In a new light...

Bombay’s a funny old place. It’s the city of dreams and if you’re at it long enough, it’ll give you what you want. Standing by the sea, after what seemed like an eternity, he gazed back at all that had been. He’d gotten where he’d wanted to be, in the corner office, in a penthouse, in an obscene car…even he had to admit, he’d already achieved his dream. The endless hours and the tiresome corporate lobbies had probably been worth it. He’d survived and survived well, he’d always been a survivor.
Any other day and he’d probably have been smiling smug with his thoughts and speeding away from there. Not today. Today he was preoccupied with gawking at her. She stood by the parapet staring into the sunset as the sea-breeze played softly with her hair. Arms folded, she held a stoic gaze that seemed to ward off even the pesky hawkers who hadn’t thought twice about pestering him thrice in the time he’d been standing here, staring after her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stood as still for as long since he’d moved to Bombay. There was no buzzing Blackberry around to disturb him today, no urgent emails that’d tare his gaze away. He’d even watched on unperturbed as the cops had towed his car away with his prized material possessions locked within. Right at this moment, all he could think of was her. Rooted a distance away, he stood bewitched by her unflinching, uncompromising figure, calm and defiant against the last rays of sunlight fighting their way over the water to reach her.
He couldn’t fathom why he hadn’t seen her this way in 10 years.
He thought back to the night before and fiddled with the pen in his hand. The divorce papers would be the last bits of paper he’d be signing for some time to come.
Bombay’s a funny old place, it gives you what you want and then shows you what you should’ve wanted all along….




(An inspired story...the orignal is here)

Maybe its Just Lust

Albern reached out to his dresser to turn-off the alarm just before it went off. He hadn’t needed it to wake him up today, he hadn’t slept all night as he lay awake thinking about Adele. He hadn’t known her for too long and yet, in just a few weeks, she’d already left him longing sleeplessly for her…as if the sleepless nights she gave when she was around in his apartment weren’t bad enough! He needed to gather himself and find the confident, successful architect that designed majestic buildings at Rosewood Scapes. Adele was supposed to be a fling, not the whirlwind affair that left him tied in knots as it was turning out to be. As he put on his running shoes, he knew he’d have to make today’s run a lot longer and a lot harder, running from any situation was always easy after all!


Adele was the consultant architect from Sybarite UK, the London based architectural firm that was collaborating with Rosewood on one of the most ambitious skyscrapers to dot NYC’s landscape yet. Albern was certain it’d be a monument, not just another tall sky-scraper to hang in New York’s already crowded skyline and if he wasn’t sure before, the ideas that had begun flowing when Adele had joined, reaffirmed his belief. His own creative juices seemed to flow copiously in her presence, even grown men can have such childish exuberance when they want to make an impression. Albern was responsible for how the building would look from the outside and he had plans of the grandest of scales and had spent many a hour designing in his mind every overlay and every little carving that would go up on the building’s arches, no matter how obscure. Adele was responsible for maximizing the space within Albern’s grand building and working out the best structural design to compliment his grandiose plans. And compliment him well she did, both in the design room and outside. They seemed perfect for each other.

He still remembered and played the scene when he first met her. He’d walked in late for the meeting ‘Tardy American’ she’d reprimanded him, ‘Fashionably late,’ he defended later. He apologized and made his way to his seat making acquaintance with the rest of the Sybarite team as he went along. He fumbled for words though when he reached Adele and it had taken Adele’s reprimand to get his tongue to retort with something intelligent…in hindsight though, he had to admit, it wasn’t quite all that intelligent. He seemed to have been completely mesmerized by an aura of confidence that surrounded her and told her of this as he held her close one night. ‘Bah! That was pure lust. I have that effect on most men,’ she’d said. It was always difficult to get her mushy.

