A slice of silence
Aashika climbed into the rickety three wheeling rickshaw, fearing a downpour. How she dreaded the whimsical monsoon sky in Mumbai! She drew in a deep, relaxing breath and she leaned a little back to watch Mumbai night flashing past in a dizzy haze. Honking cars and buses in a blinkered race, people rushing to catch their evening trains in the sweaty and humid evening air. She rested her aching back against the seat and closed her eyes. The drone of the auto-rickshaw becoming the punctuation marks in her stream of consciousness, each pothole an ungrammatical full stop.
Drops of sweat dried as the rickshaw raced forward, only to grow thick again at stubborn traffic lights that they encountered again and again like a painful memory. What had she done to her life? Pensive moments were restricted to the evening rickshaw ride or the bathroom. Morning rides to office were wasted in small talk with her husband who gave her a lift so she could save the fare and enjoy the air conditioned comfort. What a price! She remembered the rides together they both used to look forward to during their courtship. Now she preferred the rickshaw. She didn’t have to pretend to be interested and involved.
At seventeen Aashika had sworn, that, ugly or beautiful, easy or difficult, loved or hated, her life would be anything but mundane and meaningless. Another seventeen years and she was ashamed of what she had become – busy, bored and used to it. Yet another face in the crowd, who sometimes wished she was more, but didn’t do anything to change it. Only a tired ache arose now and then, like now, as she saw life passing by as in a movie clip. … Where was the climax in her story? A flat chested plot that wouldn’t excite anybody, she thought regretfully.
The greatest excitement in the whole of last month was that message in her face book inbox.
Can we meet some time? For old times sake.
Fancy popping into her life after a decade and a half. She didn’t know if she was sorry getting in touch with him again. She was surprised he’d traced her, being a successful, busy man now. They hadn’t been in touch all these years, but she’d caught him in an interview on T.V once. Her heart had gasped. She remembered their days together in college. Old flames become silent embers. You never know what a whiff of wind can do sometimes.
She needed clarity, needed to talk to someone who would help her to understand her own heart. She dialed on her mobile,
“Hi Henna! Can I come over tomorrow? I need to talk.”
“Oh hi! Ya sure! Come today, what are you doing now?” her friend sounded happy to hear from her.
Aashika envied her. Some women have all the time and the luck! Unmarried at thirty-five, a promising career, living independently, time for herself, without a care in the world – not even a boy friend! If this isn’t freedom, she thought, what is!
“I can’t come today,” she sounded irritable without realizing it, “I have to take Mansi to the doctor, she’s been complaining of stomach ache. Tomorrow, if you are free, may be we can go out or something. Devang will be out of station, so I can bring Mansi with me in the evening. It’s half day at office tomorrow.”
“Ya sure, whatever! See you then, just give a buzz a while before you land up!”
*****
She quickly lowered her car window to buy flowers for her friend from the street children who looked through the windows at every major traffic light in Mumbai. Her own daughter was busy playing safely with her Barbie doll in the back seat of the car. But she didn’t buy the bouquet of red or yellow or pink roses they were trying sell, instead she picked up several strings of jasmine flowers which women usually braid in their hair. Henna, she knew, would get a high from them and hang them all over the house for the fragrance. It’s good to have crazy friends, she thought.
“Where the hell have you been? It’s been six months I’ve moved into this ‘happening’ city and you haven’t even shown me around” Henna gave her a hug.
“You don’t realize how it’s like to be a householder!” she defended herself, sighing at the same time.
Mansi smiled at her showing her toothless grin. This lady in pajamas looked like a grown up but somehow didn’t feel like one… She started surveying the apartment with her curious eyes. Suitably well behaved for the first five minutes, she then sprouted wings and started sailing all over, finally settling in front of Cartoon Network.
“I suppose you want your plain, boring tea. Just put the water to boil, I’m coming in a minute – just a quick shower.”
“You mean I make the tea!”
