Silhouette of Smoke…

Sitting on the lonely steps of the grocer, it suddenly seemed that Life ploy-ed in a rather languid manner of mere time flow. The sheer naturalness of routine was hindered by an old known face in the crowd. It took away all that was unremarkable about the monotony of labor and replaced it with distant memories of the past. A phase that was lost in the years when life had progressed; now came back as a beautiful present. And though I tried to meet her, she just disappeared in the crowd; almost as if she were a mirage. I wasn’t day dreaming and I was certain. I knew I had to find her again.

When I came back to my master, this mere delay had galled his temper. I wasn’t to be spared for such laxness. There was his whip, and it reminded reminded me of my life in the face of reality. I was no apprentice of the day’s greatest and most powerful necromancer…but a mere slave of his…The Great Zafar!

The wound from the caning didn’t matter today. What mattered was the truth, that she was here…and all I knew was… that I had to meet her, again.

I gathered the fallen vegetables and headed to the kitchen. This was one place; I had my liberty to dream… And today, there was more to believe and think, than just dream. “Astera” was in this town of Persepolis.
She was the young girl; I had fell in love with…the one I have seen growing up in the arms of “Nazeer Chacha”… the one who fantasized my youth. Their old vast courtyard in the town of Susa;in which she spent her childhood, lay a many memories of mine. Astera Kazemi was the beautiful Zad of Nazeer Kazemi. Chacha, a soldier in the Sultan’s Imperial Army was tall and he stood strong, with his broad shoulders. He appeared powerful and fierce, yet I knew how compassionate and gentle this man was on the inside. It was no easy a task to nurture a motherless child; but this man raised her like no one else could! It was hard to believe; how a warrior, clad in his armor and Royal uniform could be this affable that his mere touch would put his child to sleep…almost instantly.

I was only a street urchin then, living life in perfidious manner. I didn’t have any parent to teach me the difference between right and wrong… the difference between good and dishonest; so I grew up learning one easy fact… if I needed it, I just took it! Our first encounter on the bazaar of Susa; I was young and unabashed. He caught me stealing, from a fruit vendor. I knew my fate…it couldn’t be different from a thief’s. I almost cried at the thought of a hundred whips or my hands being chopped off! But, he spared my act. I was surprised, when he gave me the fruits to eat and forced me to promise that I would never steal again. He was a good man, and he had touched my heart in more ways than I could imagine standing there and feeding on the fruits. Never till this day, had anyone been so kind to my existence. When he patted my head, I felt warm; feelings which were so unrealized filled me with an unreal urge to associate myself to this man. I followed him, in his unknown, to know where he lived.

In the darkness of the night; far away from his knowledge, I sheltered myself on a broken ledge of a nearby building. I watched him, doing his daily household chores. It appealed to me, the manner in which he fed his child, who would impatiently sit on his lap playing! He would tell her stories, till she fell asleep in his arms. Tender and with much care, he would tuck her in her cot. Assured, that she was deep in her sleep; he would fold his hands in prayer and beseech in clean clothes. After that he sat on the porch, with his hookah. It amazed me, why he gazed at the vastness of the sky for so long. From the distance I could make out he spoke to himself, but never knew what he said. I wanted to know; cause every time he finished his smoke, his hands would be cupped against his face for time longer than usual. It was only after a prolonged vigilance that I realized that he did it to wipe his tears. I felt helpless in these times, but the guilt I couldn’t do anything to comfort him; put me more to unrest. I was careful not to fall asleep on the ledge; that I couldn’t disappear into the night, but at times when I did fall asleep..i managed to evade any roving eye.

I didn’t have a home; just an arrangement, nestled in a deserted n broken down building far away from the city limits. It sheltered me from the harshness of the weather. Inside was an old carpet, I slept on…and this is with a small pile of clothes was all I had as my belonging. To sustain, I stole from people! The question of like or dislike didn’t make much relevance, cause this was the only thing I knew and the one thing I could do.

I have never been a person, who could defend his actions with a good reason; so maybe I never questioned the impulse for this inane yet spotless nocturnal vagary. It was more like a routine…or a spell; that pupated me to see them almost every night. For months, all of this followed a careless virtue until one night an unknown man saw me asleep on the ledge. I was deep in slumber.
The raised alarm of the gathered crowd woke me up… but I wasn’t in command of my instincts; and by the time I realized what was happening…I was surrounded by a mob armed with lanterns, sticks and domestically lethal tools. The circumstances would not allow any other notion. Yes, a thief was caught…and the only thing that went through my mind was death! There was no escape or defending, it was almost eminent that tonight would be my last night…I was scared!
Out of nowhere a powerful blow, knocked me off the ledge. I was on the streets now, surrounded and helpless; and before I could gain any control to stand up…came a volley of punches and kicks! The charge of the sticks pinned me to the ground. I was bleeding…things started to blur out and before I knew; all was dark!

It was the heat of the sun, hammering my senses when I opened my eyes. My hands were in shackles, tied to a post on the lonely end of a porch. There was an uncanny familiarity to this surrounding and to my surprise; in front of me, stood the man himself!

“Do you know who I am, boy?” He asked me in his heavy accentuated guttural and commanding voice.

I just stared blankly!

“ My name is Nazeer Kazemi! The most trusted and feared soldier of His Highness’ Imperial Army!”

