A New Beginning

Well, it's the season of sequels, so I offer here my very own 'desi' sequel. This story is a sequel to Delirium: hope you enjoy it!!! And, pardon the length!!!

Murky sun-rays sink into the evening dust. The dust fuses with the bars of my window. I sit and stare into bleak oblivion.
Disjointed thoughts overwhelm reason.
The world appears a hateful blur.
Slowly, the sky turns from indigo to violet to a stellar black. I keep sitting—unflinching, unblinking, unmoving. I gaze at the unrained, undusted sky. Consoling hope seems to rain from it.
I am lost in my thoughts, not hers.
I try to come ashore…

~

Three months have passed since she left. Hesitatingly, I have tried to fill up the immense void of her charmed non-presence. She had called up once after she left. That’s the last time I heard Tanya’s voice. That’s probably the last time I’ll ever hear it again!
But what do I do with the memories of that voice? Still so clear, still so true:
‘Hi, it’s Tanya,’ the voice from the other sounded as near as it was far. I grudgingly pulled myself out of that hurtful oxymoron.
‘Oh, hi.’ I tried to sound casual and concerned at the same time; I failed miserably as usual.
‘Hi!’
‘Ya, hi,’ I returned.
There seemed to be no getting out of it. Both of us seemed to be stuck in a rut.
‘So, what’s up?’ she finally asked.
‘Not much, you?’
‘Same.’ She seemed unnecessarily unelaborative.
‘So, how are you doing?’
‘Fine, What about you?’
‘The same. Assignments and stuff…’
‘So, been to any parties lately?’ she asked.
Was it my imagination of had her voice softened a bit? I let a few seconds pass before answering.
‘Nah, not really.’ I answered truthfully.
I’ve been to enough parties to last for a lifetime.
‘You ok?’
‘Yeah, why’?
‘Just asking. Aise hi.’
‘What’s new?’ I asked again.
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
Why was she being so unforthcoming?
‘What’s new in Dehra?’
‘Nothing. How’s Bangalore?’
‘Not bad. Ok. In fact, quite good...’
We carried on in this rather insipid strain for a few more minutes before finally saying our goodbyes.
The moment I put down the phone I realized I hadn’t asked her number. Damn! I sat down with a thump. A feeling of supreme wretchedness shrouded my senses. How could I have been so forgetful? I cursed myself under my breath. I felt accursed…
The days faded into the summer heat. My despair waned to a flimsy sort of eager expectation for a repeat call. But there was no further call from Tanya. That first was the last! At least, the last time I spoke to her. One evening, on returning home, I was told a girl had called—the name probably started with ‘T’. My heart skipped a few beats—but she had left no message. Then again, there was that uncertainty factor: it could be Tanushree as easily as Tanya. She hadn’t even left a number. I cursed myself again.
…I force myself out of this painful reverie. I have work to do. Unwillingly, I prod myself to unthink all her thoughts and concentrate. Finally, I manage to immerse myself in the pile of assignments that I have managed to accumulate. For a short while, the word ‘ease’ re-enters my lexicon.


