7. Wilful imprisonment

Name: Not known. Recognition: U.Z

Time stood still. Light or darkness did not matter. There was presence of both. When it opened its eyes, the world was its usual self; blurringly edgy. Colourless. Shapeless. Making sure that the eggs were safe in the nest, it fluttered its wings and settled down on a nearby branch. From there, it could clearly see the panorama. The black and white outlines of the objects started to make little sense.

The huge destructed wall was as intimidating as always. However, on it was moving a small figure. As if sliding on the ground. As if forcing his feet to carry his body. At the place where fissure appeared, it stopped. After a second of eternity, it heaved itself in air and jumped...

And after few millenniums, the air was ranted with the fearful resounding splash of water. Once again, the bird fluttered back to the safety of its nest.

                                                                                     **** 

He was in his element, his usual good-humored, good-natured element. He saw her across the street. Anticipation pounding his heart, he started to cross the street...

He opened his eyes again. He looked at the deep abyss in front of him. He looked at the stillness of the environment in that part of night. What was the time? Was it nearing four thirty in morning? He was getting confused. He closed his eyes again... 

Her eyes... Her beautiful eyes, which seemed like pools of unreachable light. How can anybody be so enchanting? What magical power makes somebody so beautiful? He reached for her hand, and pressed it heartfully. She smiled. He swooned. His lips moved. The unnecessary interruption of sound spelt; I love you...

He looked back into the depth. It was a long winding gap between the two parts of the dam. The scars of that long forgotten tragedy still intact on its body. The jutting spikes of concrete sticking out at odd angles in odd ways. The perilous height juxtaposing him to the brink of insanity. He looked around. Everything was still passive. The cloud moved away in the sky. Moons first rays fell on his face. They, for some seconds lightened his deep eyes. Then he was a blur. His eyes closed, he leaped into air... 

He saw it before it came to him; the great currents rushing towards him, like pack of rowdy hungry Alsatians hounding for food. His immediate thought was about her safety. Then he realized she must have been the first one to be swept away. The water was just about to reach him, its tongue wagging in obscene hunger, when he got back in action and ran for the cliff...  

He was swimming in the air, somersaulting, nose-diving through the nauseating void. And after moments of unending adrenaline rush, he tore apart the rippling surface of the running current, going head first into the deep fathoms of water. Bitingly cold water of the river stung him like needles. He struggled himself back to the surface to inhale the life giving lung-fulls of dawn air...

He saw the destruction. The havoc. As if some monstrous wind had come and swept away with it everything remotely worth being swept away. Major areas of the region were submerged inside the water. The hotel was destroyed. The love of his life had been carried away by killer tides in front of him. Jobless, loveless if all he could have done, he should have himself taken the plunge. But he didn’t. If only he would have had...

He swam against the gushing currents of the river to reach the opposite shore. The dam stood like a tall, yet humbled bastion. The wide fissure running in between was allowing a decent stream of water to flow to that side. The strong gust was making it difficult for him to stay afloat. He would anytime be carried off, if he didn’t concentrate his might to reach the other end. He closed his eyes, as water over lapped his face again...

He could have torn himself off in parts for being alive. The sadness of life was too unbearable. The deep set anguish seemed to scald his body as a searing knife would. He just wanted to die, to get freedom from that isolation. He wanted to kill himself for being the only one to be unlucky enough to survive. He saw fear in every government rescue persons face. They clearly understood the depth of his loss. And what it could have driven him to. All he could do was to wait patiently. To go on. To do nothing but wait...

He stood still on the shore as he reached the bank of the river. Facing directly the damned dam, he looked at the radiance emerging from behind it. And then through the wide fissure appeared the first rays of the day’s sunlight. And they hit his eyes like miniscule pieces of shattered glass. He looked away from an object which vibrated with so much hope… It pained him, the happiness surging his heart at the sight of its beauty. He wanted to punish his body to follow his heart once again and come one step closer to be happy. Slopping on the slush around the bank, he reached for the solid ground. There, he fell down on the overgrowth and once again closed his eyes...