I wasn’t afraid at the moment, just perplexed at his presence. I gaped at him with puzzled eyes. He was for real and he was right in front of me. His voice didn’t threaten my daze; I just sat there, dumbstruck..tied to the post. He was losing patience and it was evident.

He came closer, picked me up by the throat and spoke loud… “ Don’t try my patience boy! I know you… you are the bastard from the market; ain’t you? What were u doing here?”

Before I could speak; came a hard slap. This almost knocked me to the ground. My lips started bleeding again!

“Tell me, why were u stealing again?”

I didn’t have an answer, and it was evident that my silence wouldn’t be my savior for the moment…actually I doubted if anything would! His heavy breathing, made me understand… that he was losing patience faster than I could come up with words! In a diff. situation, at a diff. time, I might still might have tried to talk my way out, but I didn’t…rather, I just sat there.
Lines on his forehead were distinctively outlined at this point. He was bristling. A hammer like fist hit me again. My little nose was broken, and I could taste the blood trickling down to my already distorted lips. I closed my eyes, in anticipation of a similar series to follow. But to my surprise, it didn’t. Cause when I opened my eyes, he wasn’t there in front of me!

My blurry apperception saw him standing across the courtyard. In his arms was Astera, crying at the sight of such violence. He tried to calm her, soothe her; but the poor child wouldn’t just stop crying. When he wiped her tears, I wished if he could do the same to me. My body had endeared physical abuse a lot many times; but the tears that rolled down my cheeks wasn’t for the pain, it just ran…for reasons I couldn’t comprehend then! I wasn’t angry or filled with vengeance against him, which was very much in contrast to the poison that such encounter had previously infused in my senses; rather I carved for his gentle touch…even more!

“Damn!”  The knife missed the potato and slit my finger instead. It bled a little but annoyed me more for this sudden disrupt in thoughts. I washed off the blood and cleaned the wound; but to my surprise, my sub consciousness craved for Nazeer’s touch!
That day, I didn’t try to run away or escape; rather, just sat there watching him calm his daughter. May be I did have a remote hope…a hope, that he would look after me as well! Nazeer put his consoled child down and instructed her to go inside the house. His steps, now marched towards me. I wasn’t intimidated, just a little dizzy from the abuse and heat; but I was plagued by an absurd hope. I believed, he would wipe my tears and blood! He came closer and I looked at him in anticipation of the reality of my bizarre thoughts! His hands touched me, not to comfort…but to cause unbearable pain…again!

 I was almost unconscious again, and of what I could make out from his bunting…I realized that he was cursing me for making his child cry! I had no idea, how I did that; and at this moment, all I wanted was a drop of water and I collapsed again!

SPLASH! My eyes spread wide open; my parched body gasped for water to drink, but the droplets that trickled down my face just wasn’t enough to satisfy this thirst! I was wheezing; but Nazeer didn’t let me die of this aridity!

“Do I drag you to his Majesty’s court or chop your hands and burry you in the sands right now! Tell me boy, which one of these is your last wish?”

I didn’t have the energy to speak; but this insubordination would bring unthought-of suffering to me, that I was sure of. I had to speak if I were to expect to be alive!

“I didn’t come to steal!”

 My nebulous words did not surprise him. He wouldn’t believe anything that I said; how could he? It made no Cognizance to me as well! I wished I could make a story up, but there was none…the worst was the fact that my reality was just unreal!

“Liar! I will kill you myself.” The shine on his curved blade was baleful! This was the end of my miserable life, and I knew it…so all I did, was wait for it to come down!

“Don’t kill him Abba; please…he is not a bad man!”

Nazeer’s young girl, had burst into tears at such sight of violence! She wouldn’t let go off her father’s pajama, tightly clenched in her fingers, till he restrained from such act and promised to be merciful. This really wasn’t happening; it just did not make sense. How could a little girl overpower the ferocity of a warrior? How did she make him drop his sword? What was happening….and how did it just happen? I sat flummoxed at the incomprehensibility of the situation!

The hand which could kill now soothed a child; such gentleness and compassion was bemusing! Nazeer picked her up in his arms and tried to comfort her and it didn’t take a while to silent this weeping girl! What followed next can’t even be explained by the present maturity of today’s me!
Nazeer unshackled me and directed me to clean myself up.

“Take this and never show your face again. I see you anywhere in the neighborhood, and I swear by the name of Allah…I will make a feast for the vultures from your flesh!”

These were the last words I heard from him when he handed me a loaf of bread and some cooked vegetables! I vowed to myself, never again would I follow my bewilder thought to see him!
 By the time all this drama ended, the sun had set and I disappeared once again into the darkness. I cried after a very long time; as I rested on my carpet, thoughts of the day made sleep difficult to put my aching body to rest!

My master’s supper was ready; one thing I have learnt over the years of service is the fact that he could never tolerate delays in any nook of his schedule! I spread the table, and mentioned that food was being served!

“You have been wandering the past, boy! Understand the consequences of your act!”

Old age had made him a little frail; but every sense of his, worked better than even a man who was half his age! The deep thought lines of his forehead weren’t just signs of his age, but a clear indication of his understanding of this universe. He knew it all…everything that I was thinking…everything that I was being possessed by! But all of it, didn’t really seem important…so, maybe I did not pay much heed to this seemingly non threatening gesture of Zafar!

