Dalliance

Midnight, sharp, my cell beeped. I got a message from an unknown number that wished me the most beautiful birthday.

“No matter what they wish for, no matter how far they go, people can never be anything but themselves."

be you! always. Happy birthday!

No, it wasn't my birthday.

Yes, I wished it was.

Because this person on the other end was quoting a Murakami. And he/she had effortlessly used one of his quotes as a birthday wish. Who could possibly be as crazy as I am about an Author of a foreign origin, who writes about dysfunctional humans and cats!

"Sorry. Looks you have the wrong number", I replied.

After waiting for almost an eternity, the cell beeped again.

"Shruti?"

My fingers went over the qwerty in million different patterns.

I managed to type, "No! Wrong number."

An instant response almost ended the conversation.

"Murakami, huh?", I pinged back again, curiosity piling up.

"Seriously?!!", came the response.

"Sorta!", I replied.

"Very Impressive"

"This was perhaps Shruti's earlier number", I pinged resorting to small talk.

"Chance encounters are what keep us going!", the ping came back.

This person was referring to Kafka. That was my favorite read. I wondered if soulmates ever existed.

"No small talks please", the request instantly came in. Rude, I thought!

Our talks didn't limit to Murakami alone. It spanned over my favorite authors and favorite discussions. I had no clue who the person on the other end was. Was it a man, woman, girl, boy, an aged gentleman, a well read retired principal from a school, a librarian, a college student or a doctor? I had no idea at all. I started looking forward to late night chats, discussing books after books, the interpretations, philosophies, how characters came to life in our mundane lives, and how silly quotes from books made utter sense in real world. We lived in parallel universes, entwined in a love affair - unknown, yet very true.

I liked how the fling lasted more than a week. For a month. Almost a year. 

"I saved your name as Reiko", I pinged one fine day.

"How about Midori? or Sumire?", came the reply.

I had not imagined a girl to be on the other end discussing books with me all these days. I did not know, suddenly how I felt about it.

"Good choice", I responded, not sounding too surprised about the discovery.

I saved her number with the name as "Sumire", while she called me Miu.

Like an ethereal escape, both of us deluded into our own lives, realizing, how Sputnik Sweetheart must only be a fiction.

Redamancy

Tahira stepped down from the bus and marched her way towards the salon she worked at. 

She was usually the first one to reach. While she opened the premises for the days work, she thought of Sam. He was always on her mind. Not because she was in love with him, but he was. 

Apparently so. 

"Let's get married", he had proposed. Sort of. 

She did not feel the tingling sensation, while things were progressing to the next level. 

Did she always want this - yes! 

Did she want this at that moment - no, perhaps. 

How life ambitions and desires vary when you compare it with respect to time... 

What you want forever vs what you want now? 

"Yayy", she remembered, reacting to it. Half heartedly. 

"I love you", he said, the meaningless sentence stabbed right through her heart. 

She loved. Not that she didn't. She loved, deeply - an idea, a someone, who did not exist. It was always in her head. This person, or love, or the idea of it. She couldn't put it down in words what exactly that yearning felt like. 

Sam came in like a breath of fresh air and became a habit. Nothing else. 

As she started setting up the primary counter of the salon, Rinku, her pet cat - a daily visitor came in. Today, it was something different. She spotted a chair stealthily climbed up on it, and started licking herself.

 The chair gave way to a great view - the mirror. 

She felt a sense of deja-vu and thought of calling Sam and talking to him about how she thinks cats are souls who guard you. 

"Sam, remember what I told you about cats, the other day?", she spoke on the phone. 

"No Taa. I don't. What about it?", he asked. 

"About Guardian souls..", she hinted. 

He laughed, "Not again, Taa. Talk to you later!" and he hung up. 

Rinku funnily stared at the mirror and took a strange stance and cuddled her self on the leather seat. She closed her eyes and gently grunted. 

Tahira, arranged her desk with the paraphernalia and wondered about the uncanny similarity between the calmness that the buddha statue and Rinku had. 

A living thing vs a non living thing. 

She took to a chair next to Rinku and stared into mirror. She looked at her self, noted the hair growth on her face, raised her eyebrows a few times, set her hair and relaxed on the chair. 