“You are welcome!!” Henna said closing the bathroom door behind her, and breaking into a song immediately. So much for hospitality Aashika thought!
They both sat on the floor. It was cool, clean and smooth. There was a brief silence with nothing but the cup of tea in their hand and mind.
“How is it all going?” Henna asked.
“I wish I knew!” sighed Aashika in a way that made Henna look up.
“What? Is this a pre-mature mid life crisis coming on?” she asked half serious.
“May be. Why don’t you predict something? You are into astrology and all that jazz aren’t you?”
“You’re not serious are you?”
“Why not? Where’s the crystal ball, my dear witch?””
“Well I don’t mind honing my skills on you!”
Henna gulped her tea down and disappeared into the other room. Aashika checked on her daughter and found her sleeping peacefully on the sofa while Shin-Chan continued his antics in the idiot box.
When she returned Henna was wearing a string of clear, shinning quartz crystal around her neck, and the fresh jasmine flower strings all around, and a deck of tarot cards stretched in front of her. Aashika knew Henna was interested in all kinds of weird things, and she was ready for some psychic entertainment if nothing else.
“Now sit in front of me and just breathe deeply for a minute. Do you have a question in mind?”
“Umm, I can’t… well, I want to know –”
“No, don’t say it aloud. Just think of the question and relax.”
Aashika was quite relaxed, she didn’t take this kind of stuff seriously, but enjoyed it with a pinch of salt.
“Pick a card.”
Aashika did and was asked to pick to more. To her these were just strange pictures and their interpretation was both mysterious and entertaining.
“I can see a juncture where light and dark, fire and water, evil and good, past and future meet.”
Henna drew in a deep breath to say more when Aashika’s mobile phone rang, rudely puncturing the session with an unwelcome ringtone.
“What? …How? Oh! …The entire block? I’ll come, of course. I’m coming ma!”
Aashika was looking worried over the phone.
“There’s a problem back home. There’s been a short circuit in the electricity pole and a fire of some sort, now the entire block is submerged in darkness. I’ll have to rush home, you know how my mother in law panics. I’d better reach before my sister in law does. So much for – nevermind!”
When Aashika reached her apartment there was a huddle of women on the ground. Women were grumbling as their husbands returned from their offices. The lift had been rendered dysfunctional, so people on the top floors were ready to tear anyone’s hair out. Aashika was thankful that she was on the fifth floor and not the fifteenth.
“Aashika there’s been a major problem with the electricity circuit, they got the fire under control but will take three days to change the wires. They’ve all been burnt up. Mr. Sharma’s wall is totally blackened you know. Thankfully everyone is safe.” Her sister in law had arrived to rescue them!
“I thought I’d take ma and baba with me since climbing up and down will be a task with the lifts out of bound. I’ll take Ma for the physiotherapy sessions for the whole of next week, I think you and Mansi should also come, there’s no point staying here.”
Her daughter was delighted at the opportunity, it all seemed like a script from a movie, but Aashika decided to stay back in case her husband came back in the night. Though Ma was anxious about her staying alone in the dark, they didn’t pressurize her to come along. If Devang did come back tonight he wouldn’t stay over at her daughter’s. He didn’t get along with her husband. Men!
By the time Aashika reached the fifth floor her knee was throbbing with pain, it felt as if a wasp had just stung her. She sat on the sofa, breathing hard, drops of sweat on the forehead. It was dark inside, and quiet. She opened the window. The swirling silence in the room and oozed out of the open window melting into the confused orchestra of traffic. The city was lit with scattered, moving embers of light. The local train adding an extra peppering to the familiar hum drum city sounds. The darkness was soothing, she didn’t turn on the emergency light wanting to save it for later, leaving the house totally dark. Devang would have been irritated by this. It was on a night like this that Akash had taken her to his apartment in the evening in college. She’d sneaked out of her hostel, giggling all the way with Akash. They’d made Maggie noodles at his apartment by the time the current failed. They would have made love, had his flat mates not returned. That night when she returned to her hostel, she burnt with a longing she’d not felt before. Where was desire now? Her heart was a dry tap.