He saw her happy smile. The way she used to walk as if she is dancing. The way she used to work as if her touch would complete the job in a jiffy. The way she used to spread happiness at the construction site of the dam; as if leaving a trace behind in the air. The inexplicable beauty of her charm. The innocuous magnificence of her charisma. The way she used to come like a zephyr and caress the pains of his life only to leave behind a smile on his face...

The light breeze made him shudder at the cold of the atmosphere. He allowed the wetness to punish his body for its inexcusable misbehavior. Pure contempt washed over him, and his ego purred in delight. After some while, when sun was up in the sky, he got up and hopped into the boat stationed nearby. A big family was supposed to come to the hotel that day.                      

                                                                                   ****

He was pruning the gardens when they came. He could not believe for once what he was seeing. Then, when he was absolutely sure of it, he could not believe the benevolence of nature. He was finally being provided with his reason for living! He was at last being reunited with his love…

And then he came from nowhere and held her by her waist. He could have murdered him right there, had he not seen her smiling face look at him and kiss him on his cheek. Then he understood. It wasn’t her. Nevertheless his urge to kill that man did not vanish.

When he was told to escort them to a room, he deliberately placed them to the nearest from his cottage. He wanted to keep a good eye on them. Specially on her. What did that guy called her as? Sheffy-something. Weird name. It didn’t suit Nisha’s face.  

The guy left suddenly from the room as he was putting the bags down. The girl was busy talking. He seemed to have adopted a dreamy look all of a blue, and just left the room as if being pulled away by a magnet. The girl finished her talk which mainly was about some marriage preparation. She was giving vivid description of a Cliffside to the person on the other side of phone when she realised she was alone in the room with him. She asked him about where he had gone. He shrugged and pointed in the direction the idiot seemed to have taken. She went away behind him. He sat down for sometime. Then he also decided to follow.

When he reached the pond, he realised the guy was walking back to the room without her. He seemed possessed, the kind of look in his eyes. It reminded him of the zombies he had seen in that American film, what was it called? Mummy… Papa… he didn’t remember. After a few minutes, even she followed. He stood back amongst the bushes. The sadness on her face reminded him so much of Nisha…

                                                                                     ****

The bubble was growing ferociously. The froth in the water exaggerated its size every second. The pond was rippling in its usual candour, the waterfall creating the wide circles of rebounding undulations. The bubble was growing minute by minute…

She was running ahead of him, turning back and again, flashing her coy smile. He did not run behind her. He was walking slowly and deliberately, with a knowing gait of a predator behind its victim. There was no rush in is manner, no hurry. Just pure anticipation. She turned in the direction of the pond and he followed her; unhurried and slow…

He saw the bank. The pebble strewn floor. The huge boulders providing unlimited privacy and security. The deep foliage shunting out the sun. Each grain of sand had her encapsulated, just as she had been. Each nano gram of matter had her memories. She still existed in every bit of the place. Unseen, unfelt… only remembered. Just as one remembers the touch of the wind on ones face moments after it passes away. She was there everywhere… in his memories…

She laid herself down on the floor, beside the water. Her stretched body had a magical quality of its own. Had Cleopatra laid down for Caesar in the same way? Had Hera waited upon Zeus in the similar manner? He didn’t knew. All he cared was that this moment is his…

Waves of current washed over him again, crippling him. He was defenceless against the mighty power of his helplessness. The pain of knowing that it was beyond his capacity, beyond his power to retrieve that time, even if he bartered it for his life. He could not do anything, but to watch the bubble grow… in a swift cat like motion, he jumped into the pond.

It started to rain suddenly. The water drops falling down from the high trees wet her body, wet her pink saree. She rose up and sat, her arms curled around her knees, locking her body in naughty defiance. He advanced towards her slowly. Relishing every moment of the killing impatience in his mind. Enjoying every rise in the crescendo of his heart beats. He bent down, and in one swift action of violence, he grabbed her head by her wet hair. And glued himself to her lips…

The bubble was growing incontrollably. With every new addition of air, it was reaching a point it would explode. He was struggling against the water, against the growing expanse of the lake as rainwater and the gushing waterfall were increasing the size of the lake. He was swimming, or trying to drown himself? He was rising or submerging himself? The memories were too strong to be easily borne. He had to do something to overcome it. Time was ripe to reach absolutes. The bubble was growing…        

And then, just when it seemed it will not be able to grow any bigger, just when it seemed that it is impossible for it to take in anymore; the bubble burst.

