Summer Day

The summer heat beat down on the ramshackle old car as it moved along the road, squeaking and squealing every step of the way. The driver, a woman, had come a long way and was now looking left and right seeming to be searching for something. She brought the car to a halt, took a deep breath and wished that the heat would subside. Taking a sip of water from the bottle beside her, she scanned the area around her from behind the dark glasses she wore. She was certainly nearing civilization after travelling through deserted roads for hours, but this was not the end of the journey. She was just looking for the turn she needed to make in her journey, trying to make sure that she didn’t make a mistake. There seemed to be no road signs to guide her, it looked like she was hopelessly lost. There was no other option but to ask someone for help. She got out of the car, wondering which of the handful of houses to approach to ask for directions. She was suddenly filled with despair for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. As she hesitated, as if in answer to a prayer, there was a deep rumbling in the distance and the skies were suddenly overcast with dark clouds. A thunderstorm approached, driving away the heat and replacing it with cool winds and the first drops of rain. As the smell of wet earth engulfed her, she smiled. It didn’t matter anymore that she was lost, she was just content to enjoy the moment and trust that just like there was a way to cool down a summer’s day, there would also be a way to find her way.

The Call

The phone rings, wakes her from a deep slumber. She reaches across to the nightstand and checks the readout on the caller ID, what could he possibly want at this time of the night? She considers just ignoring it, pretending not to have heard but she cannot lie to herself even if she could to him. She rises from the bed at the same time as she answers the phone, with just a hint of sleep mixed into the concern in her voice as she asks him what the matter is. ‘Nothing’ apparently is the matter, he just wants to talk and she was the first person he could think of. She smiles and tells him she’s all ears and wanders across to the window and throws it wide open. As the cool night breeze blows in, the voice at the other end of the line begins to tell her of his day and because he is a born storyteller, it immediately becomes exciting and comes alive in front of her eyes as he describes the things that have happened. He finishes and asks about her day, she takes a minute to collect her thoughts and hesitantly proceeds to tell him the bare bones of incidents. He interrupts her with questions about everything until she has made a story of it too, something she finds she is unable to do usually. They both laugh about it; the hour has been well spent. Goodbyes are exchanged and there is a gentle click as he disconnects the phone. She continues to stand still for a few more moments before stepping back from the window, shutting the panes and falling back into bed, falling asleep once again, this time with a smile on her face.

Rigmarole [Vol II]

(continued from… http://garbbled.wordpress.com/2012/04/01/rigmarole-vol-i/)

…creature called Twerp. He was a strange one, kept to himself, rarely speaking to others and when he did it was only about rainbows. The colours (though he couldn’t name them), the beauty (though he couldn’t describe it) and the sheer miracle of it. In the land where he lived, people had long given up trying to understand him (they had never seen a rainbow you see), leaving him alone to his mutterings. It wasn’t unusual for mothers to pull their children closer or fathers to shut their doors when they heard him approaching. It wasn’t that he meant any harm, that was just how he was, and as the years went on, he became more and more of a recluse, seldom seen around until one day he had a dream. He dreamt that the land was in danger and that he would be the one to save all its people from calamity. The next day, he went to the king’s court and asked for an audience. Having been granted one, he approached the regent and blurted out, “The land is in danger, we must all leave”. The entire court full of people burst out laughing and he was asked to be on his way. There was only one person who did not laugh, who believed in him and who had also been the only one to ever have listened to his stories of the rainbows. His name was Half-Pint and he decided to follow Twerp when he left the courthouse. Together they set off the next day for that land far far away where the rainbows met the earth and where they would be saved from disaster…

(to be continued…http://aishwaryathapa.blogspot.in/2012/04/rigmarole-vol-iii.html)