A message beeped on the mobile:
Will return tomorrow night. Busy now. Tc.
Devang’s messages were like him to the point, focused. He was like that in everything, even in bed.
She was glad he wasn’t coming tonight, though she felt guilty for feeling like that. He was a good husband really. But she needed more than a good husband to be happy somehow. What? She’d wanted to share this frustrating fog in her heart with her friend when she was called away.
Devang had told her just before going,
“The reason a man has never been able to figure out what women want is because women themselves haven’t been able to figure it out for themselves!”
He was right to some extent.
Devang always knew what he felt and did something about it. But her own heart was like a tangled ball of wool, a confusion of knots. She’d never asked him, if he’d had a one night stand during his numerous tours. She was afraid, he might say yes. Would she if she was in his place? She read Akash’s message he’d sent her in the morning on her mobile, wishing she was in college again. It was easier then, your emotions decided which way you had to go. Fullstop. You had all the leisure later to repent. Why was he interested in meeting her after the collapse of his marriage? An old friend to open your heart to… or more? She would have to meet him to find out.
Her mobile had three missed calls, all from Akash. She had agreed to meet him but hadn’t fixed a time. She dialed his number.
“Hi Akash! There’s been a bit of a problem…”
She told him about the episode a little hesitantly.
“So, you’re alone and in the dark now? May be this is the perfect time for a ghost story!” he chuckled, suddenly sounding like a teenager.
He was the ghost, she wanted to tell him.
“Shall I come now? ...Or are you afraid?”
Yes, she wanted to say, she was afraid! Darkness was dangerous, it brought out all kinds of phantoms from the corners of your mind.
“Don’t be silly, of course you can come, if you can climb five floors of unlit stairs!”
Akash told himself his heart was pounding because of the steep climb. He paused after the first flight and closed his eyes. How did she look fifteen years, a husband and a child later? Her voice sounded deeper, sadder.
He fumbled for the door bell, then realised that it wouldn’t work. He knocked slowly. When she opened the door, they just gazed, looking as best as they could, tracing the lines a decade and a half had made on their faces.
“Thank you,” she said, smelling the roses in the dim light.
His face had lost the clean shaven innocence, he had a French beard now, and a history. She had specs and the creases on her face had deepened, where there would be wrinkles a few years from now. She moved slower now, her clumsy chirpiness had metamorphosed. He wasn’t sure he liked that.
They made some awkward conversation in the beginning.
“Do you want to some tea?”
“You’ll make tea in this dim light?” he asked her, “May be you should make some Maggie noodles.”
He looked at her as he said it. Did she remember? Had they reached for each other that night, had those rowdy roommates of his not returned, perhaps their story would have been different.
“So, how are you?” he asked slowly, knowing she would understand from where it came.
“I’m okay I guess, I have a lovely daughter and a protective husband.”
Can he protect you from me, Akash wanted to ask her, or more importantly, from yourself? He asked her,
“Do you ever wish your life was different?”
The water started to boil, she threw in tea leaves and covered the pan, allowing the colour and aroma to infuse the water. He leaned against the fridge, watching her silhouette, irritated by the mystery the darkness had created. He wanted to take a good close look at her. To hear her eyes. It had been a long, long time since they’d shared real words.
“I don’t know. Are we ever satisfied?’
“I wasn’t. May be that’s why my marriage collapsed.”
She looked at him. Did they want to go there? The past was a treacherous swamp, you never knew where the next step would lead. He sighed. She decided to be bold,
“What happened Akash?”
“She couldn’t conceive and once that was discovered, everything crumbled. I suggested that we adopt, but she wasn’t ready. It seemed that the marriage became meaningless. It’s as if the boat had lost its only sail.”