~
I reach class slightly late the next day. I’ve spent yet another sleepless, restless night. Nowadays, my nights and days brim over with anathema.
I hand over my assignment with a trembling hand. My last three have been returned with red marks all over. But for once, retribution does not arrive with the teacher’s first look at the sheaf of papers. Perhaps this is a change for the better. Perhaps this unseasonal tide has turned…
The class relapses into silence. I sink into my books. For the first time in days, I am able to concentrate.
‘May I come in, Sir?’
The entire class turns to look at the newcomer—a girl! A pretty one, at that. The entire class’s eyes are on her. But she seems to be looking straight me. Her eyes hold me mesmerized. I look back at my work, but black, illegible scrawling stares back at me. Somehow, I turn my eyes away; strangely, I am prickling with guilt.
‘Ah, yes. Come in!’ Mr. D’ Souza’s voice rings loud and clear. ‘Class, this is Sneha, your new classmate. She was unable to join at the beginning of the session. I expect you to help her cover up what she has missed. You will make her feel comfortable here—am I clear?’
The class mutters assent.
‘Good. Now go take your seat beside S—.’
I close my eyes for an instant. I realize with a jolt that the seat next to me is the only unoccupied one in the class. I shift my things to make room for her. She takes her seat without much ceremony. Once again silence pervades…
I glance at her from the corners of my eyes. Fringes of hair run down her face. She looks enchanting, like a water-nymph. I look back at my work and search in vain for the concentration that has once again deserted me. A feeling of guilt envelops me again. But why should I be guilty? She’s just sitting beside me! I decide it would be the height of gelidity not to talk: perhaps I should make her comfortable.
‘So, hi—you ok?’ I venture.
‘Hi, yeah, I’m fine.’ She answers. ‘Thanks’ she adds after a pause.
‘For what?’ I ask despite myself: the answer is obvious.
‘I mean, thanks for asking.’
‘No problem. I was just joking. I knew what you meant.’
‘Oh…’
Silence. For an instant…
‘So where are you from?’
‘We just shifted from Delhi. Dad’s got permanently transferred.’
I feel slightly dazed. Dad’s got permanently transferred. We’re leaving. That meeting comes back to me with a sickening jolt. I’ve heard of déjà vu, but reverse déjà vu! This is ridiculous!
‘Hullo! You ok?’ she asks, possibly intrigued by my extended silence.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. So, you must be missing your friends?’
‘Sort of, yes. But I’m sure I’ll make friends here also.’ ‘How about starting with you?’ she adds, with a burst of inspiration, a second later.
She smiles. My heart does a cartwheel. I try to sound normal. After, all what’s the harm in being friendly?
‘So, how about it?’ she prods.
‘Sure, why not?’ I return the smile.
‘So, tell me about yourself.’
‘What d’you want to know. Not much to know about me. I’m a normal, boring sort of a guy.’
‘Still…’ There is a twinkle in her eyes.
‘Well, I like music, sports and reading, if that’s what you want to know. But never mind me, tell me about yourself. There seems to be so much about you!’
I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t be taking such liberties. She isn’t Tanya, after all! And what’s the use of inviting heartache?
‘What do you mean?’ she retorts.
‘Oh, just tell me about yourself.’ I say without looking at her.
‘Well, I love listening music, making friends and swimming.’
‘Ooo, baby!’ I involuntarily exclaim.
She laughs. I perceive the tinkling of a past laughter— laughter I had once savoured at a club dinner. I savour the renewed experience…
But again I retract with guilt. This isn’t right. Something tells me this isn’t right at all. But why? I do not know why. I’ll never know why!
‘So, what type of music do you like?’ she asks.
‘Oh, quite a wide range! Bryan Adams...’ My voice peters off. ‘Umm, no, Blue!, I like Blue the best!’ I quickly add. Better not tread on dangerous ground. ‘Blue!’ I underscore my already vehement answer.
‘Ok, ok, chill! This isn’t an interview, yaar. She sounds amused by my awkward ebullience. ‘Any specific song?’
‘All of them are good….’ I try to sound less un-normal. I was never good at keeping up pretences! ‘But I think “All Rise” and “What a night” take the cake. Anyway, why did you ask?’ For the first time it strikes me she is genuinely interested. But maybe I’m being sanguine.
‘Actually, Blue’s my favourite band as well.’ She beams at me.
I try to beam back at her. But I feel sick. Why did I have to venture a name? This is the worst déjà vu one could have wished for. Sneha and Tanya seem to merge into a scintillating glob of wax! I shut my eyes for a second. My head is reeling. I hastily change the subject.
‘So, what sport do you like apart from swimming?’ I fake a devilish smile.
‘Umm…I like basketball. Used to play a lot at school. By the way, where do you people hang out in the evenings?’
This time round, she has changed the subject.
‘Well, most of us are hanged in our tuitions’ I try to jest half-heartedly. ‘The rest of us hang out near Barthez’s. I prefer Delights’ I explain in a hopefully laconic manner.
She is unmoved by the paronomasia, but light of recognition creeps into her face when I mention the latter.
‘Delights…That’s the place across the road, isn’t it? Near the school?’
‘Yup, that’s the one!’
‘Will you be there today?’
‘Why?’ I’m feeling a bit dazed. Things couldn’t have gone this far!
‘I might come. I get bored at home. Will you be there?’ she again asks.
‘Yes, probably. But why me?’
‘You’re the only one I know around here. Why, any problem? she asks impishly.
‘No, no. It’s just that Delights is not a tourist destination.’ I return, equally impishly.
‘So, what time?’ she inquires, ignoring my remark.
‘Six-thirty perhaps.’
‘Okay. See you this evening.’
With this the bell goes off for recess….
I keep sitting for a while. Why did I allow myself to be pulled into this? There’ll be no getting out of it. She is not Tanya. Sneha is not the same as Tanya! But then, do past incidences bear such import. What’s the use of wallowing in the hopeless past? And anyway, why should I feel guilty? She hasn’t asked to be taken out. Neither have I asked her out. She just said she would come because she gets bored. Then why this uncertainty, this mysterious guilt? Tanya does not exist anymore, I tell myself. Tanya will never come back. But even if she does, so what? What’s wrong in being friends with someone? But am I looking for Tanya in Sneha?
My entire afternoon is clouded by ruminations more or less extreme. I snatch a wink or two of sleep before going off to Delights…