Adele was beautiful but her enigma seemed to overshadow her beauty for Albern. She was confident, witty, charming, intelligent and playful when needed but there was always a touch of mystery to her that drew him even closer to her. Most women had been more than willing to talk about their past, their dreams, their emotions and just about anything after a couple of nights but with her it had been different. She seemed to only talk about work and utter gossip always keeping a part of her secluded from him. He’d try getting through to her, to get under her skin, so to speak but had always been greeted by a cheerful laugh and before he knew it, she’d hijack the topic to something totally different. In the weeks she used to spend in New York, Albern felt like he was the center of her world and yet, when she was back in London, she’d disappear like she couldn’t have cared less. Perhaps she was married he’d first thought but her finger bore no signs of a wedding ring nor did her phone keep buzzing whilst she was in New York, a husband would’ve called often, Albern reasoned. After all, who wouldn’t if they were married to Adele? She’d let slip a name on occasion, Marcus. An old flame she’d told him and quickly brushed aside the subject as always. His heart had felt a deep pang the few times it’d happened and he’d had to remind himself that this was supposed to be fun, a stress buster. But he’d felt drawn even more to her every time. He’d once made the mistake of telling her he was on the verge of falling in love with her when he lay spent beside her but she’d playfully chided that it was just pure lust and seemed to seal his lips with hers, eager to avoid the subject. He’d thought about ending it between them that night but he couldn’t get himself to do it. After all, the sex was incredible and he reasoned perhaps, it was lust that carried him on.

He was almost at the end of his run as he turned back onto his block and running hadn’t done him much good. There were still cobwebs in his head and he’d spent even more time thinking about her. As he entered his apartment and saw the clock hit 9, he realized Adele would’ve landed in Heathrow. He checked his phone to see a few missed calls from her and a few messages with sweet nothings in them. And just as always, that’d be the all that he’d hear from her till she got back the next week. He’d have to settle for the longing sleepless nights till then.

Let Bygones be Bygones...

Men are funny beings, they sure have life figured out all wrong... Or at least, its true about me. It's been a long journey only to come back to square one, a twelve year voyage I think. I dont think I'll ever be able to face the 18 year old me, at least not in my current avatar. A crisp white shirt, albeit sleeves rolled up...a slim black tie, albeit the knot hanging by the second button, black cotton pants over shiny formal shoes and a very expensive watch, which perhaps is the only remaining trait of the wise-old me, still worn on my right wrist. It was something no one could figure why. Some assumed I was ambidextrous, some thought I was weird but I guess I never wanted to grow up, be a part of the crowd and give up on those insipid, immature dreams. At least I'd like to believe so...especially today!

The car parked by the wayside and me splayed on the bonnet must sure evoke a few eyebrows. I dont think they see weirdos like me everyday. It's not a deserted backyard road after all. Nor is it your ordinary car. Yeah, life's been good. Made a lotta money, seen a lotta places, done a lotta things and yet, at 30, here, now, I feel outdone by the wisdom of an 18 year old. So what if it was me? I was supposed to get smarter, not stupider. Bah! Rat race...so what if you're winning? There are no prizes in store! The prizes were elsewhere, not in the friggin race. Took me long enough to realize...again. I still wonder how that imbecile 18 year old could've figured it all out before I did...years earlier than I did for myself!

And to think, it all began in her pursuit, the MBA, the lucrative job and somewhere along the way, got so absorbed in the race, I forgot I was chasing her, not the green. Sigh...

It was 10 years ago, right here that I last saw her. 10 years ago that I promised I was only doing this to pay off the loan. 10 years ago that I promised her, I'd never stop writing...10 years ago, when I last did write...but at least, 10 years later, here I am now, ready to put it all behind. 10 years later, I am more than a little rusty but I think, it still is a decent rhyme. I'm hoping she'll still like it, that without a word of appreciation, with just her little smile, she'll still file it in that green college file of mine...but most of all, 10 years later, I'm hoping more than anything else, that when I shout her name from under her window here, she'll pop her head out, give me the fake binocular search with her fingers curled and come running down to meet me...

But then again, it has been 10 years. I wonder if I should call her name out. I jump off the bonnet, look at my keys and then glance at her window and I wonder, if perhaps, I should let bygones be bygones...

Life Moves On...