I didn’t choose this life; but over years of unabashed living and purposeless time spent, brought me to this state. As I ate the left over’s, my heart sank a tad… it wasn’t that I was sad, just…just not content. There was no honor…and my life had worth no more than the dog on the street. Zafar’s attic was the place I used to rest; I have a bed roll to sleep on, but more than anything else, it was the only place I found a small fragment of peace! I could see the stars from here. They looked beautiful, spread far across against the serenity of the night… they shimmered, far and wide…as far as eyes could see!

I could see the Haptōiringa (Pers. Haft-owrang).

The gypsy magician, Ebrahim, told me how it showed the seven marks.

“Let the seven marks be anything you want them to be; my boy! Let them be your source for better living.”

The seven marks, of his story kept changing its concept and context; so I never knew what those seven marks were. I gathered the marks as an innocent wish!
He showed me the ways to identify the Sênmurw (a legendary dog-headed bird) with a constellation such as Aquila (the Eagle) or its most prominent star Altair (the Bird) spread in the sky...and yes, they were all fascinating; the stars and his stories.

 A magician, in the touring group of gypsy entertainers; Ebrahim’s act and persona cast a spell on his audience. He would captivate men and women alike! Though Bohemian and immoral by nature and acts, yet his popularity surpassed all boundaries and kingdoms! Truth be told, I was possessed by his way of life. So convinced was I that this seemed the only meaning to my life...the only purpose to live!
My broken leg was a major disability in the act of thievery. A failed attempt to rob a fortune had spared my life but did cost me my limb. I joined his touring group; with a belief, that someday he would honor his promise to cure my disability! Years past, but never came the cure…all that was passed on, was his cynic attitude and addiction to intoxication! I never earned money in lieu of my services, just various items of elation! Age did not kill him; just the vile of his deeds took his last breath. He passed me on to his master…The Great Zafar; I remained a slave then…and even today. Being an apprentice would still be an honor, but my life had none! There are times I think and question myself the reason for my life; I could never come with a substantial reason. I deduced my inability to die or kill myself as the only reason for my living.
A fallen star, reminded me of her…. ‘Astera’, a star…that’s what her name meant! And maybe it was through the stars that I kept this furtive romance alive! She was a reason why I broke my vow and visited Nazeer Chacha! I had to, cause if I didn’t they couldn’t survive!

War had devastated our peaceful nation. It did not last very long but the after math cut through the lives of many. I was revisiting the town with my group of gypsies. I saw Nazeer Chacha in the market once again. This time; he did not stand tall, but bent down. He was weak and vulnerable. He was begging for a little food! Inside me was a strong urge to run to him and help him… but I stood back and just watched him.
 He had lost an arm. May be his job…and even his pride! I could never believe this fate for him. He was so vulnerable; I wanted to help him…wanted to know if Astera was ok! I had to; they were the only two people I ever imagined as family! I never existed for them, yet they meant a lot to me!!

Once again I found myself, walking the desolated streets to their house. I carried a basket of food; it wasn’t a lot, but enough to keep them alive for a day or two. I knocked on the door, but I was afraid to meet either of them. I had no answer, if they questioned me regarding my identity or intent. So I just kept the basket near the door and took cover on the old ledge. She opened the door, the light from the lantern, lit a face more beautiful than the splendid of a million stars and the moon! I gasped, at the sight. She was so grown up and looked so angelic. The desolation of the courtyard and the pain of her old man caused only a minor stir in me; I was just mesmerized by her beauty!

Once again I found myself repeating my nocturnal emprise; only this time, my worthless life and acts seemed a little more meaningful. I loved the way her delicate hands would feed the old man. She took care of him, the way he did when she was young. I wished I could tell them, it was me who kept the baskets every night; but I couldn’t! A few weeks passed, and I was on the road again. Through varied terrains and kingdoms, my caravan of nomadic gypsies journeyed in search of new places to entertain and earn. Every night, I wished I didn’t have to travel so far away from her. The memories of them, made me happy and sad at the same time. No hooch or afeem could make me forget her; rather the thoughts grew stronger…weaving quixotic inklings under the open sky. I had created my own world, and everything was just perfect in it! I tried to return back to her, but it was a herculean task.

I did run back once, only to find a deserted courtyard. The neighbors said,  Nazeer had passed away long back and his daughter stayed with her aunt in some distant state. No one quite knew, where she was or may be none wanted to let me know! I searched endlessly for her…and here she was. After years, I found her…in my own kingdom. I was tired from the day’s work, but my dozing senses vowed, that this time I wouldn’t just let her go!!

The next morning started with a more convivial spirit. I was surprisingly happy. I had found a new meaning and purpose. Though I worked the chores with revived pertinacity, my mind was occupied by her thoughts. The moment I realized that my master was resting, I would go about inquiring about her.
My efforts finally paid off one fine day. This time I didn’t shy away. I went up to her and introduced myself. She was buying vegetables; and I didn’t want to make all of this awkward, so I spoke in the most urbane manner I could. The detailed narrations of her past years, failed to seal any authority on the veritable existence of mine. I did not know what I would do next; I never contemplated the fact that she would fail to recognize me.

