She

I brought her home 4 months ago. Initially I was reluctant because of the high costs but then my friends and family managed to convince me. They said I needed someone who could manage my things and let them be in touch with me. And the rest was history. She had come to serve me, but it was she who made a slave out of me. She wove a magic over me so beautiful that we (rather I) became inseparable from her. She was everything (well almost) a man’s heart could desire, in his partner. Sauvé, sexy, polite, dark and intelligent. Over the next few weekends I practically disappeared from the social circles. All I could think was her; all I could do was to make love to her. It often left me listless and with burning eyes in the morning but then who cared?

I wake up in the middle of a cold night as an aftermath of a bad dream. My blanket is on the floor-obviously I have been stamping around in the dream. My eyes seek her. She looks so beautiful…her face silently playing one image after another. Maybe she is dreaming. There is so much of peace on her face that, reassured that nothing can go wrong I go back to sleep; again…wrapping my one arm around her warm body.

Morning, the first thing I do is to see her…or rather feel her well chiseled body lying against me…those curves that drive me crazy. I run my hands over his body, my fingers gliding and tickling her lovingly until she is sitting in an upright position. It’s only after that I open my eyes…my day doesn’t go well if I see something else…first thing in the morning. As I get ready for office, she sits right there on the bed eyeing me all the time. Often she breaks into a song, at other times shares the day’s news and then tells me how everyone is doing at home. If over the previous day she would have spoken to my mother she will reprimand me gently for not writing back home. I smile and say nothing. That’s the best part of our relationship. She lets me be when I don’t want to talk. She never questions me, gives me so much of space that I can easily fit the whole world into that.

I bid a sad goodbye while leaving for office. Sometimes I desire her so much that its hard to leave her back. In those difficult moments I ask her to come along. I tell her that no one will know and she can enter the office premises by taking a visitor card at the reception. She smiles sadly and shakes her head. No she cannot. Disappointed I take one last look at her and leave. Work keeps me occupied but then even if I have a few seconds I find myself thinking about her. I want to run back home but I restrain…patience, evening will come and then we will be together again, the meeting made sweeter by the distances that the day puts between us. Often like all other men, my eyes fall on another chick in office. Even in those moments I smile for “she” is the best. No comparisons either to her looks or to her memory. My heart swells with pride….

Its evening and I am just looking at the clock to strike 6 so that I can run back to her. But no, it’s Ashish’s birthday and since he stays in the same building as me they plan to celebrate at my place. I try to give some lame excuses that I don’t have a refrigerator stocked and other. My friends tell me that there is nothing to worry; we can buy a few cans of beer and some junk food on the way home. I hate them so much. All through the party I sit glum because of this unwanted crowd that has invaded my home. Even she looks a bit disappointed but doesn’t say a thing. My desires are exploding inside me so after every one is a bit drunk (so as not to mind an unnatural sight) I make her sit on my lap. The lights are dimmed and no one says a thing. We sit like this for the whole evening, our forms burning in liquid energy of love, but managing to keep the party and all that noise, thankfully at bay. It is as if she weaves a mesh of joy around me through which I can see and hear and even feel, but it’s different. Once in a while someone comes along and admires her. I show her off, for she is mine. Finally the party ends and its just the 2 of us and the empty beer cans that are left. The next day being a weekend, I decide to clean up in the morning. First things first. I need to set her mood right, give her time. She is patient and doesn’t complain and that makes me more guilty. Needless to say none of us sleep….

It’s in the wee hours of the morning, that she tells me that she is tired. Indeed she is…the intense love making had its toll…I can see that her body is feverish. Even I am tired…so we go to sleep. My dreams are filled with her (trust me; I no longer see those ugly nightmares). I wake up at around 11 AM. She is still sleeping. I tickle her, no response. I run my fingers over her, no response. Maybe she is still tired, so I let her sleep. I proceed for ablutions. Coming back, I realize that she isn’t still up. Now I am worried, what’s wrong? I shake her….she responds but not like everyday. She says good morning but then is not singing or talking to me. I must take her to the doctor. I set up a quick appointment and in the next 20 minutes I am carrying her in my arms to the car, for the trip to the hospital. There aren’t very many patients so it looks kinda ok. I am worried at it shows on my face and in my body language. Finally it’s our turn…