Would she and Devang have been together if it hadn’t for their daughter? Before she could let her mind dwell on such dangerous considerations, she was distracted. She heard music, then realised it was from Akash’s cell phone. An old favourite, she hadn’t heard for years. Today was a strange day.
Aashika brought in the cups of tea.
“You remember how we used to drink coke in college?”
Aashika burst out laughing! She remembered alright!
“You were so mad at me once, because it spilled all over your new ‘tantra’ t-shirt.”
“You’d jerked me deliberately!”
“No, I’d just burped and laughed, but you never believed me!”
“Let’s try it now, but be careful, this not cold coke. If the tea falls, we’ll burn.”
They very carefully put their arms through each others while holding their cup, bending it carefully at the elbows. The trick was they had to raise and bring down their cups so that they could sip from their cups. They also had to be aware of the difference of the size and lengths of their arms. They managed a sip and then Aashika withdrew.
“Where did you learn this exercise?”
“Management school. Only we applied it differently!” he laughed.
She looked mysterious, enticing, but out of his reach. Aashika felt her arm tingling. She drew in a deep breath.
“Are you still afraid of the dark?” he asked her.
“I guess I’m afraid of what comes up when it’s dark,”
“You mean like ghosts?” he said mischievously.
“Ghosts of your own mind at least,” she was serious, “darkness is a kind of torch light, it makes you notice those hidden corners that daylight doesn’t. It throws up things you didn’t know existed, or least wish you didn’t. That’s why we are so afraid of darkness. We want to run away from ourselves, hoping that the neat life that daylight brings is all that is.”
“But that daylight neatness is just a part of our total reality, perhaps even the tip of the iceberg. You do have a point. Since when did you get so wise?”
“Oh just now, when the lights went off!” she laughed.
He looked at her, swept by wave of love. He lifted his hand to reach out to her but drew it back, the way mole retreats into his hole. He was afraid. Would she have him? The possibility of a yes scared him more than that of a no.
Aashika looked at his face. The muscles were taut, reigns pulled on leaping desires. What was going on in his mind? With eyes closed, almost as if he was in a confession chamber, he drew in a deep breath and let the words out like a sigh.
“It’s a huge challenge to be human,” he said getting up to go, “if you consider the practical light of day to be real, the darkness surprises you. If you follow the cues of the night, the day dawns with its harsh reality.”
The present moment pulsated with possibilities of what could be. The mind steaming with invisible vapour. Aashika realized that their past lingered in his mind too. They both needed to be free of their ghosts, to find a light that would chase them away. When he got up to leave, she wanted to pull him back by the hand, to hold him, the one who had made her heart ripple as nobody else ever did. But she didn’t. She let him out, leaving an unfinished story hanging in the air. He left with one foot pulling him back, as the other drew him away. He was afraid of the ashes after the fire.
The room was empty again, and dark. She sat there, a little bewildered, his touch still quivering on her arm. What if she did let him into her life, into her heart, her arms again? It was not the morality that challenged her, it was the reality. If this were to happen, would it be replacing one illusion with another? Would her heart be a heart of darkness, would ghosts slash her mind? ‘The other is hell’ she’d read somewhere. An illusion if not hell. Expecting something from the other that led to some kind of darkness. She didn’t want a lover, she realized then. It was freedom she was seeking, freedom from the strings that her heart was tied to. An eternal quest to find an inner freedom… Such a tall order!
A message flashed on her mobile, it was from her friend Henna,
Did you check your purse? Surprise!
Aashika let her hand feel through her purse till she felt a cylindrical object covered in cellophane paper. She took it out. It was a perfumed candle with a tagged message which she couldn’t read in the dark. She struck a match, after lighting the candle, she held up the message to the light, “Appo deepo bhava (Be your own light) - The Buddha”.
The flame burnt steadily and the air was suffused with a sweet, light fragrance.