It's drizzling slightly, makes the weather romantic. Needless to say, if you're taking a walk by the promenade, you reminisce some old memories. I'm supposed to meet an old friend today and I'm awash with her thoughts right now. It's been a long time since I've met her...well, not really, maybe a month but compared to the days gone by when I met her thrice a day, it seems like an eternity.
It's ironic how I've wanted this for myself...guess I am weird but I'd thought I'd needed to experience the travails of the human, 9-5, white-collared life. Idiot that I am. I've managed to push my friends away, learnt to long for weekends and to count every second from 9 to 5.30. Take her for example. I've managed to reach a point where I only speak to her once in 10 days. I still remember so fondly how we used to text each every 10 minutes...even silly things like 'Just got into the ric...' Why, you ask? I dont know...puppy love, I guess...but then, this is so much better, isnt it? Grown ups, respecting each other's space, still close as ever despite the infrequency of contact.
In a while, dreams, memories and reality all culminate into one when she steps out of the car...still breathtakingly beautiful, still making me weak in the knees and still melting me with her touch...it takes a while for me to gather my senses and utter the first few words...but thats alright, she seems to be bursting with chatter, lots to catch up on after all! Soon enough we're moving back and forth with the conversation, a lotta flirting, a lotta sarcasm and a lotta good natured banter...the fondness, is still evident.
I smile to myself, assured, that despite everything, we're still close as ever...that we're still more than best friends.
As we're sitting together, she checks her cell. I'm admiring her beautifully painted fingernails when I half-accidentally, read the text-
'Just got dropped near the bridge...catching a ric now. How's your evening coming along?'
And then my comfortable illusions are shattered and I realize grimly, life moves on...

Kanjur Waiting

A typical day, begins at 5 a.m. when her number is dialed and after about 7 or 8 calls, she finally cuts one of the calls to let it be known that she's awake. Then slumber takes over again until quarter to seven when the maid rings the bell and it's time to finally wake up. It's the same old, same old for me everyday, I despise work-life...I'm sure I'm meant for bigger and better things but then I figure, so is the thought for every other mortal caught in the drudgery of 9-5. The trudge to the basin is the hardest part of the day and when the face in the mirror stares back, it's just as hard to explain the status quo. ''Sheesh, women!''


Stepping into the shower and then after a good three minutes of self convincing to get over the disdain for cold water, finally under it, it feels like the movies. A slow bath spent humming slow songs with dreams and memories of her. ''Darned love sickness!''

Sid's still in the bath and the clock's inching closer to 7.32 so looks like I'm gonna have to ditch him again today. Between a friend and an hour's sleep on the journey to VT, I know which one I'm gonna choose! I walk down into the parking lot and look at my bike, she's due a visit to the mechanic's. I get astride and set my foot comfortably on the missing footrest and as always, think back to the days when I'd pick her up and she'd tell me to shift behind. Women shouldn't be allowed to drive, the phantom footrest is proof enough, innit? ''Sigh! Those were the days!''

As the train draws into the platform, finally the madness and the rush of Bombay take over. The dreamy, romantic me takes a backseat somewhere as the more human parts take over and I climb onto the moving train and secure my window seat. The day has finally begun. The rest of the hour long journey from Vashi is spent as it always is, sleeping with absolutely no thoughts running through my head.

I'm an Investment Banker apparently and in the lucrative field of debt broking. It's a cyclical business and I have managed to step into it while it's headed to rock-bottom. Needless to say, work isnt as exciting as it might have been and I hurtle through the rest of the day rather mechanically. It's a race everyday between my sanity and the clock to see who can outrun the other to reach 5.30...fortunately enough, the clock's won everyday till now. But sanity ain't too far behind, maybe one of these days it'll win and run out of my head...maybe then I'll do something really stupid. But until then, I shut my PC, pack my bags and leave smiling like everyone else around me.

It's time to board the train again. Music in my ears and I doze off for a while. An hour later, I get off and walk over to the end of the bridge, sit on the side rails with a book in my hand and alert her of my presence, ''Kanjur Waiting...'' it's the same text everyday. She arrives half an hour later, sits next to me for a while and I finish the chapter I'm reading. Conversation soon fills up the silence held for so long and we're talking about our day, about the turmoils at hand and our own sense of wonder about life and it's ability to surprise us with something new everyday, despite the mundaneness of our schedules.

It isnt too long before we're talking about our futures again. She's been on a break with her ex for the past year and keeps wondering about what she is going to do when she does meet him on the 1st of Jan. I wanna tell her that she shouldn't be with him but for some reason, like every other day, I hold my silence and listen to her think out aloud.