She politely, bid adieu saying I might have mistaken her for someone else. It wasn’t a mistake, may be even she knew it… but why would she deny everything! I spent days wondering and justifying the situation, yet there were no answers. I was growing restless.

Soon this restlessness was turning to madness. An obsession crippled me; to have her was the only intendment! My contriving mind devised ideas and the most reliable was a potion! A ‘love potion’, that would make her fall in love with me.
I have seen my master making such potions and I knew they worked! But he would never give me one; so in his unknowing, I searched his scrolls for the formulae. Days and nights, turned to months but I did not give up. I wasn’t ready to abjure, not this time! My travail succored to my satisfaction; I had finally made the potion. I had learnt her location, and my vigilance laid the path for my ultimate scheme.

I decided to execute my plan on the next ‘Shanbeh’ night.

On this destined date when the sun had set, I waited for the night to grow. In the darkness of the night, when the city lights had grown dim and the population was deep in slumber; my careful and laconic steps marched towards her home. It wasn’t difficult to climb up the wall and enter the house through the window. I carefully scouted my way to her bedroom.

She was deep in sleep, but she wasn’t alone! The sight of another man in such proximity of her fueled my rage. I wanted to slit her husband’s throat; but it would be too big a risk… and I couldn’t afford this, jeopardizing my endeavor. All I had to do was sprinkle a few drops on her and leave a belonging of mine next to her. In the most cautious manner, I followed every known and learnt procedure related to this snare!  I breathed a deep sigh at the efficacious commencement of the episode. She looked so beautiful in her sleep, I couldn’t hold myself back. I pressed my lips against her gently; this was the first time I felt being in heaven…being in peace…being in the right place!

I wanted to watch her all night long; but I knew that my presence might nullify months of toil. I couldn’t kill the hope of ‘our’ union! Tomorrow morning she would be mine.
Everything went according to plan, and the only thing left was to wait for the first rays of the sun to fall on her. I waited in the attic of my master, for the sun to shine.

I could see the sun now, carefully rising from the blanket of clouds. Yes!…my dream was finally shaping up to reality. I closed my eyes to embrace the first ray of a new life. The moment the sunlight touched me, I felt this unreal sensation of burning. I was feeling hot and suddenly my body had started to sweat profusely. I was in flames… I screamed ran, rolled but it didn’t go away. It burnt me more; my skin was melting away…and I was chocking breathlessly..i was in pain, tremendous pain. I wanted to escape, but there seemed none.

Things were becoming dark… I couldn’t believe what was happening…did the potion backfire or was it the fatality of my mistake. It wasn’t meant to be… I wasn’t to die! I was losing my vision…my surroundings were disappearing into darkness…Did I see Zafar laughing… I couldn’t tell!

The last that I saw of this wraith before darkness took over was……. Astera’s smile!  

PS: All characters and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to any person/ event/ place in the present, past or future is(or would be)  purely coincidental. 

I did love you...

“I loved you, and I still do…but, you would never understand this; you low down bastard! I’m sorry things had to end the way they did, but how stupid of you…you never understood! Just stuck to your infantile ways of thoughts, why…God damn it, tell me why the fuck are you so stupid? I hate you and I loathe your existence!

Who gave you the authority to destroy everything? …Temme!

 I loved you…but what did you give me in return? Nothing, just a series of failed promises! Answer me, you ever grief stricken moron…tell me now…do I  still keep waiting for you? No, I cannot.

I have moved on, and its because you failed me. You are the one who flopped in your implications. You just said, but never proved your point…so I moved on!

My parents hate you, and more than them; I hate your existence. Don’t lie down here, answer me…answer my questions, you retarded son of a bitch ( I slapped him hard!).

 Tell me, why did you do this to me, why …just why…just to prove that you are a man?

(I spat on his face.)

Yeah, its convenient…sure it is, only for  you…you moron!

I left you, I told you…I didn’t love you anymore. Why did you not understand, that it was over…it was over cause you didn’t deserve me. You never deserved me; not now… not ever.

Hear me out, loud and clear… you are no more than just a bloody coward; yes, you are. Hear me loud..you are a bloody coward!

You know what, good you shot yourself; cause a coward like you just has no reason to live.

Listen to me…I know, you can hear me…God damn it, listen to me when I’m talking to you…you piece of dead shit.

Talk to me…talk to me now. What; all of a sudden Is it so difficult for you to open your mouth, and speak to me? Some big lover you are,eh? Yeah, you got a big manhood to satisfy the whores, haaan? Come on, get it up, get your fucking cock up… bastard! Come on, lets do it right here. Do me right now, again! What? Now I’m suddenly not good enough for you?

 Get up, and face me you scoundrel…talk to me. All this while, you wanted to talk to me right? I’m here, in front of you…(slapped hard) why are you quite now? Talk… oh you can’t. How can you, rather why would you? Its best, to just lie down and pretend to be dead! You are a coward, heard me right…you are a coward!  

What? Now you don’t find me sexy enough? You don’t want to kiss me? I dare you, rip my clothes apart and make love to me. If you don’t wanna do anything, why did you bring me here? Tell me Oni, why are you lying on the floor, stained in blood…temme why? Don’t, just lie down there all motionless…answer me, for god’s sake tell me why did you do this to me?