His limp overturned body was carried by the strong ripples on the shore. He opened his eyes and the thick raindrops splattered on his face. He felt blank shock at that sudden release. The numbness of disbelief at such an abrupt end of torture. His mind was in a zilch. No thoughts whatsoever came to him. Just plain comfort of oblivion.

He jerked himself out of the water and moved towards the boulders. Standing over one of the biggest ones, he could easily see the drenched highway and the bridge built over the river. And on the bridge he saw a figure. A small feminine figure. Nisha’s figure.

Before the bubble could regenerate, it was prematurely murdered by dank realisation of her death. The figure was too far away to be distinguished. He was hallucinating.

                                                                                      ****

He overheard them while he was passing by their rooms. He couldn’t help it. He hadn’t intended to, but the manager pleaded him to attend to a problem which had come up with the big family stationed at the other part of housing. He was just picking up his tools, when he overheard them.

“I really love you Arpit… Promise me you will never leave me alone…”

With an inexplicable fit of rage, he threw his tools down and moved on in a huff. The manager and his orders be damned. ‘HE’ was the uncrowned king of the place not some stupid city returned fellow who had been ‘put’ to charge by the owners. He had earned the ownership, not bought it. Some junior staffer would do the job. He just needed to gather himself at that time.

“Bloody heck!” he cursed the skies. “How come you start leaking like a mad hose in midst of winters???”

                                                                                      ****

He was about to retire for the night, when a shadow appeared across his window. “What was it?” he wondered. It was leaping in the air. He got up and opened the door of his cottage. What he saw made him disbelieve himself. The guy with Nisha was moving again towards the pond. He did not seem occupied this time though. His walk was having intent, some sort of compulsion on his body.

He followed him into the darkness, lead only by the falling lights of his torch.

“This man is crazy!” was his only thought. He was walking, unescorted, uninitiated into open void, not knowing, not understanding where he was leading himself. He crossed the blank pasture adjoining the lake and came to the place where water cascaded down the cliff. He followed him, but somehow couldn’t stay with him when he reached the waterfall. Stationing himself at a distance, he waited for some unexpected move. When none came for sometime, he decided he’ll just go behind him.

That’s when he heard the creaking. As if somebody was moving one of those boulders away. His heart started beating faster. He stood and tried hearing what it was. But he couldn’t hear anything over the croaking cicadas, and tinkling waterfall. He was about to move a few steps when he heard the low wail.

It shocked him, the sound of it. Not because of the spookiness of it. But because he had heard it earlier. He couldn’t remember when. The voice made him think of some long lost connection. Something you do in innocence of childhood and conveniently forget. He thought he had heard it long time ago, as if the voice had personally whispered into his ears once.

He quickly moved in the guys direction, Arpit or whatever his name was. He moved aside the huge palm frond blocking his face, and was just about to reach for the cliff when he realised none was there. All that was there was a huge gaping fissure; an entry to a cave!

Full of forebodings, he decided to enter the place.

And just as he stepped inside, his consciousness got wiped off! From then on, he could not remember one second of the time passed.

                                                                                ****

Her face was inches away from his. She came down and rubbed her nose on his. Her hair fell on him, and the small water drops fell into his eyes. He smiled…

The sunlight hit his eyes as if something foreign entered in them. He was lying as if unconscious in the open field. He got up and saw the mountainside in front. A rainbow was emerging from beyond the clouds. He shook his head in disgust and sudden realisation hit him. He had missed it! It was already daybreak! And the next moment, like the burning glare of a laser in darkness, he remembered.

“The Hotel!”

He ran.

When he reached, the first thing that he saw was Nisha walking here and there in a helpless way. The look of her face and the frustration of her actions suggested that she was in search of something. He moved towards her.

“Left! Without even saying a word! Without even informing once! Is this the way? Where is he?” she asked him.

He felt non-plussed. Then he remembered the previous night. His hope were starting to soar when she resigned. He looked at himself. He noticed he was dirty. He went to his cottage and changed.