We get off at Currey Road and it's time to say good-bye for the day. I open my mouth to say ''Good night...'' but end up saying something to the order of ''Will you marry me?'' She looks at me, with a smile first and then with tears in her eyes. Without another word, she turns around and walks home. I stare after her for a while and then turn around to make the long journey back home.

The next day begins the same way, 6 calls before she finally cuts my call. I force myself through the rest of the day and sanity still loses the race to 5.30. I reach Kanjur again, wondering if she'll come by today. As ever, I sit here on the railings, book in my hand and send her the text ''Kanjur Waiting...''

Khadakwasla - A Short Story

Some of you have read this before...some, haven't. So here it is...something I wrote a few months ago...

I love sitting at this lake, my feet dipping ankle deep in the cool of the water whilst I sit on this rock here…I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve sat here, sometimes with her…but mostly, by myself…

Being unemployed has it’s advantages…it’s a Wednesday afternoon after all! Heck, if I may be bold enough, (and you know I am!) I have yet to come across any disadvantages, ummm, except perhaps the fact that you’re perennially broke but if you have friends that are willing to pay for your coffees and parents who are willing to support you, (if only for the time being!) life’s pretty much as good as it gets…ok, so you need to learn to swallow a little bit of your foolish pride (of which I seem to have none, which only makes the task a lot simpler!) On a philosophical note though, you should never be afraid of asking yourself awkward questions and should always be prepared for unwanted answers…life is a lot sweeter when you can live with the bitter truth. Hence, you will notice, I do not say ‘I’m in between jobs.’ I’m always, ‘unemployed!’ Once past this hurdle, you’re all set to have a gala time!

For starters, no one but you have whole and sole control of your two prized possessions, your mind and your time. You can actually choose to spend them for and with whoever and whatever you choose! With all the time in the world on your hand and your mind completely unoccupied by the worries plaguing the rest of humanity, you can explore the philosophical realm at length and on your own terms! Please do not learn philosophy from books, what the wise men have passed on to us through their written words notwithstanding. Explore yourself and you shall be enlightened! Think about it, no one ever attained enlightenment from a book, the enlightened ones have been the folks who have chosen to seek the answers to their questions within themselves and found God dwelling within them! Why then should we be subject to what others think? Why be subject to what someone else has thought or does think? We’re intelligent beings capable of independent thoughts aren’t we? So why read what others have gathered, from still others??? (Or at least that was my line of reasoning for not studying back in college…hasn’t been appreciated by the rest of the human race though…I’m still outta work!)

Such detailed discussions with the self, are helped a lot when you have scenic locations to drive down to…and some coffee to help you along…whilst broke, having a frugal bike that still churns out 90ks to a liter, not only helps reach the destination but also saves enough for you to be able to catch good cheap coffee at Durga on the way! (Durga btw, is an extremely good café/snack bar in Poona…cold coffee is a specialty and at 12 bucks is a steal…although at one point it was 7 bucks but those times are long gone! They also have the best poha with coconut chutney served in the mornings, the missal pav is heavenly, the bhurji pav a blessing and the pav bhaji is among the best around…ok, I’m making myself hungry now, so I’m gonna stop describing the food!)

“Yeah! The coffee was heavenly, wasn’t it? I miss it a lot sometimes! Right, go on then, you were gonna start describing Khadakwasla…”

“Hey! For starters, stop interrupting me…no wait, how the heck did you know I was gonna start about Khadakwasla…no wait, that’s not the point, how the heck did you get here? You’re supposed to be in office and in Bombay!”

“Hehehe…am I now? Well, here I am though! I can’t believe you still spend hours at Khadak…you really were serious all those years ago when you told me you were gonna keep coming back here for as long as you live! No wonder then, they’re your favorite lines aren’t they?

‘…Sitting by a stream, feet dipped in,

Twinkling my toes, send the water-a-ripplin…’

Every time you send a poem with those lines, I can picture you sitting here exactly like this…sitting on this rock, feet in the shallow of the water, toes twinkling…”

“How could you not? We’ve spent many a day here haven’t we? Endless conversations that were always cut short by the sun that seemed to be in a hurry to get home…”

“It was the charm of the water…we both loved it a lot. It’s a shame Poona didn’t have a beach!”