You destroyed me! Now, do you realize why I broke off from your clutches? You were a tyrant Oni, a monster…that’s all you are & that’s what you could ever be! Temme, how can a monster love a person? He can’t..he can never! You prison-ed me to satisfy your needs and nothing else.

You don’t care about anyone, do you? Tell me something honestly; does your family even matter to you? Naah…they don’t. How could I expect you to respect me, leave my family; when the only person who’s important to you is yourself and none!

Now I realize how vacuum like were your claims of courtship! I have seen you reports, all the psychiatric analysis and fancy stuff, but you know what? I don’t even pity you. Why would I? All you are, is a bundle of self absorbed narcissist! No one matters, to you, but yourself! Yeah, you are a nut case and nothing more.

You wanted to know, why I broke up with you? I will tell you. But do you have the guts, to hear the truth? Yeah…good, then hear up…listen carefully to every word that I say!

I fell out of love for you. Why?... cause you were never here when I needed you. Yes, you heard me right…you were never there for me.

I sat in a coffee shop all alone, talking to you on the phone, but where you there? No, you weren’t! Just your words; spinning a web of imagination all around me, tying me into the treachery of your absence. Sure you knew if I wanted a cappuccino or mocha, but why wouldn’t you? We had spent years together. The sad part is, how long it took for me to actually realize the real monster that you are!

 Aaah! Now the word “we” causes a ripple deep inside is it?

When will you accept, that all you are is but a loser! Your dad’s business is of no concern to you. You are just hiding away from your failures! You spineless prick, be man enough once in your life. Stop pretending to be dead, cause I know you are not. I know you can hear me, every word that I say…its audible to you(Slap on the face). Get up, talk to me you filthy scum bag.

 Now you don’t want to get up is it? Fine, lay there…stay there as a piece of dead meat, cause that is all that you mean to me. Nothing more!

U think you are Super Man? Let me give u the ground reality…you are just a filthy and pathetic zero, rather let me rephrase… you are nothing more than just a negligible insect of no prevalence. Reality is a hard fact to bite, but face it you piece of shit…cause that is what your reality is!

Grow up Oni! U and me, we are very different people. What we shared was beautiful, but it’s over now !

Please get up, come to your senses. You can’t win me back with this drama. It’s over! I’m really tired of this nonsense. Why can’t you just understand, I am over you!

I have moved on and I’m happy with my guy!

Let it go Oni. Stop fighting the reality of facts. I have a new guy, and I am happy with him. You are just my past and nothing more! So please, for the love of God be happy…try finding someone for yourself and just leave me alone. Don’t be quite, say something!”

“Who are you guys? What are you doing here?”

“ Ok! Listen it’s ok! Me and him, we just had a little fight, all is good so let us be!”

I didn’t understand why the people in khaki and white’s wrapped me in a piece of cloth and took me away.

Oni was still in the room. He was bleeding. He lay there, on the floor…motionless. I didn’t wanna leave…but they forced me out of the perimeter.

“ I swear Oni, I didn’t wanna leave you, never then…never now! But somehow I was forced to!”

They cleaned my wounds and injected me with anesthetics. It was strange; inside the van they kept asking me if I was ok. I told them I was fine, but you needed help. I knew you were hurt, and I wanted to help you! I told them, that you were bleeding and lay on the floor motionless. I begged them to help you but they would just not listen, as if it were all absurd!

I was Ok, but you were hurt. I saw you bleeding. Your white shirt was tainted red with blood stains. You were dying Oni, and I knew it.

 You stay put my love, I promise you I won’t let you die.

I was losing my senses, and my vision had started to blur; I guess what you did and the effect of the medication was finally taking its toll on me!

The last thing I remember were their words, “you will be fine!” when they carried me away in the white van with a blue siren.

I opened my eyes in a very different surrounding. You weren’t there, but Ma, Papa and Bhai were present. Oni, they had pinned your baby with numerous no. of needles that were connected to drips.

It wasn’t your fault, but the expression on my family’s face was tensed! They were worried.

I asked them, where were you and if you were ok? But they just grew angrier, but never answered. I was feeling weak, what did you do to me Oni?

The look of distress on Dads face, turned into a somber anger. He couldn’t hold back, he ranted out loud, “That bastard did this to you, and all your concern is about that man?”

“He’s dead, rightfully in the morgue.”

He was disturbed and it was obvious. The doctors and officials left the room on dad’s request.

“You are in a trauma kid. And I don’t want to pile on to this situation. I promise you hun, I and Ma..all are with you.” He hugged me and kissed my forehead. Ma was too much in tears and a state of shock to say a word.

When the visiting hours were over, I was left alone to myself. As I rested my head on the pillow to gather the thoughts of events, which lead to all of this…I remembered you!

You didn’t rape me, but why did you violate me and my honor? I allowed you to be close, but you why did you cross the boundaries?

I shivered as the horrors of the night spent, flashed in my mind. The dinner, the drive, our kiss and everything that followed…I saw it all coming back to me. May be the world can never forgive him and his misdeed, but I did. Deep down I knew, what i made him go through.

I tried to close my eyes, when his last words echoed …” I love you”.

May be we could have had another chance, only if he hadn’t pulled the trigger!


PS: All characters and incidents in the plot are fictitious. Any resemblance to a any person or situation in the past, present or future is purely coincidental. 