                                                                                   ****

He was moving out of the reception lounge when he saw him. He felt as if the balloon of his sudden happiness was burst by a prickly needle. In absolute contempt, he pushed the door away. In the end, the blonde foreigner almost tripped. He turned around and looked at him. Their eyes met just for a second, but he felt as if a lot of understanding was exchanged in that duration. He couldn’t formulate its exact nature though.

He was about to go to the gardens once more, when the manager rang the bell. He went inside again, and he was signalled towards the bag. He picked it up and went to the only room left available. And then went to the kitchens to supervise the breakfast.

He closed his eyes in resignation. Her face appeared. He opened his eyes again. He saw her with that fellow.

Sudden burst of energy inside him told that he was ready to kill him that very second.

Ahem...

Mann Maheshwari and Sahil Khamosh watched as Ansh left the dining hall.

“He’s a smart one, that boy,” said Sahil stretching his legs like a cat.

“Not half as smart as the foreigner,” said Mann returning his dreamy gaze to the ceiling.

Sahil watched Ashi who was now arguing with the manager.

“And that one, his twin sister. Strong stuff. Mind  if I try to strike a conversation with her?”

Mann looked at Sahil and said firmly, “Yes, I do. No active participation. We remain passive observers. That’s how it works.”

“Ok ok…so, you think we have a story here?”

“Oh yes, but something tells me that all the players have yet to reveal themselves.”

“Fine, let me know when they do,” said Sahil closing his eyes once again.

Mann frowned.

“Why do you sleep so much?”

Sahil smiled.

“I don’t sleep, I contemplate.”

Mann rolled his eyes and grinned as Sahil began snoring a few seconds later.

6. The Loser and The Lost

Ansh and the Other One.

Ansh thoughtfully scratched his nose with the wrong end of the paint brush as he stared at the crib constructed by the hotel staff. It was a decent enough model of the nativity scene but the wall behind it looked plain and bare. When Ansh had offered to paint something on it, the manager had been more than willing to hand him a paintbrush and some colors.

After giving the wall a wash of a dark blue color he proceeded to highlight some clouds. What else? Maybe some stars…of course to guide the three wise men – their very ancient but effective global positioning system that would lead them to the son of God on Christmas day. A few final touches to an impossibly bright star and Ansh stood back to admire his handiwork. Not bad, he thought smiling. Painting and sketching always helped him improve his mood.

Rubbing the paint off his hands, Ansh wondered when the last time he had painted anything was. Was it last week? Yes, he had painted – Divya’s eyes. And he had gifted it to her.

Ansh controlled the urge to smash a few paint bottles against the wall. He wondered if Vinay could paint…but then again, Vinay could probably do a thousand more interesting things.  Who cared a damn about art and creativity and all that crap as Divya had so rightly said during their last conversation…

“That’s beautiful, bro…”

He turned. Ashi smiled at him, a sincere honest smile. And in her eyes he saw neither pity nor sympathy, but genuine admiration.

“Ashi…I’m sorry if I’ve behaved like an ass…”

“It’s ok…you can’t help it, that’s how you are. I understand.”

Ansh’s arm moved faster than Ashi could react and left her with a streak of white paint on her face.  Ashi screamed and punched him on his chest. Ansh realized too late that he couldn’t run with his lame foot. But then again, he didn’t want to.

 

The manager cleared his throat and smiled at his audience. Ansh yawned. It was lunch time and all the guests had accumulated in the dining hall. The manager began by explaining in a slow droning voice about how a small landslide had occurred in the morning, as if anybody had failed to notice the rumble of the stones crashing down the hillside a few hours ago. The manager assured them that it was a common enough occurrence and they shouldn’t let it spoil their vacation. A couple of days and the road would definitely clear. Another smile and he encouraged his audience to ‘dig into’ the food which was now being served.

Ansh suspiciously examined the Chef’s special of the day. It looked like an unholy mishmash of varied sauces and melted cheese with some sort of chips thrown in to add to the confusion. A small board near the dish proclaimed it to be ‘Alfredo Corn Nachos’. A tall foreigner with shocking yellow hair walked up to the table and sampled one of the chips. The manager who was hovering nearby instantly appeared at his elbow.

