together and twitched her face in pain. Slowly turning to one side, she lifted herself with both hands on the bed – a mighty effort on her part. The nerves running along her neck became more prominent as she gulped down the warm water in thirst.

She took the bead chain that lay beside her pillow and began to run them one-by-one between her index finger and thumb. Mumbling something as she did so, she kept staring at the sky as if expecting one of the stars to drop right beside her. Maybe not the star that was twinkling so far up in the sky, but the star of her life – Sanjeev.

It was now a little more than 2 years since he was gone – flown across oceans to complete a master’s degree that would earn him more reputation than it would if he had done the same course in his home country. He might never come back again she thought, or at least that’s what her neighbour’s gossiped. They said that he would settle there, earn in dollars, get married and raise kids who would speak their own mother tongue with an accent. It was all too hard to digest.

He had called her up a week ago only to whine about her how much he missed her during his graduation ceremony. Not having received any more calls since that one, she was puzzled. She comforted herself to the fact that he was probably busy and began to recollect the lovely moments she had had with him. Bedtime epic stories. Granny’s fast math techniques. Forced mridangam class. A bowl full of curd rice with homemade mango pickle. Chill sweet water from mud pot. Street games with pebbles. Plucking flowers from the garden for everyday puja.

Memory seemed like a funny thing, especially when it reflected a timeline of events in as short as few minutes, giving her the feeling that her 60-year old life had just whizzed past. She opened her eyes and looked out of the window once again. An aeroplane hovering in sight disturbed her silent journey of her own past. Cursing the loud noise, she got back to chanting.

Little did she know who was waiting to jump out of that flight and surprise her.

P.S.1: Miss paati, especially during a festive time such as Navrathri. Can't believe this is my third year sans celebrating navrathri, ganesh puja and diwali! Damn! :(

P.S.2: Missing amma's sundal is another :P

The Wait

A few minutes after his phone call, she sat at the corner of her bed fighting the tears in her eyes and the lump in her parched throat. With shivering hands, she began her letter.

That’s the last thing I wanted to hear. That’s the last thing I wanted to imagine happening to us. It wasn’t a very tight rope that I was clinging onto. It took Herculean effort on my part not to have expectations. I feigned that I was merely hoping that it would happen as soon as you promised. I admit.

Wasn’t it you who said that ‘if something has to happen, then the whole world would conspire.’ Now, it’s the same damn world that is conspiring against those small dreams which we secretly dreamt. Why should God who brought two souls together, enjoy the forlorn show of watching them shed tears as they long for each other from two parts of the world?

If this separation is the price I need to pay to be with you, so shall it be. For, sometimes, it’s all about giving up something you really want now for something you want for your entire life.

The last time you left me with your words of assurance that you would be back as soon as possible, I knew how much you meant it. I still know how hard you are struggling to make it. This is just to let you know that I’m with you through this rough patch.

Today, when that little hope we were hanging onto came trashing down, you so casually ask me if I would wait for you, very well knowing the obvious reply you would hear from me. If hearing it from me all over again makes you feel better, here I repeat myself,

“If not for you, the wait wouldn’t be any worth.”

Without wax,

Anjali

As she was folding the letter, a restless drop of tear inevitably fell upon the white sheet; blotting into a bigger dot and making the word ‘hope’ appear wriggly. She rewrote the word, folded the letter and mechanically scribbled his address on the envelope.

“This is just the beginning…” she thought, as she was making her way back from the post office, “The beginning of our struggle to be together, forever.”

P.S. 1: Loved the use of the phrase ‘without wax’ in Dan Brown’s Digital Fortress. Been waiting to use it in somewhere.

P. S. 2: Btw, it means – Sincerely (derived from the Spanish word – sin cera).

Reality

1991

Today was yet another hot day. Nonetheless, an eventful Friday it has been.

I was waiting outside the school gate, trying to spot my little daughter in the sea of excited kids. During the last 15 minutes of her final period, she would frequently look out of her classroom window to check if I am waiting outside to pick her up. Tears would well up in her eyes, if I fail to make my presence before the last bell rings.

Finally, I saw her waving out as she ran up to me. She was just as neat and fresh as she was when I dressed her up in the morning – a few fringes falling on her forehead and her ponytail dangling behind her back. A white handkerchief with light pink flowers, neatly folded into a quadrant, hung from the right side of her shirt. A white badge bearing her name, class and section was pinned up on her left. She walked with a lot more energy and enthusiasm than any other Friday usually instilled in her.

Handing over her lunch bag to me, she exclaimed, “Amma!!! Know what? Sharadha miss gave me one extra star for the chart we did yesterday.”

“Wow! That’s good!” I said, holding her tiny palm with my free hand and making my way out through the swarm of parents, grandparents, maids, autowallas and school kids.

“So, are we going to the beach today evening?” She asked, looking up at me and meddling with the bangle on my hand. The dark kajal in her eyes were just beginning to show up beneath her lower eyelids. I simply nodded, trying to draw my attention to the busy road and carefully get across.

She completed her weekend homework well ahead of time, in anxious anticipation of going to the beach, only to be spoilt by Rajeev’s late arrival from office. Time was a quarter past seven. My father-in-law insists that we do not go out to return late in the night. The beach plan had to be dropped.

“We can be there for just half an hour and get back. We shall go. Pleasssseee!” She pleaded. Her tone and request was too sweet to be ignored or rejected.

“We are not going today Roshni. Its late already and the beach gates close at 7pm.” I lied, with no other choice. I knew it was a funny thing to say. Rajeev was laughing behind my back.

Roshni’s face instantly withered. She has been sitting with the new copy of ‘Gokulam’ that Rajeev got for her on his way back. She’ll be fine when I tell her what I’ve made for dinner today.

2007

While having my late night shower after our return from the beach party, I remembered a strange incident that happened when I was in nursery. I wanted to talk to my mom and find out if she remembered it as well.

As she picked up my call, she started off with her usual, “Where are you?” question as against the general “How are you?” As I went on ranting about the day’s highlights, I told her about the beach party and bang came her autoreply, “So late!!”

This was my chance! “Apparently, beaches no longer close as early as 7pm like they used to 16 years ago.” I said sarcastically. Bang! I could imagine her hitting me on my head with her knuckle. We both burst out laughing.