- Harvinder Kaur
(published in New Woman - August 2010)
Aashika climbed into the rickety three wheeling rickshaw, fearing a downpour. How she dreaded the whimsical monsoon sky in Mumbai! She drew in a deep, relaxing breath and she leaned a little back to watch Mumbai night flashing past in a dizzy haze. Honking cars and buses in a blinkered race, people rushing to catch their evening trains in the sweaty and humid evening air. She rested her aching back against the seat and closed her eyes. The drone of the auto-rickshaw becoming the punctuation marks in her stream of consciousness, each pothole an ungrammatical full stop.
Drops of sweat dried as the rickshaw raced forward, only to grow thick again at stubborn traffic lights that they encountered again and again like a painful memory. What had she done to her life? Pensive moments were restricted to the evening rickshaw ride or the bathroom. Morning rides to office were wasted in small talk with her husband who gave her a lift so she could save the fare and enjoy the air conditioned comfort. What a price! She remembered the rides together they both used to look forward to during their courtship. Now she preferred the rickshaw. She didn’t have to pretend to be interested and involved.
At seventeen Aashika had sworn, that, ugly or beautiful, easy or difficult, loved or hated, her life would be anything but mundane and meaningless. Another seventeen years and she was ashamed of what she had become – busy, bored and used to it. Yet another face in the crowd, who sometimes wished she was more, but didn’t do anything to change it. Only a tired ache arose now and then, like now, as she saw life passing by as in a movie clip. … Where was the climax in her story? A flat chested plot that wouldn’t excite anybody, she thought regretfully.
The greatest excitement in the whole of last month was that message in her face book inbox.
Can we meet some time? For old times sake.
Fancy popping into her life after a decade and a half. She didn’t know if she was sorry getting in touch with him again. She was surprised he’d traced her, being a successful, busy man now. They hadn’t been in touch all these years, but she’d caught him in an interview on T.V once. Her heart had gasped. She remembered their days together in college. Old flames become silent embers. You never know what a whiff of wind can do sometimes.
She needed clarity, needed to talk to someone who would help her to understand her own heart. She dialed on her mobile,
“Hi Henna! Can I come over tomorrow? I need to talk.”
“Oh hi! Ya sure! Come today, what are you doing now?” her friend sounded happy to hear from her.
Aashika envied her. Some women have all the time and the luck! Unmarried at thirty-five, a promising career, living independently, time for herself, without a care in the world – not even a boy friend! If this isn’t freedom, she thought, what is!
“I can’t come today,” she sounded irritable without realizing it, “I have to take Mansi to the doctor, she’s been complaining of stomach ache. Tomorrow, if you are free, may be we can go out or something. Devang will be out of station, so I can bring Mansi with me in the evening. It’s half day at office tomorrow.”
“Ya sure, whatever! See you then, just give a buzz a while before you land up!”
*****
She quickly lowered her car window to buy flowers for her friend from the street children who looked through the windows at every major traffic light in Mumbai. Her own daughter was busy playing safely with her Barbie doll in the back seat of the car. But she didn’t buy the bouquet of red or yellow or pink roses they were trying sell, instead she picked up several strings of jasmine flowers which women usually braid in their hair. Henna, she knew, would get a high from them and hang them all over the house for the fragrance. It’s good to have crazy friends, she thought.
“Where the hell have you been? It’s been six months I’ve moved into this ‘happening’ city and you haven’t even shown me around” Henna gave her a hug.
“You don’t realize how it’s like to be a householder!” she defended herself, sighing at the same time.
Mansi smiled at her showing her toothless grin. This lady in pajamas looked like a grown up but somehow didn’t feel like one… She started surveying the apartment with her curious eyes. Suitably well behaved for the first five minutes, she then sprouted wings and started sailing all over, finally settling in front of Cartoon Network.
“I suppose you want your plain, boring tea. Just put the water to boil, I’m coming in a minute – just a quick shower.”
“You mean I make the tea!”
