Magic

He was making some money now. In this day and age, when people hardly had time to lift their heads from the devices in their hands, he made some money. It surprised him too. Perhaps it was because his was a dying art. Magic. Well not dying, really. Just that he did not know how to make money with his gift. Anything commercialized well would sell, he knew. But he had inherited his father's simplicity along with his talent. He was not zealously ambitious, had no drive to be famous or earn heaps. His father had barely made ends meet. And so did he. At least he had no family to feed. Alone and wandering, he made with what he got. A one-man show, in every sense.

It had been only a few days in this new spot. He usually targeted small parks, where he could put up his acts. He would mostly perform during late afternoons and evenings, when people would be out and, perhaps, be willing to be amused. It was becoming harder to draw people's attention and interest. People had their smart phones - their life partner, entertainment centre, book, guide, friend and much more rolled into one! But his amiable disposition and earnest love for magic reflected in his work. People would occasionally pause and see him. At the end of his little performance, he would walk around with his hat so that people may appreciate him (monetarily). He had noticed that if parents were around with kids, the odds were in his favour. 

It was one such generous day, and he had just completed his performance. Being a weekend, the turnout was better than usual. His hat had become heavier than normal too. He waved, the audience gently clapped and everyone dispersed. He noticed that there was a boy still lingering around. He seemed a bit shy, and it seemed like he wanted to say something. He smiled at the boy, as he was sorting his earnings for the day. The boy smiled back. The boy was shabbily dressed, but his face radiated innocence. "You liked my magic?" 

The boy was thrilled at being addressed. "Of course Magic chacha! I love magic. Umm...I can call you that, right? Magic chacha?" 

"Of course, of course... you can. So you love magic, huh? What is your name?"

"I am called Chotu by everyone". 

"Okay Chotu.... so what is it about magic that you like?"

"Whenever I watch you perform, I am amazed at how you bring things out from thin air; and how things disappear or break - but you bring it back or put it together!"

"Oh, is that so? Well, it's not very easy you know. It takes a lot of work and discipline to be a good magician. You think you can work hard enough, Chotu?"

"Yes, yes.... I absolutely will, I can. Will you teach me magic, Chacha?"

He let out a hearty laugh. "Ah, so you want me to teach you too? Good good."

"Yes Chacha. But I think I would like to make some small changes to the acts, if you don't mind. That is what I want to learn".

This is getting interesting, he thought. A boy is going to tell me how to better my acts!

"Oh, is that so? May I know what changes would you like?"

"Yes Chacha, definitely. I need to understand if those changes can be made."

"Okay, okay - sure. Go ahead, let me hear them."

"I love how you pull a bunny out of the hat. I think bunnies are cute. But, do you think you can teach me to pull biscuits out of a hat?"

"Biscuits?! Why would people want to see you pull biscuits out of a hat?"

"Chacha, actually, it's for Munna - my younger brother. He is too small to understand things. When he gets hungry, he just keeps crying. Now, you tell me Chacha - can we explain to him that there is no money and we can't buy food? Mai and me, we can go without food. But he doesn't understand. So if I could learn to pull biscuits out of a hat, he could eat that. He would stop crying, I think."

"Oh. So.... do you go hungry often, Chotu? Where is your father? Does he not earn?"

"No Chacha. Mai told me that one day Baba disappeared and left us alone, to fend for ourselves. Which brings me to the next act. You normally make a ball disappear, and then you bring it back, right? Is there any way you can bring a person back? I think it would help to bring my Baba back. We don't know where he disappeared to. From that day the smile from Mai's face disappeared as well. I think if Baba came back, the smile would come back too."

He choked and tears welled in his eyes. 

"It would be tough, you know. Bringing back a person..."

Chotu interrupted him "I thought so too. Well, there's one act which I think, needs no change. The one where you pull a coin from behind someone's ears? That is perfect! I think that once I master that, I will be able to pull out some notes too. And then we'd have some money to live with. I don't wish for a lot you know - just some money. So that we can live. I don't want to get greedy - Mai says that one must not be greedy; God punishes greedy people. Do you think so too?" 

"I, well... yes... I agree with your Mai..."

"I will try my best to learn, Chacha. Will you teach me the acts, with these changes?"