~

Two months pass. It is July. The clear and almost startlingly blue sky has moved over for a sombre, rain-bearing sky to reign supreme. Parched land has been replaced by quenched earth. Pigeons wheel around. It rains sporadically, but apocalyptically. Even without, there is enough rain in my life…
That first meeting led to many more. Delights at delights. Wheels within wheels. I don’t know if this is right. It just seems to provide me with some sort of consoling hope. After all, phone-calls and daily meetings just make for quasi-happiness: I feel incomplete! But I reckon time will heal. Time will tell…



~

I wake up with a jolt. An ounce of sun tries to enter through the skylight. My eyes are bleary with sleep. Suddenly, I realize the reason for my waking up. The phone’s ringing.
The world seems brighter somehow. I finally realize the cause of this quaint iridescence of the world. It’s the 7th. It’s my birthday!
I pick up the phone:
‘Hey! Happy Birthday!’ The voice on the other end is mellifluous and clear. It’s Sneha.
‘Hi’ I say.
‘Many Happy Returns of the Day’ she pronounces in capitals, before I can thank her. ‘Have a great day!’
‘Thanks a lot.’ I finally succeed in saying.
‘So, what were you up to?’
‘Wasn’t up yet.’ I remark, a bit drily.
‘Oh…sorry. I’ll call later.’ she says contritely.
‘No, no. It’s ok. Never too early to talk to you.’ I grin on the phone; I can sense her smile at the other end.
‘Is that so?’ she asks teasingly.
‘Hmm… I can’t say actually.’
‘Ok, ok, no need to get all high and mighty. Where’s the party?’
‘There’s no party as such.’
‘What?’
‘There’s no party.’ I repeat, half-glad that I’ve managed to stun her.
‘There’s no treat?’
‘Hmm…Let’s see. I can’t say. Maybe for you. But I’m not so sure.’
‘Is that so?’ she jeers. ‘We’ll see about this. Bye’
She makes as if to put the phone down. She’s putting up a good show of appearing miffed. Still, I have no choice but to let down the charade.
‘Ok, ok. Cool it, yaar. I was just kidding. Treat this evening. Same time, same place. Only for you.’ I emphasize. ‘Perhaps we could go somewhere else later.’ I add tantalizingly.
‘Hmm…Now you’re talking. See you then. Bye.’
I put down the receiver feeling rejuvenated and light-headed.