“You are welcome!!” Henna said closing the bathroom door behind her, and breaking into a song immediately. So much for hospitality Aashika thought!
They both sat on the floor. It was cool, clean and smooth. There was a brief silence with nothing but the cup of tea in their hand and mind.
“How is it all going?” Henna asked.
“I wish I knew!” sighed Aashika in a way that made Henna look up.
“What? Is this a pre-mature mid life crisis coming on?” she asked half serious.
“May be. Why don’t you predict something? You are into astrology and all that jazz aren’t you?”
“You’re not serious are you?”
“Why not? Where’s the crystal ball, my dear witch?””
“Well I don’t mind honing my skills on you!”
Henna gulped her tea down and disappeared into the other room. Aashika checked on her daughter and found her sleeping peacefully on the sofa while Shin-Chan continued his antics in the idiot box.
When she returned Henna was wearing a string of clear, shinning quartz crystal around her neck, and the fresh jasmine flower strings all around, and a deck of tarot cards stretched in front of her. Aashika knew Henna was interested in all kinds of weird things, and she was ready for some psychic entertainment if nothing else.
“Now sit in front of me and just breathe deeply for a minute. Do you have a question in mind?”
“Umm, I can’t… well, I want to know –”
“No, don’t say it aloud. Just think of the question and relax.”
Aashika was quite relaxed, she didn’t take this kind of stuff seriously, but enjoyed it with a pinch of salt.
“Pick a card.”
Aashika did and was asked to pick to more. To her these were just strange pictures and their interpretation was both mysterious and entertaining.
“I can see a juncture where light and dark, fire and water, evil and good, past and future meet.”
Henna drew in a deep breath to say more when Aashika’s mobile phone rang, rudely puncturing the session with an unwelcome ringtone.
“What? …How? Oh! …The entire block? I’ll come, of course. I’m coming ma!”
Aashika was looking worried over the phone.
“There’s a problem back home. There’s been a short circuit in the electricity pole and a fire of some sort, now the entire block is submerged in darkness. I’ll have to rush home, you know how my mother in law panics. I’d better reach before my sister in law does. So much for – nevermind!”
When Aashika reached her apartment there was a huddle of women on the ground. Women were grumbling as their husbands returned from their offices. The lift had been rendered dysfunctional, so people on the top floors were ready to tear anyone’s hair out. Aashika was thankful that she was on the fifth floor and not the fifteenth.
“Aashika there’s been a major problem with the electricity circuit, they got the fire under control but will take three days to change the wires. They’ve all been burnt up. Mr. Sharma’s wall is totally blackened you know. Thankfully everyone is safe.” Her sister in law had arrived to rescue them!
“I thought I’d take ma and baba with me since climbing up and down will be a task with the lifts out of bound. I’ll take Ma for the physiotherapy sessions for the whole of next week, I think you and Mansi should also come, there’s no point staying here.”
Her daughter was delighted at the opportunity, it all seemed like a script from a movie, but Aashika decided to stay back in case her husband came back in the night. Though Ma was anxious about her staying alone in the dark, they didn’t pressurize her to come along. If Devang did come back tonight he wouldn’t stay over at her daughter’s. He didn’t get along with her husband. Men!
By the time Aashika reached the fifth floor her knee was throbbing with pain, it felt as if a wasp had just stung her. She sat on the sofa, breathing hard, drops of sweat on the forehead. It was dark inside, and quiet. She opened the window. The swirling silence in the room and oozed out of the open window melting into the confused orchestra of traffic. The city was lit with scattered, moving embers of light. The local train adding an extra peppering to the familiar hum drum city sounds. The darkness was soothing, she didn’t turn on the emergency light wanting to save it for later, leaving the house totally dark. Devang would have been irritated by this. It was on a night like this that Akash had taken her to his apartment in the evening in college. She’d sneaked out of her hostel, giggling all the way with Akash. They’d made Maggie noodles at his apartment by the time the current failed. They would have made love, had his flat mates not returned. That night when she returned to her hostel, she burnt with a longing she’d not felt before. Where was desire now? Her heart was a dry tap.
