She closed her eyes as the first breeze fluttered among the dead leaves, and lifted them from the ground which had made them something of a past. The cold air silenced everything around it, the trees,the plants, the woods, the stems, the birds, the animals, the twittering, the chuckling, every single sound that exhibited a form of existence. The wind reveled in its prowess as the chill set in slowly, covering all with a thin linen of white haze. The sun rushed behind the clouds to meet its secret lover of the night and Mother darkness put baby nature to sleep.
She thought of a same wintry night that crept exactly 5 years ago. Ironed clothes resting on the back of wooden chairs, stained coffee mugs that adorned the only bed,sweaty towels thrust on the floor, cupboards that lay half open, the room had then showed all traces of his bachelorhood. Fortunately for her, the small kitchen was neatly kept, the platform and marble floor smelling as if they had been cleaned just a day before. She didn't spend too much time locating things, all masalas were stacked in one shelf with labels indicating its contents. Somehow, she found this behaviour of his silly, it was not the only the kitchen, the edges of his bed had post it cards stuck on them, of his appointments, his travel plans, his vegetable market visits, everything scribbled in minuscule letters to fit in the small yellow rectangular piece of paper.
He grew up in Bangalore, a city so small that one could never locate it even if one had a giant sized map exclusively of Bangalore. When the adjacent towns bustled with industrial activities, Madanaiyakanahalli was content to stick to its ancient roots of civilization. Whenever he spoke about it, she could see pride glistening his eyes and rest of what he said seemed like it was a fairy tale straight from his storybook.
Women woke up early, and washed themselves clean before the sun could bless their land. Men, in groups gathered outside the village temple and chanted prayers before they left for work and children went to a school where excursions outnumbered the classroom hours. The air, he said, smelled of serenity, the earth of salubrity. It was here that he saw " India Shining", he claimed one day, Madanaiyakanahalli, would be known for what it had so carefully produced- bright, fertile young minds where India's future progress rested.
It was only his name "Vishnu "that asserted his south Indian links. Otherwise, one could never call him a Madrasi, not by his appearance nor by the way he spoke. A tall man with wheat germ complexion , he was handsome, in an uncommon way, with brains that worked faster than the processor chips he designed in the Silicon valley. Everyone respected him for his intelligence and loved him for his humility and childlike playfulness. He indulged in all sorts of carefully devised pranks, yet cleverly escaped its consequences. He had a doting malayalee to call his mother, she seemed more a Bengali than a Malayalee, with crimson red sindoor and red and golden bordered sarees and an idealistic retired navy general for a father, His was a family, where one could not make out where respect ended and intimacy began. With his first salary at IBM, he gifted them an international holiday package for seven days and six nights. His parents had never taken a single holiday ever since his birth, and though this meant being away for so long the first time, his rationality justified it. He saw them last at Bangalore airport with two small trolley bags at their heels and a picture of a child Krishna, their family deity. He promised to take them, once his assignment was over, to all those ancient temples whose mystical stories he had heard at bedtime, of princesses giving birth to demons, of curses that turned kings in to rabbits, of gods and goddesses that danced in a spiritual trance. It was then that she agreed, and when he bowed down to seek her blessings, he felt a strange surge of emotions, such that he could not distinguish the positive from the negative. He quickly hid it, did not let it show on his face, but when she kissed him, they both could not hold it back any longer, they cried, like goats on the way to the slaughterhouse.
The earth moved around creating days and nights, the sun still rose and set every morning, people bustled about in marketplaces, kids still made their way to schools, and his colleagues came to IBM campus every morning as usual. But for Vishnu, the world stood motionless and the only asset that he felt was his own, was his cubicle at the corner of the office. He found comfort in its plain walls, warmth in the cosy chair, companionability in his snow white Apple Mac book and affection in his peers who occasionally dropped in with some home made pulao. He broke down when he saw those steel tiffin stuffed with hot steaming rice and aloo parathas garnished with the choicest masalas.It reminded him of everything that he wanted to be away from. Slowly he withdrew himself from the very surroundings that had kept him alive, like a caterpillar, for the fear of growing up and facing others like itself in colour and shape, retreating back in to its cocoon.
Work had become his God, he didnt believe anymore in a clay statue that people worshipped or a brightly colored picture that they revered. It was only work that he ever asked for, more and more of it, work that knocked him down and left him tired, exhausted. He seemed to be perpetually busy, with work assignments seeking him as if it were made for him and ended with him. It was she who noticed this and the more she noticed, she more she felt responsible to help him. She started talking to him, initially about the new clients the company got, the latest ERP softwares that her team developed after months of research, the newer versions of training programs that were squeezed in to their calendars. Later the conversations moved to a fine range of delectable palate, handmade spices and quick recipes, the year end sale on branded footwear and formals. The more she spoke, the greater was his desire to remain quiet and simply listen to those words, words that gushed like a spring of mountain, falling over the rocks as it made its way down. He loved the ease with which she carried herself, her unpretentious attitude floating like a quilt in the air. He loved the smile that brought about the fullness of her well chipped lips, somewhere it gave him an assurance that he had lost along with his parents. He loved her perky character, the liveliness in her rising like a full moon in a dark blue sky.
He marveled at her. He adored her. Her ability to command so much of respect after all the mischief that she played, as if she were a two year old just back from a nursery school with a bagful of leftover pranks? In a lot of ways, she was like him, she mirrored his past, through her, subconsciously, he was finding, someone he had long lost.
He came to office earlier than usual, lest he miss her and stayed longer during lunch breaks, devouring the rasam sambhar she had made, as if he an oriental that he had tried before had left his taste buds asking for more. He now cared about the oiliness of the hair parted to its left, the occasional creases that were an outcome of a jumpy bus ride, the colour of his socks,the belts he wore. He laughed more often when she was with him, sometimes without a reason, and on days when they went shopping, he made sincere attempts to hum a tune that she loved particularly.
She was pleasantly surprised at the change. Occasionally, when there was not much of work to be done, she peeped in to his cubicle, on the pretext of playing a harmless prank,and when she saw him smile, she felt the contentment of a mother seeing her child walk the first time. Of all the people who had wooed her before, she found drawn to him, a compelling attraction, out of sympathy or fondness, she wasn't too sure.
It didnt take her long to decide, a marriage proposal from a distant relative and she realised that she loved his tunes, tunes that sung a melody that she had never known. She was sure it was not one of the ragas of classical or Carnatic music, she had mastered both. Now that she knew what she felt for him,she felt suffocated, the powerful waves of anxiety threatening to drown her. She stopped seeing him, meeting him, and came up with excuses that did not require an engineer's brain to understand that they were finally "excuses". Deep down she wished he missed her,as much as she missed him.It was hard to avoid him so abruptly, harder, perhaps to confess the fact that she had begun to love him.
One day, they both pulled in to the parking lot, the same time, and when she put in the keys to lock the door, she found him standing next, with a face that looked calm, but was,surprisingly restless.
Before she could think of another excuse that sounded reasonable, suddenly the words spurted out. Amidst all the noise, of people driving in and cars moving out, she could hear his breath, slowing down, like a piece of music played for too long, nearing its end. It was only when she smiled, that he felt relieved, that it was finally out.
(This story is dedicated to a dear friend, who found his love in a similar way)