“Everything to your satisfaction, sir?”

The blond foreigner smiled and held up one of the chips. “If this is a Nacho, then I’m the prince of Wales.” He smiled at Ansh and walked away, leaving the manager with his plastic smile still stuck on his face. And Ansh, who had often been accused of possessing an overactive imagination, could have sworn that he detected a hint of contempt in the unsmiling eyes of the manager.

Ansh gazed around the dining hall, examining his fellow guests. Of course, the hall was nearly half full of his family members spread out onto various tables.  Then there was the foreigner who seemed to have arrived that morning. Behind him - in the far corner of the room - sat two men deep in discussion with each other. The table beside the door was occupied by the couple – the young man and his wife (fiancé?). And approaching their table with slow determined steps was…Ashi.

He watched with detached amusement as Ashi smartly tapped her knuckles on the table.  Ansh saw her lips move but was too far away to catch her words. The young man appeared too stunned to reply for a few moments and then launched forth into a lecture of his own.  As Ashi stood there, hands on defiant hips, Ansh realized just how beautiful his sister was and how plain the young man’s fiancé (wife?) looked before her. Overactive imagination once again at work, he could almost detect waves of irritation emanating from the young woman as she resolutely looked the other way while her husband (would-be-husband? what the hell, he would have to confirm with Ashi) chatted on with Ashi. This went on for a while, at the end of which, Ashi walked away in a manner that could only be described as ‘in a huff’ and Ansh expected no less.

The blond foreigner also appeared to have followed this verbal duel with interest. Behind him, the two men who were so actively discussing something had now fallen silent and almost appeared oblivious of each other’s presence. Prolonged inspection revealed that  ‘boys’ would be a better suited term for them; they almost appeared to be of the same age as Ansh. One was rather tall and lanky while the other had a more stocky build. The taller one was slumped in his chair with his eyes shut; his lips moving soundlessly as he mouthed some words. His partner had a dreamy faraway look in his eyes as he studied the ceiling with startling intensity. And yet as Ansh got up and walked towards the door, he had an unnerving sensation of being followed by two pairs of eyes. He turned around and found the two partners to be in the same position as before, eyes shut and eyes turned towards the ceiling, but a ghost of a smile playing on their lips.

 

Ansh sat on the bank of the pond and gazed at the reflection of the setting sun in the lake. The water was now rippling as it should. As he slowly massaged his foot while his mind drifted away to an evening very like this one, nearly a year ago…

Ashi had approached him that evening and asked him to get out of Divya’s shadow. She had pleaded with him and begged him to understand her viewpoint. She knew that Divya would never be able to appreciate his sensitivity and if things went wrong, he would be the worst affected. She knew her brother deserved something better. Ansh had quietly listened to her. In the end, the only thing he had said was, “Get a boyfriend, sis. Maybe that will get you off my back.” And Ashi had never discussed about Divya with him again.

Ansh chucked a flat pebble into the pond and watched as it bounced a couple of times before sinking below the surface. Divya was never the one. He would have liked to convince himself that he hadn’t known which way their relationship was heading. After all, for the past one year, he had ignored the subtle hints and indications that he was losing Divya to this wonderful dude called Vinay, he had ignored his instincts which told him that he was heading towards a dead-end, he had ignored his sister who wanted him to stop being so ignorant. But now he could ignore no longer. He accepted the reality and let the pain wash over him, a white pain that benumbed his emotions. And yet even the pain could not completely block out his memories of Divya…

The water had stopped rippling.

Ansh snapped out of his thoughts and stared at the surface of the pond. It was impossibly still. He thought of calling out to Ashi but changed his mind and crawled to the edge of the pond. He leaned forwards, balancing his body on his hands and gazed at his reflection in the flat mirror like surface of the water.

 

And that was the point when two realities met through an unreal medium.

 

A sudden wave of ripples distorted his image in the water making his face indistinguishable.

 

She leaned into the pond; what would she see? The water had stopped rippling; the ghosts would now trouble her…

 

The water settled. Instead of his own reflection, he saw Divya’s face in the water...