Looking into those naive eyes, he could not muster anything except a very weak "Yes".

Chotu beamed with happiness and pride, not being able to believe his good luck. "Chacha, you know what, Mai says that all this magic is nonsense! Can you believe that? Now I am going to learn this from you and surprise her one day. You wait and see! When can we start?"

"Let us start next week, okay?"

"Okay. I have to go now, Chacha. But you will be here, right? Next week?"

"Yes. I will." 

"Okay then!" 

Saying this, Chotu frolicked away.

He packed his things and started walking. Walking away as fast as he can and as far away as his legs would take him.

Mornings

He felt a sudden need to scratch his foot – must be a mosquito. Without opening his eyes, he reached for his toes, scratched it and turned on the bed.

‘Oru maathrayenkilum kelkaathe vayyan nin Murali pozhikkunna gaanalaapam…’****

He heard K J Yesudas singing in his home. Amma had switched on their tape recorder, and it was belting out her favourite devotional songs. It was that time of the day when M S Subbulakshmi, P Leela, K S Chitra and other maestros performed for them. Amma never failed to play the cassettes in the morning – it was one of her ‘things’. The tapes were worn, and at times Yesudas sounded muffled or the songs dragged a bit, but that ritual never changed. It also meant she was done with her morning puja and she had moved onto her kingdom – the kitchen.

He felt someone gently shaking his shoulders. “Wake up Kanna…don’t you have to go to school…” It was Ammamma’s voice. She bent and gently kissed on his cheek and ruffled his hair. His Ammamma smelt of Chandrika soap, Cuticura talcum powder and incense sticks in the morning. He always associated her with purity – his Ammamma in the white mundum veshti, fresh like morning dew. He refused to open his eyes. Ammamma shook him gently again, amidst her ‘Rama, Rama’ chants. He heard a creaking noise, and felt the diffused sunlight on his face. Ammamma had pushed opened the wooden windows. He felt the morning chill, despite being under a blanket. He rolled himself into a ball. She left and he fell back into sleep.

He woke up with a start, to realize he had been whacked on his behind. “Get up, lazy bum!” It was Rukmini. He waved his arm to retaliate, but he heard her anklets as she left the room. “Look Amma, Appu’s still sleeping! Why is it that he gets to sleep till seven and I have to wake up at five in the morning?!” He heard her complain loudly. “He doesn’t have to write his 10^th standard public examination this March. He’s only six years old, Rukku – let him sleep longer. Why don’t you act your age and stop whining...” He heard his Amma from the kitchen. He smiled.

He then heard the sounds of a broom at work; must be Chechi sweeping the courtyard, after which she’d have to get ready for school. He opened his eyes and looked at the walls. Today, the damp patches had created a new set of designs for his pleasure. One looked like an elephant to him. He kept staring to see what else would emerge. “Kanna, wake up now…you will get late” He heard Amma calling from the kitchen. He decided it was time and got out of bed. He walked out and saw Appa sitting at the table, across the nadumuttam. He went to the kitchen, and saw Amma at work on the stove. The idlis, sambar and chutney she made for breakfast was placed on the counter. She was busy preparing Appa’s lunch. The smell of coffee came wafting out. He took a deep breathe in. He liked the smell of coffee.

Amma’s back was wet from the water dripping from her hair. It looked as if she had stepped right out of the bath. He saw that it made damp patches on the back of her blouse; just like the ones he saw on the walls. There was a small strand of mullapoo in her hair. Whenever the jasmine hedges in the courtyard produced some buds, Amma would make a strand for the Gods and a small one for herself. He liked seeing flowers on Amma’s hair. She turned around, and saw him standing at the door. “Ahaaa…Kannan is up? Now be a good boy and brush your teeth. Amma will come by the time you’re done and Amma will help you get ready for school” He nodded as he smiled. He kept walking till he reached the table. Appa was reading the morning newspaper. He was waiting for his breakfast and coffee. He put his paper down, and smiled at him. He smiled back.

Appa left early in the mornings for work, because he had to catch a bus and a train to reach the bank. Some days, he doesn’t see him leave. As he looked at Appa, he realized that Appa’s face looked tired and old. Was it that he hadn’t he noticed it before? The lines on his face, the increasingly greying hair…his friends’ Appa looked young, but his Appa….