A message beeped on the mobile:
Will return tomorrow night. Busy now. Tc.
Devang’s messages were like him to the point, focused. He was like that in everything, even in bed.
She was glad he wasn’t coming tonight, though she felt guilty for feeling like that. He was a good husband really. But she needed more than a good husband to be happy somehow. What? She’d wanted to share this frustrating fog in her heart with her friend when she was called away.
Devang had told her just before going,
“The reason a man has never been able to figure out what women want is because women themselves haven’t been able to figure it out for themselves!”
He was right to some extent.
Devang always knew what he felt and did something about it. But her own heart was like a tangled ball of wool, a confusion of knots. She’d never asked him, if he’d had a one night stand during his numerous tours. She was afraid, he might say yes. Would she if she was in his place? She read Akash’s message he’d sent her in the morning on her mobile, wishing she was in college again. It was easier then, your emotions decided which way you had to go. Fullstop. You had all the leisure later to repent. Why was he interested in meeting her after the collapse of his marriage? An old friend to open your heart to… or more? She would have to meet him to find out.
Her mobile had three missed calls, all from Akash. She had agreed to meet him but hadn’t fixed a time. She dialed his number.
“Hi Akash! There’s been a bit of a problem…”
She told him about the episode a little hesitantly.
“So, you’re alone and in the dark now? May be this is the perfect time for a ghost story!” he chuckled, suddenly sounding like a teenager.
He was the ghost, she wanted to tell him.
“Shall I come now? ...Or are you afraid?”
Yes, she wanted to say, she was afraid! Darkness was dangerous, it brought out all kinds of phantoms from the corners of your mind.
“Don’t be silly, of course you can come, if you can climb five floors of unlit stairs!”
Akash told himself his heart was pounding because of the steep climb. He paused after the first flight and closed his eyes. How did she look fifteen years, a husband and a child later? Her voice sounded deeper, sadder.
He fumbled for the door bell, then realised that it wouldn’t work. He knocked slowly. When she opened the door, they just gazed, looking as best as they could, tracing the lines a decade and a half had made on their faces.
“Thank you,” she said, smelling the roses in the dim light.
His face had lost the clean shaven innocence, he had a French beard now, and a history. She had specs and the creases on her face had deepened, where there would be wrinkles a few years from now. She moved slower now, her clumsy chirpiness had metamorphosed. He wasn’t sure he liked that.
They made some awkward conversation in the beginning.
“Do you want to some tea?”
“You’ll make tea in this dim light?” he asked her, “May be you should make some Maggie noodles.”
He looked at her as he said it. Did she remember? Had they reached for each other that night, had those rowdy roommates of his not returned, perhaps their story would have been different.
“So, how are you?” he asked slowly, knowing she would understand from where it came.
“I’m okay I guess, I have a lovely daughter and a protective husband.”
Can he protect you from me, Akash wanted to ask her, or more importantly, from yourself? He asked her,
“Do you ever wish your life was different?”
The water started to boil, she threw in tea leaves and covered the pan, allowing the colour and aroma to infuse the water. He leaned against the fridge, watching her silhouette, irritated by the mystery the darkness had created. He wanted to take a good close look at her. To hear her eyes. It had been a long, long time since they’d shared real words.
“I don’t know. Are we ever satisfied?’
“I wasn’t. May be that’s why my marriage collapsed.”
She looked at him. Did they want to go there? The past was a treacherous swamp, you never knew where the next step would lead. He sighed. She decided to be bold,
“What happened Akash?”
“She couldn’t conceive and once that was discovered, everything crumbled. I suggested that we adopt, but she wasn’t ready. It seemed that the marriage became meaningless. It’s as if the boat had lost its only sail.”