Like A Sunrise…

What was so amazing about the falling rain? That all lovers claimed that the monsoons were the most romantic season of the year? He hated it, the rain, the water logging, the slush, the endless traffic jams, the humidity and the stench that enveloped the entire city like a hangman’s noose. Accidentally stepping into a puddle and losing his footing, he cursed the universe in general and trudged along, still a long way from home thanks to the auto rickshaw breaking down. As if on cue, he spotted a couple walking along hand in hand blissfully getting drenched in the downpour and seeming not to have a care in the world. Disgusted, he changed direction and decided to pay a visit to an old friend, she would certainly cheer him up he thought and quickened his pace as much as his heavy backpack and umbrella would allow. Reaching his destination, he rang the doorbell and waited. She opened the door, took one look at his face and just silently waited for him to stomp in and flop down on the sofa, he would take care to discard the dripping shoes at the door since that was the only thing she was particular about but that was about it. He sat down, laid his head back and closed his eyes and just felt grateful that she would understand without him having said a word that he had had a crappy day and was in no mood to discuss it, she would pry it out of him anyway but that would be later. He listened to the sounds of her moving about in the kitchen and knew instinctively that the food cooking would be delicious, and she would somehow have managed to make enough for two. He was content for the moment to just sit there and let the tiredness of the day drain out of him. She on her part continued with her chores without paying him any mind, she knew him only too well to recognize the ‘had a bad day, don’t want to talk about it’ face so she let him be, for now that is. He was as predictable as an alarm clock which meant that in exactly 20 minutes he would be recharged, restless and getting in her way, asking about the food. She smiled at the thought, the man still behaved like a child sometimes, and added more ingredients to the sizzling pan. The 20 minutes having duly passed, he decided he had rested enough and rose to come and stand at the kitchen doorway. Perfect timing, she thought, just as the pressure cooker gave its final whistle, and asked him if he was hungry. The slow nod told her that today must have been more tiring than most, she would take extra care to see that he cheered up before he left. They sat down to dinner and the silence with bits of conversation thrown in was comforting, these were old friends, there was no need for the pomp and show that was reserved for the outside world. Eventually, he wasn’t quite sure how, he got around to telling her about his day and the incidents that led to him arriving at her doorstep. She suppressed a smile, he would always do that, insist on explaining why he came over, it wasn’t often but it wasn’t a rare spectacle either but he would always explain himself as if in a court of law. He for his part knew that she was listening to everything and in her head disagreeing with quite a few things but wouldn’t say a word till he had had his say. Then they would clear away the dishes and sit down on the sofa and talk about everything under the sun. From interesting bits of conversation, to news about mutual friends, to world politics and business, to books and music and then back again to how the day had been. By and by, he would get up to leave when they would exchange a hug and he would thank her for making his day better and she would just smile tell him to sleep well so that it would be a better day tomorrow. In all that time if he ever even fleetingly thought of her as anything more than just a friend he dismissed it as impossible. She was a romantic, and he a pragmatist, they would never be right for each other. At the time he wasn’t to know that one day they would find that they were perfect for each other for just those reasons, that they wouldn’t be able to imagine life without one another. It had been like watching a sunrise, the journey from darkness to light was so gradual that you didn’t notice the change until it was broad daylight. He took in a deep breath as he watched the sun rise from the east and turning back towards the house, saw her standing at the door smiling at him and he knew that she too was thinking back to those days of shared laughter and conversations late into the night. He walked towards her and back into the house, the same place where their story had once begun…