 

She saw the one face she had being waiting to see. She almost cried out in relief…

 

Divya’s face? No, it was her face and yet not quite. It was the face of all that he had loved in Divya. The innocence of her eyes, the firmness of her lips, the graceful curve of her jaw, the point of her little angry nose…they were all somehow exaggerated by Ansh’s perception of her qualities. He was looking at a face that was not Divya but was what he had always wanted to see in her. He stared mesmerized at the eyes which had been gazing at him. The eyes blinked…

 

She blinked. She was confused. Was it him? She could not be sure and yet she saw the love in his eyes…

 

Divya’s face stared at him. Her lips moved, from nowhere came the voice of a little girl.

“Papa?” said the face.

Ansh nearly fell into the pond.

5. East-West

He was known as G.Gecko…

He had always thought he will see stories from the other side. Then, looking at the brown yellow mass, it transpired that he had to go through the proper way too…

                                                       ****

At station in the morning:

“Beauty, is in the nature of it, just like wet clay; always available for your ministrations. You don’t seek beauty, it comes to you on its own, gift wrapped and sealed with a kiss of love.”

Standing under the mildewed heat of the not so cool December morning, amongst a horde of unruly and despicable crowd, underneath shadows of unprotected and untrustworthy brittle metal ceiling, was not a place for romantic musings about beauty of life. Yet that is how Gulliver was. He had a tendency to see life in allusions. The picture in front of the eyes was far too inconsequential in front of the one going on behind.

Gulliver was as enigmatic you can be. His casual appearance and chilled out attitude never gave away the fact that he was a world renowned author. He often retreated to his recluse, seldom coming forth and giving interviews to the press who eagerly anticipated his interactions. In spite of being one of the most influential contemporary authors of his age, his face was still relatively unknown. A thing which he enjoyed and encouraged.

“Anonymity gives you a perspective fame seldom provides!”

This was his rationale. Yet over the years, people not recognising him lessened.  So he started moving to places where they didn’t know him. After travelling through the various countries which charted publication of several bestsellers set in different time zones, Gulliver stationed himself in India. And got enchanted by its paradox.

In India, he found that everybody literally got their fifteen minutes of fame. All that was required was to be at the right place on the right time. Yet you never got to see the phenomenon called everlasting recognition. Every next guy had a face similar to the other one. You could easily blend into the crowd and get lost like a needle in haystack. And that’s what he was in search of. Day by day, he got more and more inclined to settle down in the land of many faces and short memories.

Another reason which attracted him was the high spiritual leanings. He got fascinated by the kind of stuff these people could do with sheer hypnosis and mind power. Their philosophical currents and radical approach to life enthralled him. One of the reasons he prolonged his stay was to deeply invigorate the spiritual realms. In short he was in search of right master. And that is what brought him to the station that day.

Looking at his windswept blond, (Yellow! He would exclaim) hair, his     unusual clothes, his white skin and luxurious possessions; taxi drivers started to hound him. One guy who knew little bit of English started pestering with an illusive hope of impressing him.

‘I show you everything. India beautiful. India great. You want to see? I take you anywhere. Very cheap. Very fast. See my Vroom Vroom over there.’ He pointed towards his battered taxi. Gulliver just grunted in amusement. He headed for an honest looking guy standing disinterested in a corner.

“What’s your tariff?” he asked in a cheerful accent.

The guy did not understand. Gulliver searched for a meter in his car. He could not find one.

“What do you charge?” he asked again.

The guy spoke in his native dialect. Gulliver didn’t understand a word of it.

“Money? How much will you take to give me a tour of the country side?” he mimed at his wallet. The guy understood. Five fingers up.

“You mean five hundred, do you?”

He nodded, understanding for the first time.

“Done” he said sliding in the back seat of his car.

                                                      ****

In the taxi, on the highway:

He noticed so many people walking in sweaters and having mufflers around their necks. He wondered how these people felt cold in that barely lukewarm atmosphere. He himself was feeling stifled in his open collared shirt and cotton pants. Or was that because he came from colder regions? He still found it funny that people fretted so much about body warmth at a place which was relatively warmer…

He noticed that the driver did not wear anything. He was curios fellow, that driver. Time and again he looked in the rear-view mirror and started furtively smiling about nothing. He didn’t even seem to be a driver. He looked around at the car and was surprised to find it quite luxurious. The other taxi’s appeared in a very bad condition.