Amma served breakfast and Appa was having it quickly. He walked out to the verandah. He heard Amma and Appa talk about money for the maid, some books or guides for Chechi and medicines for Ammamma. He looked at the sky. It looked as if it would rain. He didn’t want it to rain today – at least not during the short break. He wanted to play outside, as it was becoming increasingly rare to do that, thanks to the monsoons. Appa took his black grandfather umbrella, tucked the small leather bag under his arm, took the lunch bag and left.

*****

“Get up Kanna…do you want to go to school today? Feeling better?” It was Ammamma. He rubbed his eyes while opening it; it hurt these days, with all the crying he did. He looked at Ammamma. She still looked miserable; like yesterday. She didn’t wait for a response and left the room. These days, he hardly slept well. He tossed and turned before he could sleep and anything could startle him awake. He stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know what to do with this onslaught of emotions he felt; it always felt the worst on waking up.

He got out of bed, and walked out. There was no music, like before. Chechi was seated on the ground, leaning onto a pillar of the nadumuttam and staring intently at the ground, like she was lost in thoughts. He saw a silent tear run down her cheek. He looked around for Amma. She was seated on the table. He could see that her eyes were red and puffy from constant crying. Tears were silently streaming down her face. She had given up on wiping that steady stream. He looked helplessly at Ammamma – it appeared she was busy trying to attain peace of mind through prayers. She had her eyes shut tightly, forming furrows on her aged and crinkled forehead. She was chanting prayers under her breath. 

He looked at the three of them, one by one. He then looked up at Appa’s photo. Amma had replaced yesterday’s garland, with a fresh string of jasmine today. He looked at Appa smiling in the photo. And he felt something tug at his heart – how could Appa smile when all of them were crying for him?

He went back to bed and curled himself. He shut his eyes. He should get back to sleep. Things would perhaps get back to normal, when he would wake up next time.

****

For non-Malayalis, here’s the meaning/explanation for some of the words I’ve used –

****Famous Devotional Song of Lord Guruvayurappan, sung by K J Yesudas

Amma – Mother

Ammamma – Grandmother

Appa – Father

Mundum veshti – the two-piece clothing, draped/worn like a saree (or a half-saree) by Malayali women

Chechi – Elder sister

Nadumuttam – the inner/central courtyard or quadrangle (a traditional architectural element of olden days)

Mullapoo – Jasmine flowers

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I know, it's been really long - like really long, since I've updated this blog. I wonder if anyone who used to read me before even remember me now! If you do, say 'hello'! Maybe more on my absence on blogs in a later post. How are you all doing? I've been infrequently catching upon the blogs in my Reading list. Good to know you'll are still writing.

Strangers

She kept staring at Rita's photo on Facebook. Who was she?

Funny, how life turns. She couldn't believe this is her best friend from school; rather was her best friend...

She remembered that rainy June morning like yesterday. It was her first day at the new school; and at nine years of age, that's quite a scary prospect. Her tensed eyes scanned the classroom for a friendly soul and rested on Rita's. There was a certain sense of warmth and security that emanated from her angelic face. She'd hurried to the empty seat next to her, afraid someone else might rob her of it. Rita smiled again. And she'd felt that all was fine with the world.

Their friendship grew over days, months and years. Their names were always taken in the same breath; it was never just 'Rita' or 'Tina'....they were a pair. Partners in crime. Always. They bunked their first day at school together. They discussed their crushes with each other. They took up music and dance classes at the same place. Their tuition centres were the same.... and so were their study groups. Rather, they were the only two in their study group.

They had nurtured their little seed of friendship and it had flourished to become a tall and majestic tree. A tree, which gave them shade and kept them safe. A shade they would rush too, in times of trouble. There was no doubt... this friendship was to last a lifetime. They hardly had the need to say they are 'best friends'. It was understood.

Tina was still going through the album on Facebook. Rita at a party with friends, her trekking adventures, at her college...