“I think two years in Bombay made up for that!”

“Sort of I guess…but somehow, I loved Khadak a lot more…no people around, clear waters, cleaner waters, and all the luscious green hills all around us! But that doesn’t mean I love Poona more than Bombay. I’m still a Mumbaikar to the core!”

“Hehehe…I’ll take your word for it! Although you gotta admit, I almost made a Punekar out of you! I think Khadak had the biggest role to play, didn’t it? It is a magical place!”

“You’re mad though, you know that, don’t you? Every chance you got, we’d land up here by the lake sitting on this rock…What did you love so much about this place? The scenery? The water? Come to think of it, you never really told me why you got me here! 7 years and you always managed to dodge the question! And don’t you dare give me your philosophy on ‘Life’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.’ The journey to Khadak is pretty nondescript…”

“Hehehe…well, it was never about the journey or even Khadak itself…My journey reached it’s destination the minute I’d pick you up. Where we’d go then, I never did give a thought…”

My phone rings just then and I hear the 'Goo Goo Dolls' croon “…I’d give up forever to touch you…” that can’t be right…you’re right here, why are you calling me then? I answer anyways…

“Hi! What are you doing?”

“Hey! I’d just come for a drive to Khadak…”

“Hehehe…now there’s a surprise! Lemme guess,

‘…sitting by the stream, my feet dipping in,

I twinkle my toes, send the water-a-ripplin…’

Say, you never did tell me why we landed up in Khadak at every opportunity you got!”

I tell you, it’s pretty weird how she always manages to do that…it’s like she’s in my head…well, I guess she is, isn’t she? It’s like a part of her lives within me…

Did the conversation actually go the same way it just did in my head? Obviously not…7 years I’ve dodged the question, I’m not gonna slip up now…a half an hour later, she hangs up. Something moves me to write this –

I close my eyes
Hoping to see you in a dream,
But I don’t
All I see is me by a stream...

I sit on the bank
With my feet dipping in,
I twinkle my toes
Send the water-a-ripplin...

I thought this was where things happened
By my will,
When just a visit
Could all my emptiness fill...

But I feel the same
Even though I’m here,
The solitude’s a little too heavy
For me to bear...

I wish so much that you’d find me
And end my strife,
So that tomorrow I may wake up
To the first day, of the rest of my life…

Should I send it to her? Hmmm…probably not today…

KEYS

                Honest to God, I hate mornings, more so when they come after a night of frenzied chats with old friends gone abroad to pursue higher education. These buggers go off to places like Brighton, Munich, California, etc. and then keep you up all night with their fascinating exploits at either the pubs, the gay parades or the BMW factory! (Yeah, for the uninformed, Brighton has an annual gay parade!) So after haggling and bargaining, (with friends would you believe? And for what? Photographs? Not like I am asking them to give me their girlfriends pictures in compromising positions damn it, just a few odd pics of the gay parade maybe, some of the wild Californian parties and a lot of the BMW factory pics!) I manage to lay my hands on some fabulous pics of the BMW to show-off to my classmates in the morning class. (Which by the way, is about 2 hours from when I finally get to sleep!) Arghh… 9:15 a.m. and I am still descending on the staircase at my flat.

                I reach my bike, not that I am in any particular rush but I still curse the ass who parked his bike so close to mine, it would take a miracle to squeeze it out. I search for my keys and as I do, I remember I am not carrying my identity card. With a huff and a gruff, I trudge my way to the apartment and back. I reach my 10-odd year old bike, push the key in, turn the ignition, kick-start the bike, pull the key out lest it should fall out of the lock which by now is little more than a cursory object to pacify my insecure mind against any possible theft. (Honestly though, even I know that if I left my keys in the bike, the most desperate of thieves would not consider stealing it.) I straddle on to it, rev up the little motor that still has quite a bit of pep left in it and gun my way to college at break-neck speeds. I arrive about half an hour late for the lecture and instead of disturbing the poor lecturer, who I am certain is well engrossed in teaching whatever important economic theory it is that he has planned out for the day, I decide to study the demand-supply characteristics of the college food-chain. (In other words, grab a sandwich at the canteen!)