“Ah, this country! I guess I will never understand it…” He sighed to himself.

“Don’t waste your time interpreting this country sir. As someone puts it; India is chaos making sense.”

Gulliver was shocked for a second. Their eyes met in the rear view mirror. He saw his eye brows raised at his confusion. As if he expected him to realise on his own much, much earlier.

“So you speak English and have read Kipling too.” He answered coolly. It was not a question. Just plain statement.

“Oh when you mention it, do you know you both come from the same place for a similar purpose?” he answered gaily, his voice showing no trace of sarcasm.

He was just left in amazement for few minutes. He looked outside the window and saw a heavy freight truck bounce off a big pothole. Then suddenly, it all started to make sense to him.

“Who are you?” he asked, his expression remaining unchanged.

“You can consider me as one of your avid readers and consistent follower. Luckily for me, I saw your most recent TV interview a few days ago. If I do not happen to be wrong, you had given it three years back. That was before coming to this indecipherable country? You mentioned you are coming just for ground work of your next novel. But your novel also released a year ago and still you are in this same place? Till my knowledge about you goes, I don’t suppose you like to be in limelight? Then why stay at one place for so long? Speculations are going rife at your mother country.”

“What kind of speculation?” he asked brusquely.

“Oh nothing that would please you. All I can say is that if you are not going to change your base soon, people will start thronging this country beyond your understanding, to catch a glimpse of elusive you.”

“Who are you?” he again repeated, his tone relaxing

“Told you. I am an Indian who likes to read your books. Just because from there he realises what not to do. You might not know, but in some cases you tend to counter influence your audience. I guess I am a unique case. Mundanely referring, I am a software engineer at Infosys. One of the upcoming global-Indian firms, which is charting its way up on the world scenario. If I am not mistaken, it goes completely against your philosophy?”

“And what do you conclude of it?”

“Well you have never mentioned it explicitly, but beneath the under-currents you have always implied that. Western denomination. Right to overwrite the weaker section, by which you mean the east. Survival of the excellence, the parameters of which are decided by the fittest, or the ones having a current upper-hand. Your plots, characters, themes all come to one conclusion. The world is for winners. But who sets the competition and who decides upon result is quite apparent. You may not like to hear it, but howsoever good author you might be, howsoever well you might narrate the stories, still your novels Suck! They stink of reeking arrogance which is going to end this so called supremacy of west. And it is WE, the generation of people who read YOU guys who are going to bring this change.”

“Stop!” he suddenly commanded. The Honda City screeched to a halt, squealing piteously while it crunched the gravel beneath its tyres. And then echoed the clicking of door gates being opened suddenly.

                                                 ****

At the bridge overlooking the lake:

He had first seen it as one looks at the passing panorama, with an obvious indifference to the multitude of it. But then, he again twisted his head in its direction, as if attracted by some sudden recognition. As if finding a long lost friend amongst the horde of a crowd. And suddenly forgetting the conversation he was having with that unknown critic of his, he ordered him to stop.

He opened the door and stepped outside. Fresh air hit him and cool breeze whispered inside his ears. Out ahead in front of him lay the scene like an overtly sumptuous meal presented humbly on a simple platter.

The lakes water was not rippling, in spite of a small waterfall flowing into it at one end. Still, it seemed to have been held immobile by the sheer beauty of the environment. Green foliage surrounded, yet did not cover the place. Relief and ecstasy washed over his mind. He felt he was closer to his destiny than any other time.

Then, just like something small wriggling out of something bigger’s grasp, the hillside began to rumble. Then grumble. Then slither. And then not unlike the cascading waterfall few meters away, a part of mountain just came sliding down and blocked the latter part of road like a troublesome sentry. They were trapped.

He had always thought he will see stories from the other side. Then, looking at the brown yellow mass, it transpired that he had to go through the proper way too…

                                           ****

Stuck in the middle:

He looked at him, and got an inquisitive glance back. That reminded him of something else.