Would she and Devang have been together if it hadn’t for their daughter? Before she could let her mind dwell on such dangerous considerations, she was distracted. She heard music, then realised it was from Akash’s cell phone. An old favourite, she hadn’t heard for years. Today was a strange day.
Aashika brought in the cups of tea.
“You remember how we used to drink coke in college?”
Aashika burst out laughing! She remembered alright!
“You were so mad at me once, because it spilled all over your new ‘tantra’ t-shirt.”
“You’d jerked me deliberately!”
“No, I’d just burped and laughed, but you never believed me!”
“Let’s try it now, but be careful, this not cold coke. If the tea falls, we’ll burn.”
They very carefully put their arms through each others while holding their cup, bending it carefully at the elbows. The trick was they had to raise and bring down their cups so that they could sip from their cups. They also had to be aware of the difference of the size and lengths of their arms. They managed a sip and then Aashika withdrew.
“Where did you learn this exercise?”
“Management school. Only we applied it differently!” he laughed.
She looked mysterious, enticing, but out of his reach. Aashika felt her arm tingling. She drew in a deep breath.
“Are you still afraid of the dark?” he asked her.
“I guess I’m afraid of what comes up when it’s dark,”
“You mean like ghosts?” he said mischievously.
“Ghosts of your own mind at least,” she was serious, “darkness is a kind of torch light, it makes you notice those hidden corners that daylight doesn’t. It throws up things you didn’t know existed, or least wish you didn’t. That’s why we are so afraid of darkness. We want to run away from ourselves, hoping that the neat life that daylight brings is all that is.”
“But that daylight neatness is just a part of our total reality, perhaps even the tip of the iceberg. You do have a point. Since when did you get so wise?”
“Oh just now, when the lights went off!” she laughed.
He looked at her, swept by wave of love. He lifted his hand to reach out to her but drew it back, the way mole retreats into his hole. He was afraid. Would she have him? The possibility of a yes scared him more than that of a no.
Aashika looked at his face. The muscles were taut, reigns pulled on leaping desires. What was going on in his mind? With eyes closed, almost as if he was in a confession chamber, he drew in a deep breath and let the words out like a sigh.
“It’s a huge challenge to be human,” he said getting up to go, “if you consider the practical light of day to be real, the darkness surprises you. If you follow the cues of the night, the day dawns with its harsh reality.”
The present moment pulsated with possibilities of what could be. The mind steaming with invisible vapour. Aashika realized that their past lingered in his mind too. They both needed to be free of their ghosts, to find a light that would chase them away. When he got up to leave, she wanted to pull him back by the hand, to hold him, the one who had made her heart ripple as nobody else ever did. But she didn’t. She let him out, leaving an unfinished story hanging in the air. He left with one foot pulling him back, as the other drew him away. He was afraid of the ashes after the fire.
The room was empty again, and dark. She sat there, a little bewildered, his touch still quivering on her arm. What if she did let him into her life, into her heart, her arms again? It was not the morality that challenged her, it was the reality. If this were to happen, would it be replacing one illusion with another? Would her heart be a heart of darkness, would ghosts slash her mind? ‘The other is hell’ she’d read somewhere. An illusion if not hell. Expecting something from the other that led to some kind of darkness. She didn’t want a lover, she realized then. It was freedom she was seeking, freedom from the strings that her heart was tied to. An eternal quest to find an inner freedom… Such a tall order!
A message flashed on her mobile, it was from her friend Henna,
Did you check your purse? Surprise!
Aashika let her hand feel through her purse till she felt a cylindrical object covered in cellophane paper. She took it out. It was a perfumed candle with a tagged message which she couldn’t read in the dark. She struck a match, after lighting the candle, she held up the message to the light, “Appo deepo bhava (Be your own light) - The Buddha”.
The flame burnt steadily and the air was suffused with a sweet, light fragrance.
- Harvinder Kaur
(published in New Woman - August 2010)