You are beautiful..

Their eyes met across the room. She didn’t look away. He looks leaner, she thought and the beard suits him.

“I will come and whisk you away and never let you go”

“We will have a glass house just like the one in Sleeping With The Enemy”

“Let’s have the little girl you so want”

“You would never be lonely at twilight”

“You are my slut…only mine”

“I love you, I love you, I love you”

She wasn’t a child but she hung on to his every word. He was an artist and she believed him. Finally, he disappeared one day. Just like that. With her heart and a lot more. She had tried to call. She had even tried to reach his friends.

“Congratulations!” she smiles at him.

He stares at her. She looks gorgeous. Amazingly gorgeous.

“You…here…?” he mumbles.

“I work with Anita” she explains.

“Oh” He pauses.

“How have you been?” he asks, when they reach a quite corner. Most of the guests have left.

“Pretty good!” she smiles again.

“How is Rahul?” he asks without looking at her.

“ Oh, he is doing great. Busy with school. All grown up” she beams.

“I am sorry for….”

She reaches out and touches his hand.

“Let it be….” She says softly.

“I never…”

“Let it be, Nikhil. It’s been a long while. Maybe your compulsions were more than mine. Maybe you got bored of me. Maybe you didn’t want to hurt me with the truth. Maybe I didn’t deserve a goodbye. So let it go….”

“Su….”

“Nikhil, I have forgiven myself and I couldn’t do that without forgiving you”

“Please…”

“Take care of yourself, Nikhil. You will always be the man who made me feel like a queen” she smiles and squeezes his hand a little before letting go “even if it was only for a while”.

He tries to hold her hand. He tries to say something. Anything.

She walks away slowly without looking back.

Born on Martyr’s day. Martyr she will always be.

Where were you...

He visited last night. Dreadlocks. White mundu and white shirt. Which in itself was abnormal.

“Where were you all these days?”

“In a paying guest”

“What happened to your hair? They don’t have shampoo?”

“No, I like it this way” he smiles, touching his now matted curls.

“And your clothes? What happened to your clothes? There is so much lying in your wardrobe”

“Now, I wear only this. Give away my old clothes”

“Do you get enough to eat?”

“Yeah!”

“Fish?”

“Di, they don’t serve fish there” he grins.

“You know, I miss you”

“You have Ro to bug you now”

“It’s not the same”

“I know”

“I goto go”

“When will you come again?”

“I came today because you were sad”

“How did you know that?”

“Know that I know. Bye di”

He died on 11th September 2004. But in my dreams he lives.

Embarrassed

“The beer is getting to you”

“Naaah!” I slur, a little.

“Come, let’s go home”

As we step out, the maître de calls him aside.

He comes back grinning and whispers.

“Pull up your zip, Pee”

“W h a t?”

“Here, lemme help you” he winks and pulls me close.

The elevator thankfully was empty.

Today at the food court in a mall

I was busy tucking in my red curry rice for lunch when I notice the next table was filling up. Two nymphets clad in paris-hilton-inspired garb and their rotund 50ish mother in rich green kanjeevaram and 1-inch red bindi. They seem happy. The girls seamlessly chatter in english with occasional tamil with the mother, who smiles broadly. I watch with fascination. Then the girls went to get their food, keeping the mother to guard the much sought after table during Saturday lunch hour rush. They return with a tray laid out with masala dosa, rava idli, sambar and coconut chutney.

Oh I smiled, how nice. This must be for the mother.

Once they settle, the mother comfortably pulls out her colourful coin purse tucked in her blouse (a sight that doesn’t embarrass me anymore) walks up to the Subway counter, stands among other minimal clothed younglings, orders a pickled delight in tamil and comes back to the table with easy gait. The girls eat their dosa carefully with forks and knives while the mother unwraps the sandwich with relish and begin to tear pieces of bread with her fingers before placing them in her mouth just like a paratha.

My plate empty, I walk away with one last admiring look at my recent neighbours. Lesson learnt. Never typecast.

You and I

“You didn’t!”

Yep, I did” he smiled.

“You booked five rows for her?”

“I would book the entire theater for you” he smiled again.

“Liar! The show was houseful because of you!”

“I didn’t know you then”

“I would have killed you!”

“I would have kissed you”

“It’s never too late you know” she smiles.

Truth

I

“I have to tell you something”He says slowly.