                As I sit down to bite into the sandwich, I suddenly hear a thump of a bag on a plastic chair next to me. (I could’ve sworn the chairs were wooden when I sat in!) I hear a cheery voice greet me with

‘Good morning! Late again aren’t we both?’

‘Nirlajjam Sadasukhi!’ is what I hear myself respond with.

I think I have a smug smile on my face. I don’t turn around to see who it is, heck, if I had a pen in hand, I’d probably detail the face so vividly in words, you’d know every single feature! I look at what’s in front of me and I see a green marble table with a steel jug and 4 glasses kept in an aluminium tray (made by one of our class chaps as a part of the mechanical workshop assignment…cheapskate college authorities!) a red plastic bottle that houses pumpkin sauce under the garb of carrying tomato sauce, a blue plastic plate with a wada-pav and groundnut and garlic chutney…wait a minute…didn’t I order a grilled sandwich?

                I look up and see a 30-something guy pull a chair in front of me and this chair is metallic-wooden. I shake my head and bring myself back into the present. I need a few cups of coffee…for a moment there, I had turned the clock back by about 4 years! I get up and get myself a shot of coffee, finish my sandwich and after a few polite words with my senior classmate and putting up with his painful sarcasm about college, academics, college politics (and heaven knows what else, I am too darned zapped to even know where I am right now…it’s worse than a hangover!) I excuse myself as I see someone my age walk in to the canteen.

                At 10:30 a.m. the day finally begins and the rest of the day is pretty much spent the way it always is, attending lectures with half my mind elsewhere and the other half engrossed in penning down another one of my legendary works in rhyme. As always, by some miracle or the other, the day draws to an end and I go down to the hangout for some smokes and some chat with my pals. After languishing about doing absolutely no good work, I finally get astride my bike again to head home when I realize I don’t have the keys to my bike. I curse myself and look in my bag, on the bike, walk half-way to college in search of it before finally accepting the fact that it cannot be found again.

‘That’s the 6^th time you’ve lost the keys…what are you gonna do now? I’m not pushing the bike anywhere, you’re on your own.’ I hear her say teasingly.

‘Hey, take it easy will ya? I got this covered, I know this baby inside out, I’ll have it started in no time! We’ll go get a spare made, you have one set of keys with you anyways…’ I hear myself say.

‘Will you ever learn to be a little careful?’

‘Nirlajjam Sadasukhi, wouldn’t you agree?’

                That’s when it hits me, “YOU” have the spare. I haven’t seen you in a while now. Strengthening myself against you…against not having you here with me…against staying away from you. And now I might have to undo all that by seeing you again. I think it’s been 6 years since I gave you my set of spare keys…the original keys. 6 years is too long to expect you to have still have them, to expect even you to have kept them carefully through all those transfers from one hostel to another in my city and back to your home…this city of dreams that now we share. Funny how long destiny has been playing this out for us.

                I pull out my phone and think twice, long and hard, before calling you.

‘Hey! Long time! How are you?’

‘Ah! I thought you’d forgotten me! I’m good, you tell me, ssup with you?’

‘Ummm…I am in a bit of a quandary actually. Before you laugh, I’ve lost the keys to my bike again.’

‘Wow! After a gap of 3 years! That’s impressive!’ It’s supposed to be a sarcastic remark but your voice doesn’t suggest so.

 I sigh.

‘Is there a remote possibility that you still have the spare I gave you years ago? I mean I’d understand if you didn’t have it…it’s been 6 long years after all!’

‘I’m not certain but I should have it at home. I’m at my aunt’s place for dinner, can I check and call you back in a couple of hours? You can swing by my place and pick it up if you’d like.’

‘That would be after 11! You sure your folks would be ok with that? Your dad would kill me…hmmm…perhaps not but he’d make me wait up and have dinner, which considering you’ll be cooking up would be worse!’

‘I can cook, pretty well…but I won’t for you since your majesty has such fine tastes!’

(Arghhh! What am I doing? Why am I such a moron? I love her cooking! Invite me for dinner…please! I’d give an arm and a leg for that right now!)

‘Ahh! Well then, get back home and let me know if you find the keys, I’ll drop by if you do. If that’s alright with your folks. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.’