She gently closed her eyes and wondered what lay beneath her skin. She went one layer down, feeling her veins, the rush of blood, the thumping of her heart. 

Her breathing synced with her heartbeat.. 

1....2......3....4...

She started counting. Soon she was lost in a deep trance, or a sleep she hadn't resorted to in years. 

Her head felt lighter and a brightness within attracted her towards the unknown. She dived in deeper, and tears started flowing. She was discovering the depths of her inner self that she never knew existed. 

Suddenly she pushed herself out of this trance, fearing the unknown. She looked at the mirror and felt a love she hadn't, in her entire existence. 

That's exactly what she was looking for. A love, that she was seeking, had finally sought her. 

"Taa, I love you", she recollected Sam's words and smiled as they dissolve into meaninglessness.

The sense of words was eventually evolving for her. Love!

Epiphany

The wind caressed the tamarind tree, and the remnants of raindrops fell on Mangal. Startled, he looked up, and adjusted his seat on the rock he was sitting on. His cane stick fell in a water puddle. Mangal picked it up and tapped it on the concrete a few times.

Thakk.. thakk…thakk…

This place helped him cool off his anger, every time he had a fight with Kanta. He would barge out of the house at these impulses. These were regular scenes, and Kanta would eagerly wait for Mangal to come back home. He thought of one such fight he had years ago.

 ***

"Mangali"

"Aye Mangali"

"How long before you switch off that television and finish your food?"

 Kanta was eternally tired of running after Mangal for every little thing.

 "Bastards, all of them!", Mangal yelled.

"Why can't they catch a ball falling at an arm's distance? These cricketers are way too complacent for the money they are paid"

 Kanta sighed, looking at Mangal shift tensely on the cane chair, reacting to the Match India had just lost.

 "Such an abysmal performance. Leeches!", he frowned.

 "Eat your food, so that I can wrap up before the maid comes", Kanta called out one more time.

 Mangal took to his cane and hit angrily on the floor. "Coming!! Didn't I say!"

 At 80, his voice quivered. His anger, not so much.

 Kanta stayed mum, knowing this will take a while to settle down.

Babbling incoherently, Mangal inhaled heavily and began to sit for his meal.

“Finish this fast, the maid will come anytime”, Kanta reiterated, exasperatingly.

 He slid the plate away from the table, “Let her come”, he said and furiously walked away, his cane tapping the floor.

 Thakk.. thakkk.. thakk…thakk..

Copyright : obscureoptimist

***

Sitting at his favorite place, Mangal, looked up, at the intricate designs of the tree, and wondered, how beautifully the sunshine seeped through the gaps and distributed its chunk into beautiful rays. Today was not one of those days, though. Monsoons had rendered the city devoid of sunshine for over a month. Mangal detested overdone things. Seasons, too, sometimes, when they stayed superfluously.

 Brooding over what’s what and why was not his nature. Mangal would sit under the tree and observe things around him. He would add the numbers on the number plates of the vehicles parked or going past him. He would sniff tobacco every now and then, and, do nothing.

 It was hard to know what went on in his mind. He kept looking up, at the tree, wondering why he did not observe it this closely before. It was like an unfathomable maze. He picked up one branch and started tracing it from the trunk to its end. But he lost it every time. He failed to figure out which branch went where.

 After minutes of staring at the tree, he groggily stretched his neck and looked down. He felt the pull in shoulders and spine. He drew his attention to the trunk of the tree, and saw how beautifully it held all the origins of the branches.

He imagined Kanta.

He realized, he had not acknowledged how dependent he was on her.

 “Mangali Uncle…Can I drop you home? Aunty must me waiting.”, said a kind passerby, interrupting Mangal’s business.

He smiled.

It had just been 1 day, and he had to start informing everyone about her death. Perhaps there were many who did not know.

 “Sure. Thank you”, Mangal said.

 He turned back and took an earnest look at the tree one more time. He tapped it as if it was a reassurance that he was giving to someone who sought it from him.

 “Let’s go”, he said and started walking towards the car.

 “How long does it take for a tree to grow, if I plant it now”, Mangal asked the young man who had offered him a lift…

***

...end....