Skip to main content

Truly, Madly, Deeply...

His head resting on the window sill, arms akimbo, eyes staring but not really seeing, he greeted the dusk. From the distant mosque, the faithful were being called to prayers by that soul-wrenching voice as the night birds began circling the minarets in the golden evening sky. The single street lamp slowly came to life, flickering once, twice. Its bleak glow illuminated the heavy pall of dust hanging in the air and he blinked suddenly.

Somewhere across that landscape, among the millions of people teeming in the city, she was there. He could imagine her at work, her head bowed in that peculiar intensity of concentration that boded ill if disturbed. The dark shiny bob of her hair would ripple downwards, but there would always be a wisp tucked behind her ear, thinking of which almost tore at his heart. The graceful arc of her cheeks framed a face that was… he thought himself inadequate when trying to describe her in words and instead, he closed his eyes, almost as if in worship.

His friend, wooden and reticent at the best of times, had actually gasped when he’d seen her for the first time. The memory brought another faint smile to his lips as he wondered how innocence, naughtiness and a deeper hint of mystery managed to express themselves simultaneously in those eyes. Even now, he could feel his heart beating slowly but ever so loudly as he contemplated… her, almost like she was right in front of him. To him, she was. Everywhere he looked.

The cards announcing their marriage were stacked in neat bundles in different parts of the room. Just thinking about that day sent shivers down his spine. Marriage! He was getting married, and to her! The reception would be spectacular; he’d made sure of it by reserving the best hall in the city for the evening. The honeymoon was to be in Mauritius and the tickets had cost him most of his life savings. But it would be worth it, just to see her smile. Eyes glazed over, his thoughts drifted, as night descended on the city and the lights came on in every building as far as the eye could see.

“Beautiful”, he thought… just like her… but she was more than beautiful, she was…

The first man to enter the room also gasped when he saw her, or rather the photos of her covering every square inch of the room. Then, the smell hit him and he gagged, and almost immediately retched noisily as he saw the figure by the window sill, the sunlight pouring into the muggy room.

“Crazy fucker…” muttered the inspector half-pityingly, glancing at the invitation card and air-tickets as he drove away. But he too found it hard not to think of her face… especially since it was plastered across the billboard announcing the release of her next movie.

Song for the moment: Sajnaa Aa Bhi Ja - Shibani Kashyap

Comments

bhumika said…
did you just watch om shanti om? :P i wonder if such a beauty does exist...
Anonymous said…
It's about Bombay and how it is very possible to be lonely or ignored even with so many people in the city. Who knows what gets swept under the carpet ?

Popular posts from this blog

Night Boat

I usually don't write honest pieces. They're true to facts but I tend to lather my emotions and thoughts with a heavy dose of attempted humour or misdirection. This post deserves some raw emotional honesty, though.

Yesterday, 29th August, a Tuesday (or should I say, another Tuesday) was about me making choices. It was raining quite heavily when I left for office, sheeted down the windows of the train throughout the 1-hour journey to Churchgate and kept going with renewed intensity by the time I made it to the entrance, looking verily like something that had drowned in a gutter and lain there a while before being discovered by a cat and dragged in. I made the choice to go to work as I suspected my boss would be there and not because I wanted to go.

I was right about my boss but that cardiac fizz of being right flattened out rather rapidly once I realised, around 11:30 am, that no one else from my team of 20 had bothered to make a similar effort. And, some of these guys live 5 …

Drink up and be somebody

Dear Reader,

History will boldly testify that your favourite blogger is usually slow on the uptake, a state of affairs that's blooming with each passing year like a reverse-Revital. "Why this self-harshness, G", you may ask? Well...

I've been doing the Bom-Pune-Bom trips for 9 years and it's taken about that long to accept that MSRTC Shivneri, still the best bus service of them all, simply cannot (or, realistically, will not) cope with 3-day weekends. Since my job profile does not allow me to plan my travel in advance on said Fridays, I land up at Dadar, view the queue of potential passengers snaking a long way from the ticket window and mentally prepare to arrive home at the hour of morning reserved for sheepish teenagers and dacoits. The Expressway doesn't help anyone's cause thanks to truck drivers spreading themselves generously across 3 lanes and clogging the Lonavala pass to a point where the traffic jam is about 3 km long. A stretch that would tak…

Country Comforts

Part 1

With timing that was far more impeccable than their usual service, the MSRTC went on strike 2 days before Diwali over a pay dispute. I've traveled on their buses for close to 9 years and know full well just how popular they can be just before a major holiday. The chaotic crowd at Dadar is so dense, one would only need to introduce a few Naga sadhus into the mix and hey presto! we've got ourselves a brand new Kumbh Mela. Albeit one where getting out of Bombay ASAP is the only kind of salvation devotees seek. 

News and newspapers being what they are at present, I was unaware of the jolly bus crisis until Wednesday morning when a well-wisher asked how I proposed to go home for the holidays, flourishing the paper in my face with the reluctant panache of a small-town magician. Realising the gravity of the situation, I looked up train schedules and was stunned to find General category seats available on an outstation train departing later that afternoon. As far as I could see, …