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.