She still remembered how terribly upset she was, on the day Rita was leaving town to pursue higher studies. They had been mourning for days; what would they do without each other? As the time for Rita to leave approached, they reassured each other with promises to keep in touch and update each other on their lives. Hugs and tears, wishes for a bright future... and so much more unsaid. Rita's car went around the kerb, and she kept watching it, till it disappeared.

Life had moved at jet speed since then. Rita was busy with her fashion designing course, and Tina was busy with her engineering course. They didn't even realise how their boats took separate paths in the stream of life. The calls, messages and mails trickled down to nothing. Suddenly, it was as if they were in different, mutually exclusive worlds. And they did not realise that they had not only grown up, but also grown apart.

Who was she? As she looked at Rita's photo again, she couldn't answer this nagging question. Hidden somewhere in this face, was the Rita she'd known years earlier; someone who was her confidante, her best friend. She searched and searched, only to realise that the Rita she knew was long gone. Or had she herself changed? Or maybe both?

 She then stumbled upon her wedding album. Rita's married!

She felt a sudden jab of pain at not having known it. She browsed the album, saw Rita beaming and happy, with her man in tow. 


Should she comment on the pics?

Tina smiled. She wished her best friend the very best, in her heart. And then she signed out of Facebook.

Alone

Intense pangs of loneliness. He had never felt so lonely in his life.

Amidst all the lives jostling around to make it through to another meal, another day and another routine, he felt detached. Like he did not belong to the here and now. Or to the people. Not that there were no people in his life. He had them all; a small family, a close network of friends, colleagues at work... And yet. He was alone.

Did he choose to be alone? Or was that the only way it could be? The routine grind had gotten to him. His work kept him late at office, and things weren't better at home. He felt like he was moving from one set of troubles to another. Troubles, nevertheless. He had forgotten the last time he had strummed his guitar, or took his favourite Bullet on a long drive. They remain at home, like pieces in a museum; grim reminders of his past and his passion. And yet, he couldn't resume playing guitar or go on long drives. Why? Because he just didn't feel like it. Sounds silly, but he couldn't make himself do it. He had lost the will to even try. And he couldn't figure out why.

"Mera jeevan kora kaagaz, kora hi reh gaya.... "

As he walked the bylanes of the city, he heard this song over the din; apparently, even the radio at a small shack shared his sentiments. He fought back desperation banging at the walls of his heart; threatening to take over his mind and soul. No, he was feeling lonely, but he wouldn't let it get the better of him.

He walked on, aimlessly.

**************************************************************************

Image courtesy: http://www.trekearth.com/

Lifeless

One could make out nothing. For a body that had been run over by a train, the less said the better. People thronged the railway track as if watching a circus.


Collective public sensitivity goes for a toss under such circumstances. A man being beaten up in broad daylight by goons, a woman suffering inexplicable birth pangs and stranded, an elephant run over by a train, a child lost and crying, a beggar pleading for alms, a dog hit by a truck and moaning in pain..... or a dead body on the railway track.

Where sleeps a man's conscience? Doesn't it prick?

So much for turning deaf and blind. We have an inane ability to be insensitive to others' pain and misery. Until it happens to us.

The police bustled in and pushed aside the people. The body had been mutilated. The blood had begun to cake. The head had been severed and had rolled off; finally being freed from its body. One of the crew started to id the victim. The victim is female, in her mid-twenties....

One could see a trail of tear that had dried down the corner of her eye. Only if one closely observed.

Giving Up

The water dripped down his hair. His face. His body. The rains were lashing, but he couldn't care less. Even as people ran for cover, he braved the furore of the Rain Gods. For someone who lost his job, the love of his life and was kicked out of his rented home, getting drenched was the least of his concerns. He didn't know what to feel. He was angry, disappointed, depressed, scared, tortured... all at once. This is it. It's time.

He walked and walked, till he reached the hill top. It was lying bare. The monsoons meant that visitors were less.It was devoid of romantic couples, college kids and wearied employees sitting alone or in groups, worrying about tomorrow or chatting away to get over their boring work life. But it was empty now. Suited him just fine. It was better that way.