~

The day passes in a daze of quiet exultation. The morning blends seamlessly into a sultry afternoon and then a drizzly evening. The misty drizzle soon clears and a quiet breeze balms the fermenting earth. It is a perfect evening.
I am there before Sneha. I keep a seat reserved for her.
She arrives a few minutes later. She is simply, yet elegantly dressed—a flowing black knee-length dress. Fascinatingly, she exudes enough élan and poise to give ramp-walkers competition. I can hardly take my eyes off her. But then, when has my predicament been any different?
I get up to receive her. She is all smiles. I greet her effusively; she profusely wishes me. Our greetings mingle and blur into chrome. Then she does something she has never done before: she kisses me on the cheek. It’s done in an instant and she somehow seems to fall back after moving away. I realize she had to get on tiptoe to accomplish the task. She looks embarrassed. I am at a loss for words. I’m stunned, surprised and pleased at the same time. For precisely a second, the silence between us and the noise in the cafeteria fuse to produce conversation: without words being uttered on either side.
Finally, with a glowing smile, I usher her to her seat. She flops down, as if exhausted. I follow suit, and add a sigh for effect. She notices and returns the smile—this time she seems more at ease.
She hands me my gift as suddenly as she had handed the kiss. I manage to express my thanks haltingly. I hold the wrapped packet and try to guess its contents.
‘Open it.’ she prods. Her voice is nearly a whisper.
‘What a waste of wrapping-paper.’ I say flippantly. ‘I think I’ll open it later. You tell me what it is.’
‘No. Open it. It’s a surprise.’
Intrigued, I nearly tear open the package. A most cheering sight meets my eyes. It’s the ‘chrono’ I’ve always wanted, but never bought. (I already had half-a-dozen watches). I beam at her. She smiles back:
‘Like it?’ she asks, although my smile’s made the answer obvious.
‘It’s fabulous. Thanks so much.’ I really can’t thank her enough.
‘Don’t mention it. It’s my pleasure. So what shall we have….?’
Food and drink over, we make small talk whilst gazing at each other’s seemingly burnished visages. The world seems to have shrivelled and expanded at the same time. We breathe more easily. After a few more minutes of strained effort, conversation languishes.
This time I do something I have never attempted earlier. I lean forward and take her hand in mine. She does not withdraw it. A tense, yet calm silence ensues. Contradictions reign supreme. Sneha has almost stopped breathing. I hold my breath to confirm.
I request a walk. She complies with a nod. Evidently, this time she is at a loss for words. We walk out into the well-lit streets holding hands, not even trying once to change or ease the grip. The situation seems to have gripped us. We are in our own world, or worlds. Neither of us notices the usual: the people thronging the night streets; the traffic lacerating the roads; the beggars at the signals; not even the familiar, handicapped orphan on the sidewalk. For us, this is a first. We’re lost in a paradise that is an amalgamation of Mussoorie and Chowpatty Beach.
We have entered a dimly-lit, narrow lane. Trees line the asphalt. We move along without saying much, dodging inebriated pedestrians and unruly traffic that sometimes chance along that path. We stop beneath an aged eucalyptus and rest against a wall. I look at her. She’s looking into my eyes. I try to return the gaze. She moves closer. I don’t back away: in fact, I move half-a-step in her direction. I can see her pupils, contracting and expanding, in beat, perhaps, with the fluctuations of my heart. She moves still closer. I can hardly breathe. I can almost measure the length of her eyelashes now. Both of us have now stopped breathing, out of fear, perhaps, of blowing away the moment. She turns her face upwards, towards mine. I lose myself…
~

July gives way to August. Examinations and assignments become the more exigent concerns. Sneha and I don’t get so much time together. Still, perhaps it’s my imagination or perhaps she’s involved with her work, Sneha seems to be drifting away. There no longer seems to be the same familiarity between us. Indeed, a certain gelidness seems to prevail whenever we meet. I sullenly witness the rift: a silent spectator. By the end of July, we are but silhouettes of our earlier selves.
I accost her one day in the corridor:
‘Will you be coming today?’ I ask.
‘No.’ she doesn’t find it necessary to provide a reason. She looks a bit under the weather, but then, I always imagine too much.
‘But you haven’t come the entire week.’ I protest.
She doesn’t answer.
‘Please, yaar, I want to talk to you.’
Still no answer.
‘So, will you come?’ I ask doggedly.
‘No.’ she repeats.
‘Why? Just give me a reason.’ I try to reason with her.
‘I can’t come’ she says uttering her first polysyllables of the conversation.
‘But why? Tell me. I want to know…’
‘Just get lost! I don’t want to see you again.’ she says, and storms off.
I remain rooted to the spot.