Doctor: Hello Mr. Singh, how can I help you today?
Me: Well you see, we have a problem- my laptop is not functioning properly. It was ok till yesterday night, infact till today morning and then it’s gone kinda slow. Plus the internet is not working.
Doctor: Let me have a look…if you don’t mind? What model it is?
Me: Sony Viao SD series. Its brand new, I brought it 4 months ago, still in warranty period. You must set it right, right now. What am I supposed to do for the whole weekend without the internet?
Doctor: Hmm….as far as I see, this should be ok in another half hour. I see that you need the updated version of the anti virus and the technician there is checking if all is ok with the data card. You can sit there at the reception, for all this while.
Me: Thanks doc for the quick help.

I go and sit there, keeping a watch all the time as to what the “doctors” were doing to my ravishing beauty. She looks back at me with the glazed feverish expression. Don’t worry sweetheart, you would be ok in a while and then we can start all over again. Love you!!

Until tomorrow

I love you - not for what you are, nor for what I am when I am with you. But for what I feel- the power I have over you. Of being able to play you like a puppet. Ah, this is such a satiating feeling to watch you forget the world; or rather make me "the world". The world- from which you arrive at the end of the work day-hungry and hungry. Hungry for food, hungry for me. Me first-.The moment the door bell rings I can already feel you all over me. No formalities, no lengthy procedures. I open the door and we start right there-even before you can step in. The rest of the stuff follows later- even closing the door.

As you take the short nap, hungry beside me (the first hunger conqured the time and space of the second one) I smile. My body shivers at the thought of how every day our senses dissolve each other- we annihilate ourselves. Its just the MOMENT that we live into- prolonging it as our wet forms slap against each other. It is for this moment that we seperate from each other every day-for the moment of the moment by the moment. Period. A period of moments.

They say love knows no boundaries- I say lust knows no reason. But then what is it that keeps us burning day in and day out? Love or Lust? Or both? I dont know. All I know is when we are together for those few moments we forget everything- no stray thoughts dissect our pleasure- no wives, no husbands, no kids, no work, no cares, no concerns not even the hunger for food (I know you are hungry because of those rumblings my ear hears when it lies against your chest).These we save for the later part of the day to be shared with our better halfs- when we get back to our original lives. Real lives. At this moment, I touch you- to see if you are real.

We dont speak- in all those past 7 months we haven't spoken a word to each other- we don't share our lives- those small pleasures are again saved for the better halfs (we try to be as fair as possible). Now that I think of it- it seems to me like a ritual- the ritual of pouncing on each other away from everyone- even away from ourselves. A ritual we repeat daily no matter what. We had met on the bus from office- both of us took the same bus from work each day. Our eyes had acknowledged each other and often we stood pressed against one another in the crowded vehicle. I hated this but with you it was different. You stood like a rock- with you around I could be sure that noone could get close to me- you felt like home. This had continued till me and my husband had gone on a vacation.On coming back I saw the look in your eyes- of pleasure to have the partner back- of relief and a thousand other emotions. That day had decided my destiny- I had slipped the chit "23 Pine Road - Sunday 11 AM" in your hands. No words then- no words on the following Sunday you came and no words even now.....

You move a bit....time to break the nap and go back to the world you come from. I cuddle closer- our breaths coming in a rythm- hitting each other and then going back- like ping pong. Like a well oiled machinery our hills and valleys fit into each other. Its a torture to let you go....but have to.....because what we do each day is not us...its someone else...its a reality away from reality...... It would be easy to see and think of us as married- but marriage is not for us. Marriage is boring(in some ways) and none of us want to be bored again. That too after breaking apart so many lives and so much of happiness. Not worth.

You get up now- kiss my forehead and proceed to put on the clothes that lay in a mess all around. Like everyday I lay wrapped in a sheet- watching you. You run your hands through your hair and then with one last look at me you are gone. Just like that- no goodbyes, no alvidas.

Until tomorrow.....................