He sat down on a bench, and looked far ahead. The rains had stopped. The vast expanse of greenery before him was soaked. He wondered... why should I live? Life had defeated him in more ways than one. And it was amazing how all the bad things crash-landed into his life in the same week, at once. She got married; it broke his heart. Recession reared it's ugly face and his company gently 'let him go'. He was so upset by the turn of events, that he had a drunken brawl with his landlord. The next thing he knew, he was kicked out of his rented apartment. Well, all was not that bad. He thanked God he wasn't handed over to the police for causing a gash in his landlord's face.

But he had nothing to hope for. At that moment, his life appeared like a dark, bottomless pit with no future. I must leave, he decided. He stood up. He looked straight ahead. He kept walking, till he saw the danger zone. A lot of accidents had happened at that spot. People had fallen over. And that had prompted the officials to raise a huge board, "DANGER... do not cross this limit". He looked at the skull of the danger sign and laughed out loud. Like you can stop me, he thought.

Now's my turn to fall off and give up on life. He stood at the edge of the precipice and took one final look. Suddenly the scenic view enchanted him. He was overwhelmed by nature's beauty. The trees swaying in the breeze, the smell of wet soil, the birds creating a music of its kind.... the clear sky... and wait! A rainbow! This was what I was going to throw away? At that moment, a surge of optimism filled his heart. If he had hit rock bottom, then it meant that he couldn't go any lower; now the only way would be up for him. No matter what, he'd live to face the consequences. Tough times don't last; tough people do, he thought. It was his life... his precious life. And to give it up for something so petty? And he laughed at the foolishness of suicide. What was I thinking?

He heard a noise; startled, he turned around. His leg slipped, he rolled and fell down in to the abyss.

Perhaps Death had not realised his change of plans.

Silent Thoughts

Gauri was waiting for him to come. Where was he? He said he would be here by 4 pm.

What’s taking him so long?

Gauri was oblivious to all the fun and frolic around her. Her friends were having a ball at the farewell party. Their last get together. But her object of affection had not made his presence yet. ‘Abhilash would be here any minute’, she mused to herself. As she sat in a corner, far from the crowd, her mind strayed…

*******************

“Guys, buck up! Let’s have more energy!”

Gauri was worried about the Annual Day dance performance. She wanted it to be the best event of the day. Though an exemplary dancer herself, she was interested in choreographing rather than being in the limelight. The team was low on energy on the eve of the D-day, and worse, the co-ordination was non-existent.

She was so engrossed in getting the performance perfect, she did not realise time fly by. Before she knew it, it was past 7:30. "Oh no! Mom had asked me to be back by 6:30; now it’s past 7:30! I am dead meat!!!” she shrieked. Abhilash consoled her. “Don’t worry; I have my brother’s scooter with me. Come, I shall drop you right away”, he calmly offered. Gauri knew it for a fact that her mom’s blood would be boiling by now and she gave out a loud sigh in apprehension of the drumming she would receive. She mentally prepared herself to listen to her mom rant and rave; and decided that she would not react, come what may.

And so, together they set off.

The drive was calm and the cool evening breeze had a soothing effect on Gauri’s frayed nerves. Her home was at the outskirts of the town and as Abhilash took a detour, the concrete jungle gave way to verdant paddy fields.

Just when she thought the worst was over, it happened.

The scooter spluttered. It choked. And then it stopped. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere. Gauri could not believe it! “Today is the best day of my life!” she exclaimed as she gritted her teeth. Abhilash tried his best to bring the scooter back to life. But it refused to obey like a wanton boy. He tried to console Gauri, but it fell on deaf ears. She was busy fuming to even pay heed to his words. He decided to look for help, albeit it seemed certain that there was no soul nearby.

A few minutes went by; and then a few more. Gauri suddenly woke up to the fact that she was alone on a dark road with just a dead scooter for company. And suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She screamed out loud. “Hey, it’s me! Relax!” Abhilash said. She was so consumed by fury, she yelled, “What the hell do you think you are doing? I was scared out of my wits!!! First, you desert me and go. Then you just scare the hell out of me…”

All he did was stand calmly and take her wrath. She suddenly felt sorry for him; after all, he was only trying to help. And here she was, insensitive to the helping hand he had extended.

“Do you think I would desert you?”

“I am sorry Abhi. I was getting late and then the scooter incident…I lost it then…”

“Your mom will understand if you tell her what happened, won’t she?” he interjected. And then, he drew her closer to him, to console her.