He leaves the door open and lets her step inside.

“Oh good! Me too!” She beams.

“Tell me…”

“We are going to have a baby!”

She hugs him tight.

He sits down on the sofa with a thud.

She hasn’t seen his packed suitcase upstairs yet.

II

“I have to tell you something”

He says as she opens the door.

She smiles.

“Shall I get you tea?”

“No..”

“ I don’t know how to begin…” he trails off.

“Don’t. I have packed your suitcase”

"What?”

“You can leave before Vicky comes back from school”

“Dia…”

"Yes, I saw her message last night”

Another love turns cold

"She is amazing!"

"Oh.."

"What?"

"I am happy for you, you know…"

"Hey you have to help me with the ring…"

"Ring?"

"Yeah….I wanna surprise her on her birthday!"

"Oh.."

"What?"

"Sure…"

"Thanks pal!"

He gives her a tight hug and walks to his car.

She sits at the café hoping it wouldn't hurt forever.

One morning at work

He picks up and flips through her desk calendar.

Reed thin, long legged models stare back seductively at him.

“So you like models?”

Her sarcasm is evident.

He smiles. The calendar still in his hands.

“But they stay here”He quickly returns the calendar.

Walks away embarrassed.

“Idiot” she thinks.

“I like her” he thinks.

Love in an Elevator

“You are really l a t e ?”

“Your office is really far”

“You should have started earlier!”

“I did! But you know the traffic here….”

“Tell that to my BOSS!”

“ Did you get your BP checked today?”

“Huuuh? I hate you!”

“Really?”

She begins to speak. He bends over and kisses her lips.

Living in your afterglow

Star Movies. Dominick and Eugene.

Mid movie, he turns and says. " We are like that na?"

"Yeah.." she says distractedly.

“We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl…...” he sings softly.

“Oh…not again” she rolls her eyes.

Years later she watches the movie again. Alone. “…wish you were here…” she sings off key.

Blush

He asks gently, " You are in love with a v o i c e?

Then he smiles. Says, " I know exactly how you feel...and it feels good doesn't it?"

I look at him as my eyes fill.

"How is he?"

"He...is amazing"

He notices my blush and says, " He must be..." Pause.

Why do you have to go?

Faith Hill, he and I.

She sings 'I can feel you breathe.....’

I listen to his heart beating another name.

He says, “She never sounded this good before”

“It’s me, you fool”, I tease.

He gets up from the bed slowly.

“Stay, pleeeease”, I cry.

“This is all we can ever have”, he says softly.

Here I am, lost in the light of the moon that comes through my window

“You are crazyyyy!” he says in exasperation.

“Am I ?” she says amused.

Lying in her bed watching the shadow creep over the face of the moon, she smiled. She knew he didn’t enjoy being woken up at 3.30 a.m. to be told about the shadowed moon, specially since in his part of the world there was nothing out of ordinary in the night sky.

“Wish you were here…” she says.

“Mmmn…” he mumbles sleepily.

“We would have laid down together and watched the moonlight play tricks….”

No sound this time. He must be asleep. She disconnects the phone and looks at the sky. Its 4.40 a.m. and the moon is a faint silhouette with a slightly reddish halo. She watches in silence. But her mind is far from quiet. Random thoughts of Hiawatha and her grandmother…what was her name?…yes Nokomis…but why did the moon remind her of that poem? Feeling of melancholy perhaps…She thinks of ‘Chander Pahar’…Mountain of the Moon…but that was goosebumpy adventure….so why does it sadden her? Then the recent Japanese writer she was reading. The story where they leave their aged to the ‘moon mountain’ to die…..

Snap out of it she tells herself. Can’t you think of something joyous? But the moon looks desolate and desperate. She misses her brother. He would not have dismissed her as easily. They have shared many a night in comfortable silence watching the sky from his 6th floor window. She misses her grandfather. He had led them both to watch the sky on stifling summer nights. They used to lay down on the terrace on ‘madurs’ as the night sky came alive in his voice. He told them about Orion and Artemis, about Andromeda and Centaur. In their child’s fancy they would point to a star and shine their Eveready torchlight and he would ask them to calculate how long it would take for the light to reach.

Now, she can’t reach them anymore except in her heart.

It's almost day break and the sky is a pale hue. She drifts into a dreamless sleep as her pillow remains wet.