~

August succumbs to September. It has been raining madly since the past week. The dampness seems to have got to my bones. Sneha has been calling me all morning. She apologized to me yesterday for her behaviour. Apparently, there was some problem in her family, that’s what had made her act so unreasonably. But the damage has been done. I cannot summon up enough heart to return.
But the phone-calls continue throughout. To add insult to injury, the rain continues unabated. It is perhaps the rain that torments me more than the phone-calls. Irritated, I finally pick up the phone:
‘What?’ I say irritably.
‘What?’ the voice on the other end sounds surprised.
‘Yeah, what?’ I say with reinforced vigour.
‘Nothing. How are you?’ the voice is clearly surprised by my vehemence, yet manages to remain pleasant.
‘You called to ask this?’ I’m losing it, but can’t help it.
‘Yes, I thought you’d be pleased.’ Sneha’s voice sounds a bit strange.
‘Pleased? Do you know how many times you’ve called?’
‘Yeah, twice. I’m sorry. I should have called more.’ the voice becomes softer and sweeter.
‘What? Are you mad?’ I ask, enraged.
‘But I thought you’d be glad to know that I’m back.’
‘What?’ I say angrily. But before I can tell her that I’m not coming back, I comprehend with a shock the heinous blunder I’ve made. I should have realized this earlier. I realize with a jolt that it’s not Sneha on the phone. It’s Tanya!
‘Really?’ I say, softly, hoping against that she won’t question this sudden change in attitude.
‘Yes. I returned yesterday. Dad’s been promoted. So we’ve come back to base.’ She seems to be smiling on the phone. ‘By the way, why did you react so angrily just now?’
‘Oh, just like that. I thought you were someone who has been irritating me all morning, asking questions about the exams.’ I lie shamelessly.
‘And who’s that?’
‘No one important. A classmate. ’ I say laconically.
‘Okay. So what’s new?’
‘Your news is the newest thing I’ve heard.’ I am feeling exultant beyond words.
‘No, I mean on your side.’
‘Nah. Nothing special. So how are you?’ I am finding it difficult to keep myself from shouting.
‘I’m fine. Was hoping you’d be at home. Beastly rain, this.’
‘Not at all. I’m loving it.’ At the moment, the entire world appears opalescent.
‘So what will you do know?’
I answer impulsively:
‘I want to meet you now. Right now.’
‘What? But it’s raining.’
‘I know. But I want to meet you. Please…!’
‘Okay. I’ll come. When?’
‘Right now. Same place.’
‘Can’t we meet tomorrow?’
‘No, I want to see you now.’ I insist.
‘Okay then. See you.’
‘Yup. You’d better come out this instant.’
‘Ok, ok, bye…’
I punch my pillow in jubilation, then get ready.

~

I am out in the rain in just clothes. No umbrella, no mackintosh. In a little less than a second, I am soaked to the skin. My clothes drip with water. But I look for no shelter. I determinedly make my way to my destination through the blinding rain. Rain-drops as large as pebbles sting my face and scald my face.
Suddenly, I remember that I have an unfinished errand to attend to. I spot a phone-booth nearby. I enter and dial Sneha’s number.
She picks up the phone after three rings.
‘Hi’ I say.
‘Where were you?’ she asks glumly.
‘Oh, I wasn’t feeling well.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing. A bit of headache.’ I say truthfully.
‘Oh…so…?’
Before she can ask the obvious, I answer:
‘It’s ok. I can understand how you must have been feeling.’
‘So you’re not angry?’
‘No.’
‘So everything’s normal?’ She asks the question I’ve been dreading.
The glass in front of me has become misty; my clothes are sticking to my skin. I heave a sigh and then fulfil the purpose of my calling her:
‘Umm…I don’t think so. We can just be friends, nothing else. I can’t offer you much else!’
‘What?’ she says.
‘I’ve had too many false endings.’ I continue. ‘This time I want to begin from the end. I’m making a new beginning…’

Next to the mall, I pause amd look
Up at the skies, feeling the delicious
Patter of raindrops on my shoulder-
Under the arched tree, I stand
Restfully, and am filled with thoughts of you.

Behold! The drops come to life
Heralding what our momentary
Acquaintance must have forgotten-
That under these rain laden skies you're still
The only, passionate love of my life!

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