Was it the night?

The next thing she knew, she was in his arms. He looked at her face. By the moonlight, her face seemed to glow. She felt a kind of rush she had never felt before. She instinctively closed her eyes.

Will he…

Even before she could complete that thought, she felt his lips on hers. And they kissed. After what felt like an eternity, they parted. He hugged her tight. And she reciprocated. She slowly slid her arm on his. That’s when she felt his watch. She shook herself out of the reverie and was appalled when she checked the time by his digital watch – 8:30.

“My God! I have to go home!” she shrieked. They rushed to the scooter, confused as to what to do. He decided to try the scooter one last time. Much to his surprise, it kicked back to life. There were no two souls more surprised than them!

What was that all about?

As he dropped her off at the gate, he said, “Sorry, it was unintentional. It was a mistake. Please forget it… and forgive me.” He rode off. She walked in; confused.

That night was a long, sleepless one for Gauri. She kept thinking – why is he sorry about it? It did not feel wrong. Of course, the ‘moral police’ would beg to differ. But she felt it was a natural expression of love. Abhilash was her best friend. But she began to wonder – is there more to it? And it perplexed her even more. A thousand apprehensions tore her heart. The night was long gone when she finally dozed off.

The next day, she went to school with a million thoughts tormenting her. How would he react? Surprisingly, he seemed as if nothing had happened between them. The school’s Annual Day went without a hitch. All the while, she was astonished that Abhilash was refusing to acknowledge the previous night’s incident. Was she taking it all too seriously? Was there nothing to it? Was it just a passing moment?

She accepted his silence with dismay. She had hoped it would be the beginning of something. She felt like she was stuck in a no man’s land; somewhere between friendship and love. And she felt trapped by her thoughts, which constantly wandered back to the same point.

Did it not mean anything to him? Is it just me? Why is he running away from what happened?

Was it a moment of weakness or a moment of truth?

‘Life is a bunch of unanswered questions’, she dryly thought.

***************

He smiled at her, as he came in. She smiled back. Abhilash was finally here. Again, the sinking feeling of being caught in no man’s land crept into Gauri.

She consoled herself. Life is a bunch of unanswered questions.

***************************************************************************

"Thought for the day: No one has ever loved anyone the way everyone wants to be loved."

Forbidden Fruit

“Regular please”, Akash ordered. The waiter bowed and left.
He liked coming to this hotel. The ambience, the dim lights, the peace and quiet (but for the occasional brawl) and the soothing music. He was transported to a different world. A respite from the routine of day-to-day activities. Here he was one among the many. Unnoticed and undisturbed. He waited for his drink. His thoughts, meanwhile, meandered.

*************************

There was none like Meera. She was young, vivacious and charming. She was no extra-ordinary beauty. A plain Jane, if you will. But anyone would take note of her. A smile forever plastered on her face, a song forever on her lips. Music was her life.
It was no surprise then that Akash did not fail to notice her. He didn’t realize when she had not only moved into the next house, but also into his heart.

How did it begin?

Music…music it was. It was the one thing that drew him close to Meera. Though a very mediocre singer, he was an avid fan of old Hindi songs. She was his voice. When she sang his favourite songs, the lilt in her voice enamoured him.

“Akash uncle”, Meera called out, “We shall meet tomorrow”.

That was the only problem. Uncle. He was married and a good fifteen years elder to Meera. And he despised it.

Whenever she was free, Meera would come over to his house. He knew that his wife, Malini, was also fond of Meera. The couple was childless and Meera was the only solace in Malini’s life. Her incessant talks and music filled the barren house. In the evenings, he and Meera would settle down to a session of music and movies. She would eagerly devour the anecdotes he narrated. And she would sing songs and mesmerize him.
One day, his heart quelled the doubts that disturbed his mind. Yes!
He was in love- with Meera.

*************************

“Your drink, Sir”, the waiter announced. It disturbed Akash from his reverie. He nodded and the waiter took leave. As he took his first sip, his thoughts loitered. He picturised that particular evening in his mind. He remembered it distinctly; like it had happened yesterday.