Terminal 2B

I always wondered to myself, as to how difficult announcing a fact could be? Every time I heard a loud speaker blast to its heightened glory, it amazed me! Was it only me, who couldn’t contemplate the noise or if it was the announcer who had no clue of how to speak? I wanted to tell them that It was just an announcement meant to convey information and no speed test! A higher no. of words per min. does not translate into better understanding of the speaker’s blabber neither it was a requisite to win them a candy. Yet, the announcer would talk… unaware of the fact that their words were extremely difficult to comprehend; doing their routine job/ duty.

The announcement on the Public Addressing System was hard to understand. Failing to make any sense out of this noise, I suited myself to a clearer format of info. The Electronic Display Board!

It was time for my security Check.

Mom, Dad had come to drop me, and as a part of Indian Airport see-off’s a few relatives had to necessarily tag along. My dear old man, tried hard to hide his tears… his little girl was going away…travelling to foreign shores. Mom had an unfamiliar unease of what I can understand as a commotion of pride and concern. Uncle and aunt, would have been more in real skin had they dropped the mask of joy; but then I’m sure they wouldn’t want to show the green-ness of their real thoughts. It didn’t matter, cause I really didn’t care how the world perceived me or my success. What mattered to me, were my parents and the fact that I had made them proud was all that counted.

 A middle class income often clips feathers of innocent dreams, but they gave in their best to never cut my flight. I was their pride… I was reality of every dream left unrealized. I couldn’t let them down…couldn’t ever. It killed us to know that I was finally going…going far away. And though I wish I could tell them that I was merely a call away, I knew I would be lying! Sure there is the Internet, VOIP and discounted calling rates…but seeing me fly so far away, made all this pointless. I could see it in their eyes, feel it in their arms…the pain of letting me go…letting me away from them. 

Dad hugged me tight, his eyes were moist. With a heavy voice, which trembled out of loosened control on authority…. he warned me against any possibility of romantic hook-ups. “Remember the purpose of your travel and don’t do anything that will put your family name in shame!” I couldn’t control my smile and My old man smirked! We both knew, how lame and unconvincing he sounded at his effort to put across something serious. He hugged me tighter, and kissed my forehead.

“’I’m proud of you my child. Do well… just never let your family or your pride at stake…no matter what!”

Mom was already in a heightened state of bellowing. Had dad not been understanding enough, a rhetorical scene of ‘overwhelming motherly emotions’ straight from a bollywood classic could have been re-shot now! The only difference right now, is it was all real…real people with real emotions. May be I would have shared a hearty laugh seeing this scene on 35mm, but it sank my heart at this moment. This unremitting spat of tears would have lingered timelessly, had Ma not taken out a jar of her home-made pickle from her bag. It was my favorite; though I could comprehend the hassles that waited on the other side of those Hi-Tech and peering, incredulous eyes…I was adroit to take it head on!

       

The adieu from my Uncle and Aunt was brief. A careful wrap of concern overlaid their good tempered covetous.

It wasn’t just my country that I was leaving; I allowed myself to furlough my family…memories…my way of life and above all a part of my existence. An endless stream of memories flashed In my mind as I walked towards the queue at the check points. I was at unease with my tears… it was finally time to leave!

Beyond the security rails, my family still were waiting… strange, how they would not leave till the point they could see me no more! They waved at me, blowing kisses and palms stretched in manners of blessings. It was hard to leave, but I knew I had to! I asked a million times at this moment if it was ‘Ok’ , not to Go…but alas! From deep within the only thing I heard was silence. I convinced myself with reasons obvious enough not to do or think anything stupid! My feet limped towards the Security Check!

The queue at the immigrations was long. It took a while for my turn to face this grumpy security personnel. Suspicion and disinterest was deeply engraved in his expressions. His acknowledgement was just so non-felt. Visa, Passport and documents…he scanned ‘em all like a machine. I was relieved when he accepted the documents with the seal of approval.

All as well, till the security scanner buzzed out loud! Soon an army of security officials were on the case. My Cabin bag was isolated and I was asked to be open it for a thorough inspection! Their incredulous faces looked even more annoyed at the incident. To me, their act was more like an hurried effort to clear my bags content rather than a security frisk!

“ What does the jar contain?”

“It’s a jar of homemade pickle. Its food!”

“Sorry lady, but we can’t allow this on board”

My heart sank at that moment. A fit of rage my bellowing state of passiveness. I didn’t put a fight, rather stood a ground on my conviction. I wanted that pickle and I was adamant about it! I would not allow this jar to end up in a can of disposables!

There was a heated exchange of words…and I’m sure the argument would have continued longer, but surprisingly it didn’t! They finally were convinced to allow its carriage, but they had to act in accordance to preserving their ego’s. The bastards almost scooped out half of the contents to sample its non toxic/ non lethal/ non explosive nature.

It took a while for me to repack the bag and reinstate my mother’s spill proof packing.

In the crowd of unknown faces, I found myself lost. I looked at the sea of people…some looked curious, some calm! Few tensed…and few relaxed! To every emotion my eyes recognized, there was an opposite feeling on someone else’s face. I stared at them blankly; didn’t know what I was feeling. ‘Restless’ could be a remote effort to describe the emptiness inside; I was scared! Scared of the uncertainty that awaited. I wanted to run back into my father’s arm, but I knew I couldn’t.