The Titanic Chimneys

She had christened them "Titanic Chimneys" at the time when all the girls in her class were busy discussing Leonardo Di Caprio eyes' and Kate Winslet's dresses. They looked perfect when seen from a particular angle (from the class XI-Commerce window)- they formed a semicircle - the tallest one at the edges and the smallest one in the middle. When she had left home 14 years ago, they were the last thing she saw of the place she had lived for 16 years- they being visible from the train station; as well. And then; what came after was a dust of strong memories- like the smell of old once upon a time favourite books that hadn't been touched for a long time but still managed to remain in the soul -because they had seeped into the blood stream by some kind act of the nature.

Homecoming- and they were the first ones to welcome her- in all these years nothing tall enough had been built in the small town to obstruct their view. She smiled at them...saying a silent hello. then she smiled at herself- for talking to chimneys; even at 30.She remembered the time when she had seen them for the first time; at 3. They had looked impressive and ugly and had even managed to scare her; especially when they made a huge noise at the time of steam pressure release. Long after that first time; if she was alone on the road ; especially after dark she never dared to look at them because she had full faith in the fact that an invisible giant with an insatiable appetite for young children (especially the ones who were disobedient and poured down their glass of milk in the garden the moment the mother's eyes turned in another direction) sat inside them and could pluck her up by just extending his arms.

But then there were some advantages also. When the giant inside the chimney roared and let out a steam the teacher could'nt hear her own voice- forget about being heard by the students. It meant a break, no matter how small, 2 mins, 5 mins or 7 mins. Time passes slowly when we are kids- those moments seemed like eternity. Once; she remembered that the giant had kept roaring for a few minutes, every few hours. She had heard her mother say that there was some technical defect that had arisen in the power plant and workers from other shift had also been deployed to set it right. She had imagined the giant withering and screaming with stomach ache- probably he had eaten something (or someone) that was doing a run in his stomach an the "doctors" trying to help him. She had wanted to ask someone as to why did everyone want to save the giant when he was eating up children all the time? The best option to discuss was her bench mate Ruchi. Ruchi poundered over the "issue" and then had said gravely..."your mother must have told this story to scare you- there is no giant there". Rather, as her dadaji (who worked in the power plant) had pointed out that he needed to go to work because dal-chawal (pulses and rice) was cooked for all the people who worked there - and the sound that it made was like the ordinary sound made by the pressure cooker at home. If he didn't go there everyday to work(leaving the granddaughter to play alone) they would be starved. Ashish, the guy sitting behind them had listened to the small conversation between the girls and had laughed at them. He said that the chimneys were the "redesigned" hockey sticks of the Gods. He said one night he had woken up to find Indra and Bhima playing with them right from the skies.The conversation would have continued had the teacher not arrived in the class........

Time had passed and so had the childhood fear and fantasy. She now knew exactly what happened inside those chimneys. Nevertheless, there is no end of fodder for a dreamer. Her seat by the window in the class afforded her a good view....the chimneys standing out like masts amidst all the greenery below. They became the blackboard of her thoughts when the class became too boring. When Jurassic park was released, some kid in her class had said that he had found some dinosaur bones while digging in his backyard. Noone, except him had seen those bones but he and his backyard had become objects of envy. He went so far as to say that some distant uncle who worked in NASA would be travelling to the sleepy little town to collect samples and maybe then create a real dinosaur, like they did in the movie...and then one day they would rise tall....like the chimneys were doing right now...........

Each visit home had made her travel down this memory lane of all those thousand stories and million imaginations...as if a yarn was being woven between her mind and them. Each visit added a new colour or brightened an old one- pink for love, white for the peace of home, green for the warmth of family, black for losing a loved one. Lots of things had changed in her and around her but they had remained steady- a testimony of her childhood, teenage and adulthood...It was the first time she was there with her kid, Samarth and was unsure how he would take them up. After all he was an internet kid...brought up in the city who knew far too much of the practical stuff than she knew at his age. It saddened her to think that how much of fun and imagination had gone out thanks to the peer pressure and the quest of hows and whys.....

Her thoughts were inturrupted by the bus driver's yelling out the name of the stop where she needed to get down.She readied to get off- carrying the luggage to the door. She counted the luggage - 3 of them +1 - her handbag. Where was Samarth? She went back to the seat to get him...maybe he had fallen asleep, looking out of the window. But then he had not....he was staring at the Titanic Chimneys; the same expression that had been in her face, all those years ago.............

Another story.....a new one.......this time.