**************************

Malini had left for the temple. She would be late, she said. She would stop at Shyama’s place on the way back. They had to go shopping. Akash found it an extremely pleasant proposition. Now only if Meera would come.

And she did. “Where’s Malini aunty?” she enquired. “She’s gone to the temple”, Akash replied. A couple of songs later, Meera suggested, “I guess I should leave”.
“One more song Meera”, Akash requested. And that one song made all the difference.

Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo
Yunhi pehlu mein baithe raho
Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo
Haay mar jaayenge, hum to lut jaayenge
Aisi baatein kiya na karo
Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo

Akash was moved beyond words. Farida Khanum seemed to mouth his sentiments. And Meera, with her eyes half-closed, stirring passionately with every harkat in the song aroused in him feelings he had bottled for long. She continued…

Waqt ki qaid mein zindagi hai magar
Chand ghadiyan yehi hain jo aazad hai
Inko khokar mere jaan-e-jaan
Umr bhar na taraste raho
Aaj jaane ki zidd na karo

He didn’t want to repent not trying. He touched Meera’s hand. She stopped singing and opened her eyes, to find his hand on hers. Akash couldn’t hold his thoughts back any longer. They tumbled out like stones rolling down a steep slope. He felt like a well-shaken champagne bottle that has just been unplugged. Everything was out in a moment, with a lot of fizz and very less remained to be said. After this barrage of words, he felt exhausted yet exhilarated. Finally relieved to get it off his chest. Meera just listened. And then she smiled. She felt as if someone had put her thoughts into words. She had felt a strange connection to Akash. And then the moment had revealed it – the feelings were mutual. Akash couldn’t believe it. She echoed his sentiments. From then on, their rendezvous took another flavour.

**********************

The waiter appeared again. Akash ordered the next drink.

Where had things gone wrong?
Ah yes! He recollected…

***********************

Malini had gone to her native place. He was alone. And Meera had come along, as usual.
There was a particularly uncomfortable silence between them that day. Tension was palpably in the air. She started to sing…

Piya tose naina laage re
Naina laage re
Jaane kyaa ho ab aage re…

The next thing she knew, Akash had almost embraced her. He felt his heart thump hard. He had almost engulfed her in his warmth. But he froze. His eyes fell on their photo. Malini and him. Together and happy. A pang of guilt confounded him.

Meera snorted. “Thought of your wife, didn’t you?” she mocked him. Something he could not deny. He remained silent. She stepped back and continued,
“This relationship has no future. It’s a dead end. Cul-de-sac. You have your family and that is your priority. I will have one in the future; that will be mine. Why fall into a pit with eyes open? This will be labelled as infidelity, promiscuity and what not! I will be called the seductress and marriage-wrecker. I am the woh in 'Pati, patni aur woh'. Can a tawaaif ever become the wife???” And she laughed at her own self-depreciatory joke.

“I may have a place in your heart, but none in your life. This is a forbidden fruit, Akash. Don’t taste it. You will live to repent it.”

“It’s not meant to be, Akash. Just not meant to be.” She said. “I have a career to pursue, in singing. One day, I will be a famous singer. Remember me then.” Saying this, she left his house. And his life.

***********************

“Your drink Sir.” Oh yes…he had ordered one. “Thanks” he replied. The waiter left him to himself. He had always wondered. Was it true love? A heightened sense of admiration? Or a passing infatuation? He would never know. She never gave it a chance. But he could never forget her.

Ek tum hi nahi tanha
Ulfat mein mere ruswa
Ulfat mein mere ruswa

Meera still had that lilt to her voice. Akash opened his eyes and saw her sing; with her eyes half-closed. Years had added grace and depth to her singing. He smiled sadly. For all her ambitions, she was relegated to a singer…at a hotel. But he knew she was born to sing for him. Forever.

Is shehar mein tum jaise
Deewane hazaron hai
Deewane hazaron hai

In aankhon ke masti ke
Mastane hazaaron hai….

He closed his eyes and reclined in his chair. He drifted into a world of his own. Where all his dreams came true…

*********************************************************************************

Thought for the day: " The greatest thing you'll ever learn

Is to love and be loved in return."

~ From Unforgettable with Love by Natalie Cole