Deep inside I felt clueless. I didn’t want to leave! I wished to tell dad what and how I exactly felt, but that would be so unfair. It would be unforgiving to their efforts and to mine. I had toiled sleeplessly to earn my scholarship. It was my dream…everything that I wanted…everything I had aspired for. And now I was in the vortex of these mixed and contrasting feelings. I wanted this inner turmoil to just end! I needed to escape!

Thoughts of my childhood…school lunch breaks..college hang outs; my room…toys…belongings and even my neighborhood leisurely took their part to make me realize…that all of this, would only be a memory!

I shuffled through the playlist on my music player much faster than it coveted OS, but that didn’t prove to be of much aid. I reached for my bag, in a vain hope that the novel could put this unrest to ease. But disaster was just about to strike…and I was completely ignorant of its arrival!

As my fingers meandered in the bag; a wet-sticky sensation caught my surprise. Mother’s love had found its way to slip out of the jar and spread its affection to things that were near. The security officials intervention coupled with my in expertise to repack the lid in its air tight configuration, translated into this unprecedented Recipe of Disaster.

“God damn it! This is F****** not done, not at all!”

I threw my hands in the air, with a hope that some divine intervention from the blue would save me from this inconvenience and disgrace. I scavenged to rescue whatever I could save of my belongings. To my surprise, this catastrophe was well within the limits of an ‘accident’. Call me a ‘Drama Queen’ if u may, but it’s only natural to get hyper; and bedsides how was I to know what exactly would be magnitude of the damages!

The tee looked recognizable, even though it was well blotted with pickle oil. Any other garment in this condition would probably end up in the bin…but this Tee, was not just another garment!

      

“Ory” that’s what I called him. His name was difficult to pronounce and, could be said was unusual! ORREL SAKALOWSKAS….he was from Russia, and if I can remember correctly his origin was from a place called AK-DOVURAK.

    He sat on the berth opposite to mine. He was a tall man. Visibly fair, with long hair and an unshaven face. He looked rugged and it was hard to say if this rustic look was result of his hardships or his worries. I was travelling to Delhi to meet my cousins, while he was destined for Haridwar! I thought he was every inch a hippie! The way his attire hung…his demeanor, just cried out loud of being care free! He kept the co-passengers entailed with stories and incidents of his travel.

I have a strict “do not talk to strangers ” policy during travelling. I mostly keep myself occupied in the pages of a book or my music playlist. But this young age, tends to be curious…so I tend to casually lend an ear to make myself aware of the surrounding.

His narrations were dramatic. Even With his strange, rather unfamiliar accent and unclear pronunciation; he managed to spin a web of vivid imagination. Stories which could make an excellent documentary film, left his audience spell bound. At times, a loosely structured statement in the local lingo threw in an unprecedented cheer and applause. I couldn’t argue that his stories weren’t arresting…my best efforts to read through the pages of this newly purchased thriller or even stuffing ear phones to listen to John Mayer’s hit singles proved undoubtedly tepid!

To be honest, I was enjoying his narrations. Though my idiosyncrasy portrayed minimal interest; I couldn’t help to find myself being drawn in. it was hugely captivating.

This entire or surreal raptness was broken by a very harmless question.

“What is your name, dear lady?”

All eyes were pinned at me. It wasn’t really embarrassing, just a tad staggering.

“I’m ORREL…ORREL SAKALOWSKAS! Would you like to tell us your name or may be share a story with us?”

I guess he referred to the other passengers with the word ‘us’. Everyone was expecting a reply, but their elating expressions were let down by my phlegm to contribute or associate.

“I’m sorry, I got nothing interesting.” I returned to the page wedged between my fingers.

Dinner was served hours back; the lights were gradually being switched off in the compartment, as people unhurriedly spread their bed rolls and letting themselves enjoy a good night sleep.

Time seemed to pass at leisurely pace during travel. The author’s lines were much over shadowed by the stories of people and facts that this stranger narrated. The silence in the compartment made my thoughts ran along phases of good and heartbroken episodes of life.  Questions to which answers could never be found or the ones I gave up searching bereaved me!

I wasn’t sleepy…just in satiated!

“Can I share your seat for a while?” A familiarly unfamiliar accent broke my moment of solitude. It was the story teller.

“Sure.” I folded my legs to make room for him to sit.

“You never said your name, may I ask why?”

“No reason, just found it a little awkward!”

“Ok! Lets start again… my name is ORREL SAKALOWSKAS and I belong to AK-DOVARAK, RUSSIA”

“I’m Anya. Sorry didn’t get your name again!” (It was honestly difficult to pronounce such an unusual name!)

“Call me Ory…its easier. Do you know what your name means?”

I nodded with a NO.

“In Russian it means Grace!”

Some say looks are deceptive, they were right! This man had nothing strikingly captivating by his presence, but he had the gift of the gab! From casual topics of interest and intents in life, the conversation took us to the desolate alley’s of broken dreams. With the trek of time, windows which were locked up for years opened to set free the pain of moments gone by!

Ory was a traveler and it all began with his story of Love lost in memories of time. He said India was a mystical country and was convinced that it had the true healing power to assuage his inner turmoil. At first it sounded crazy and immature! But he was here, sitting right in front of me; so I couldn’t say it was imposturous. His pain was real, so were his stories of people and their lives…whom he met during his travel.   