‘It’s alright, don’t worry. It’s you after all…’

‘Thank you!’

                I end the call. What was that last part supposed to mean? After all that’s happened and all that she’s done? Or am I just reading too much into it?

                Anyways, an hour later, she does call and I do go down to her place to pick up the keys. I do get offered dinner and desserts too, they’re delicious. I do end up talking to her and her folks for more than an hour after dinner and have the most fulfilling time I have had in a long, long time.

                I thank her for the evening and more so for the keys. She walks me out and as we stand under her house catching on how we’ve been, all she can talk about is him. I wish she wouldn’t…it still hurts. Should I tell her? Probably not. Love is strange. You can love someone a lot, sometimes so much that you know you should part ways. I finally take leave.

‘Make a spare and return these to me will you?’ she says as I walk into the distance.

                As I walk back to the station, I get an sms from her. It reads –

“That’s the 6^th time you’ve lost the keys.

Will you ever learn to be a little careful?”

                I laugh to myself…the irony isn’t lost on me. I reply with those two little words we hold dear…

“Nirlajjam Sadasukhi!”

Running Away

I am driving through long winding roads along the banks of a lake, a canopy of trees over-head and an intermittent view of the lake through the trees as they part away occasionally to reveal the presence of water on the other side. The road is in good shape especially for this season when the sky is overcast and the rains can hit really hard though by their own standards, the rains have been scanty this year. The road is almost devoid of contact with any moving life as the only view I have is of fleeting birds up on the trees as my bike whirrs through the forest. I reckon I am the only human who has come to these parts in a long time, rather surprising for a place so beautiful and only a stone’s throw away from the city. I suppose it’s a little too beautiful and borders on the edge of the eerie, enough to inspire tales of highway masquerades and the occasional ghost stories. I haven’t been to these parts in quite some time myself.
It’s funny, no matter how much I had promised myself, I did let myself get caught up with life. The day I chose to work over-time because I had nothing to look forward to in the rest of the day, was also the day I typed in my resignation letter. After a long time of having immersed myself in work to run away from the pain and heartache, I finally was able to think that evening. When I did, I realized I was becoming every bit the person I had promised myself I wouldn’t be all those years ago. I still remember that late night excursion with my roomies in the by-lanes of Bombay, when I had told them of my elaborate plans in life, ones that did not involve a 9-5 work schedule, ones that did not involve agreeing with the boss just because he was the boss and ones that did not involve a heart-ache. Ironic as my life has been, I have only had myself to blame. Like the trees that now pass me by swiftly, I have always been running away just as swiftly from everyone that ever tried coming close. The first time, the second…always running away for reasons completely unknown to me. Or maybe just reasons that I didn’t want to see. I guess I keep forgetting love isn’t about perfection but about imperfection. I close my eyes and all those wonderful images come rushing back…those times spent over coffee, those first days of courtship, that feeling that surged through my insides when I first saw her, that smile, those eyes. ~sigh~
And THUD! I open my eyes and I can see the sky through the canopy above. There’s a weaver bird’s nest above that looks beautiful even from the bottom. I notice a few squirrels scurrying around. My eyes close again. Once again I am floating through those images of her. That mad time back in college when I couldn’t find a friendship band good enough, so I went and bought her a watch! Those mad long drives that were a result of long boring days in class. Those late night talks over the phone. Sneaking her out of the hostel for coffee. Sneaking into the hostel to wish her on her birthday. And despite it all, walking different ways at the end of it cause we were too scared of ruining it all by coming too close. Funny how neither of us got anywhere without each other. Funny how I was still running away from her on these winding roads…where once we first came together. I open my eyes again and I’m in a car, it looks like my own backseat…yeah, I can see the chocolates I keep on the dashboard too! There's a familiar looking watch hanging from the mirror on the dash...but I still have my jacket on and I am not driving… I close my eyes again.
I wake up in a white room. The ceiling seems too clean to be mine. I see a saline bottle on a stand. I feel the IV pinned into me. I almost close my eyes again but I can feel a familiar squeeze of my hand…I turn around and I see her smiling at me. I return the squeeze, smile back at her and close my eyes again. I can’t run away this time…

It's my first attempt at a short story...be gentle!