The Story

You walk down the road, you purposefully turn left at the crossroads, you know exactly where you are going. You ignore all the emptiness that surrounds you in every direction and just keep walking. A right here, a left there and suddenly after an hour of walking you are back where you began, an old and crumbling building at the corner of an empty street half hidden by the branches of a large banyan tree. You look up at the light shining though the window of the fourth storey flat, take a deep breath, push through the gates and pass through, thinking that it wasn’t so hard after all. You begin the climb up the stairs and suddenly it seems like it’s impossible again, the stairs feel like they go on forever. You pause and wonder, maybe it isn’t such a good idea after all, it is 4 o’clock in the morning, but then the memory of the light shining through the window flashes across your eyes and you can almost feel its welcome warmth. You start climbing again, faster this time, willing your legs to carry you with utmost speed towards your destination. At last you reach, out of breath but feeling glad that you made it this far, for realization dawns that coming this far was the easy part. You steady your breathing and reach for the doorbell and give it a push with no effect, you let out a small laugh, feeling like fate was laughing at you, testing you to see if you would give up. Feeling steadier now, you raise your hand and gently knock three times and then take a step back. You wait for something to happen but nothing does, so you step forward and try the doorknob and find it unlocked. You hope to God that you did the right thing and push open the door and the sight that beholds you reassures you that it was the right thing to do. A small figure is curled up sleeping in an armchair pulled up near the window, a book has fallen from her outflung arm onto the floor, glasses are still perched on her nose. You continue to stand at the doorway and look around the room, hardly anything has changed since the last time you were here, the same old sofa, the ancient lamp on the table beside it, the armchair by the window, the cabinet with the assorted showpieces from around the world, even the television set looked unchanged. Your eyes were drawn back to the sleeping form in the armchair, you look at her for a long minute, then cross the room and crouch beside her so that your faces are level. You wonder if you should wake her up, she looks so peaceful, then feeling like you would go mad if you didn’t speak with her, you place your hand on her shoulder and gently shake her awake. She opens her eyes but doesn’t move and smiles her welcome like she has been waiting for you for a while and then she lifts her hand and slaps you across your face. You are shocked and jump up yelling, “What the…?” to which her only reply is, “What took you so long?”. She sits up now amused at the stunned look on your face, “What? You forgot that I can be unexpected?”. You make haste to rearrange your expression to one of mild annoyance, clear your throat and say, “Your door was unlocked, anyone could have come in”. She looks over at the door, nodding her agreement and then looks back at you, “But nobody else did, did they? Besides, the doorbell was not working and I knew I could count on you to show up the most unearthly hour when I was bound to be asleep and knowing your fascination with fate, you would probably leave and I wouldn’t see you again for another ten years.” She spoke lightly but you couldn’t help feeling that you were as predictable as ever while she would never cease to surprise you. You say, “I saw your light on” at which she throws back her head and laughs, “For heavens sake would you stop stating facts?” but you are tongue tied, having agonized over this moment for so long, now that it has come you don’t know what to say. She sighs, rises from the chair, comes towards you and saves you the trouble of thinking of something to say by placing her lips on yours. And in that moment, all your doubts vanish as you pull her into an embrace and kiss her back with a passion that you haven’t felt in years and time just stands still for you in that moment. Nothing else matters.

The Begining…

A hundred thousand words wanted to pour out of her lips. A mysterious smile flashed before her eyes. A turbulant life was coming to an end and yet strangely enough, in those final moments before losing consciousness, she wanted to cling on with all her might to the vestiges of a life that was at the same time beautiful and ugly; anguished and serene; stark and plentiful…
The surprise was so great that her eyes opened of their own accord and focussed on the ceiling fan whirring above her head vainly trying to dispel the oppresive summer heat. The sharpness of the picture brought back to her some sense of reality, a feeling she did not cherish in the least and she was immediately conscious of the hard flooring on which she lay and the pain that throbbed at her left wrist. She wondered how long she had lain in a stupor and realised with a shock that two hours had passed since she had stuggled with her conscience for the last time and had decided to slash her wrists in an attempt to rid herself the life she was caught in. But alas it had been two hours and yet she lay on the foor surrounded by a pool of her own blood, alive and conscious. Three things were very clear to her, one that she had failed and was secretly quite glad of the fact; two that she would never again attempt to do away with herself no matter what the circumstances (it had been very eerie, the feeling that had engulfed her when the implications of her act had dawned upon her) and three, she now had the task of cleaning up the mess she had made so that no one would ever find out. Sighing, she got up from the floor, ignoring the slight dizziness that came with it and tried to sort through the blurry images racing around in her head. In her unsteady state, she paused at the window, saw the first signs of dawn in the distant horizon and took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air and smiled. A new day had come and with it had come hope that things might not always be as bad as they seemed…

PS # My first attempt at fiction, please forgive the idiocy!