“If you knew me from the beginning, if you were aware of my purpose and destination, why all that pretence? Why did you not tell me right away at the station that you were not a taxi driver but a good for nothing loafer on my blood’s trail?” Sudden anger seethed inside him.

He uncrossed his legs and moved away from the car that he was leaning on to come nearer. Standing beside, and looking at the lake, he answered,

“I beg to differ on various counts. Firstly, I am not a good for nothing loafer. I am here on a personal vacation with my fiancée, and just wanted to get some kick, out of this monotonously boring place she has brought me to. That made me land at the station.”

“Secondly, I am not on, what did you put it as? Ah, your bloods trail… It was sheer happen-stance that you came to the same place at the same time. As you mentioned it in your work; in this country you just need to be at the right place at the right time. And I got lucky.”

“And thirdly, and this I would like you to answer. Tell me honestly, would you have taken my word if I had said anything different than what I did? You surely would not have hired me if I would have been behind your back. And judging by your arrogance, you certainly would not have accepted my denial to being a taxi man. As it is I was getting my life’s opportunity to convey to you what I feel, had reached epidemic urgency to be conveyed. Do you think I should have missed that opportunity?”

He looked in his direction. There was a malicious grin playing on his lips, though it didn’t seemed to reach his eyes. His eyes only had contempt. Contempt we usually show towards an incorrigible spot on a gleaming white surface. Suddenly he felt amused. Finally he got somebody who was ready to call a spade a fucking spade. There were a lot of things which could be learnt from this fellow.

“What place is this?” he asked dryly.

“It is a little nowhere called Bhandardara.”

“How far is it from Mombay?”

 He snorted in disgust.

“Guess you’ll never give up on your western arrogance. For the record, it is called Mumbai. And it is quite faraway. More so with that.” He jerked his thumb towards the landslide. Gulliver paused and looked at the brown yellow mass. The road ahead was completed blocked. With the kind of infrastructure and municipal services in this part of the world, he could only expect things to be worse.

“I think you’ll have to spend time at least for another week in this place.”

“Is there any accommodation near by?” Gulliver asked.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked to his Honda city, and started the engine.

                                              ****

Back at the hotel:

He was about to push the black tinted swivel door when he got a jerk as if somebody had nudged him behind his navel. Balancing himself against the revolving door, he saw that it was already being pushed by a broad shouldered muscular man in blue uniform. He glanced at him, and for a second their eyes met. However, that second seemed to hold his attention like suddenly a flare was ignited in darkness. But the second passed. Then he walked ahead with the other guy behind him.

It was curious feeling he got, as he deposited his bag on the reception counter. A feeling you generally get when you feel you know something which cannot be expressed within knowledgeable terms of feeling.

He noticed a crib being constructed in the far end of the alley. Suddenly he realised it was Christmas next eve. He chuckled dryly. Holy time! Looking around he felt was a decent place. The archaic interiors and tasteful decorations went well with the petite size of the place.

Just for confirmation, he asked the guy on the counter.

“Are you the person in charge of reception?”

He looked in the guy’s direction. He was scornfully smiling.

“Yes I am. How may I assist you?”

Just then somebody screamed from the end of the alley that purportedly lead to the rooms.

“Arpit!”

The guy jerked in that direction. Suddenly the colour drained from his face, and from scorn, his expression changed to that which would have seemed appropriate on pups face.

“Where the hell were you since all this time! Do you know mister that I have been searching you like crazy since past half an hour?”

“I am sorry. I am sorry. Just was out was feeling bored and you were asleep, so took a short trip…” he said while pulling her away back to the rooms. Their voices started disappearing as they went ahead.

“I don’t care. Do you know how worried…”

Gulliver just smiled to himself. Paid the amount and took the keys which the guy was giving.

“Don’t you have any bell boys or escorts?” he asked cheerily.

“Of course we have sire. Wait a minute.”

He pressed the bell and again the broad shouldered body builder came in. He directed him to escort. Nodding, he took the luggage off Gulliver’s hand and started taking him to his room.

He followed him wondering whether the guy ever cared to know which room did he want to go.

It turned out that he already knew, without anyone telling him, without even once looking at the keys…