He said he would continue to be a nomad till he found the ultimate truth. There were times, when his words just didn’t make any sense or rather I never could understand or relate to them…but I couldn’t agree less; that this man, had made me think about life beyond the ordinary realms of credence. May be for just that moment… I could see a new dimension to the meaning of living!

He believed that life was a journey to find the truth, and that every moment was carefully etched to teach a path. Everyone walked, to find the purpose of their existence. People came and they left only cause on overlap of paths. To him Love, hatred, social norms, deceit etc. were just landscapes/places on this journey of life, how long one stayed just made them behave in that manner.

He had an explanation for everything and surprising enough it all sounded convincingly true.

There was honesty in his words and though he spoke like a savant, to me he was indubitable!

It was unusual for me to open up to a stranger on a train journey; but surprisingly It didn’t feel wrong. Irrespective of my continuous self-conscious inhibitions, we kept awake all night… sharing thoughts, experiences and moments of our lives.

As the journey closed to its end, this stranger had become a friend.

At the Nizammudin station, we parted after exchanging our email-id. Though unsure of it, I promised to be in touch!

For the following few months we stayed in touch through mails. My inbox was filled with pictures from his travel and stories about the locals. I waited for his mails…waited for his elusive stories, and he never disappointed.

After a long time I felt happy from deep inside. I was finally coming out of the cocoon, in which I laid dormant for years…breathless from the pain of betrayal. His travelogue rejuvenated me!

There were times. When I doubted, what we shared was just an appreciated affection/attraction or we were falling in love with each other. I was scared of the uncertainties of consequences, but prayed to know if ‘we’ could ever be…the way I wanted ‘us’ to be! Though I held back my emotions; but deep inside… I wanted him to know everything that my heart felt.

We were two people, separated by unknown miles…but that never was a hindrance in sharing our everyday lives. We were in constant touch through mails; from my career plans to his punctured bike falls during uncharted expeditions….we knew every little detail of each other’s daily life. I was happy, but then there was this void I knew only he could fill up…cause he was more than just a friend. He had become my guide and philosopher as well…my true companion!

But every story doesn’t have a fairy tale ending, and neither did mine. Things were changing…and changing at unannounced pace! What used to be a daily affair, gradually turned into several weeks of wait. Mails were few and gradually becoming less personal. He said everything was OK and at times he just got too busy, I knew that the sand castle was slowly being washed away.

Filling in forms and applications…running to the banks for educational loans kept me busy most of the time, but on the inside ran an unrest…unnerving questions, haunting an unending plot of unknown!

This absence of his had now become a habit, so it didn’t hurt much… I guess! Life moved at its pace, and uncertainty regarding ORY was brushed to the sidelines as I geared up for my masters in the State University of Michigan! Life from this point had more important goals than just dreaming and bellowing.

One fine morning I received a mail from a woman named Clara. It had a subject written “Urgent” in bold. I thought it would be from the University, but it wasn’t. The mail read:

“Dear Anya,

I am sorry to state that Mr. ORREL SAKALOWSKAS is no more with us. He passed away on 18^th May after his prolonged illness. I am sorry for your loss and my heartfelt condolences remain with you. May his soul Rest In Peace.

Please find, the attached letter he wrote to you.

Regards,

Clara Jones

Nurse, Moscow Institute Of Cancer Research”

I couldn’t believe what I just read. It seemed time had just stopped ticking! I didn’t want to believe it…I mean It could be a joke? I broke down crying.

The attachment to the mail was a scanned copy of his letter.

He apologized for not being able to be in touch. He spoke about his family and their worries regarding his illness. Wrote about life during the time we weren’t in touch. He wanted to live a few more years, to travel a little more and fulfill some of his aspirations…. The last line read about his dying desire to meet me one last time!

I couldn’t take it any more…I ran to the bed, covered my face in a pillow and cried like a little  girl. I felt so helpless. I wanted to undo everything…his illness…his death…his unfulfilled desires; why am I so powerless…I just can’t do anything. I could I forgive myself for hating him… how could I belittle myself by not believing his words! I wished to see him and tell him that he was mean and selfish…but I couldn’t! he was gone…gone forever and I had no choice but to live with this reality.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I washed the oil stains off the orange tee! It was delivered in a DHL box with a birthday card…and yes…it was my B’day gift from Ory! The big smiley on it still wears a huge smile and say’s…” I’M WITH U..Don’t ever stop smiling.”

Ory wasn’t lame neither is his tee! He made me smile and taught me to relive again. Through him, I truly believe that Life is all the reason to live for and I could never thank him enough to be part of my journey! It took time for me to accept that I would never receive his mails again, but I never stopped believing that he ever left…he was with me…always!

Boarding the aircraft through gate no. 5A on Terminal B I remembered one argument of his. He never liked the word ‘terminal’…he insisted that it be replaced by ‘howdy’, which essentially meant welcome! 

As i sat on my seat and buckled up my belt i Said 'howdy new life!' 

He was crazy beyond doubt, but then he was my best pal and I missed him! 

Note: All characters and incidents in the plot are fictional. Any resemblance to any person-living or dead or any situation-either in the past, present or future is purely co-incidental