Impression
I have spent countless nights talking to the ceiling of my room or with the pillow. In both the instances I was the one talking. I talk about my day, world politics and business strategies and all big scientific stuffs. They always hear me without a question because I always tell them the right thing.
After the day’s work when I enter my room I feel the aroma of my night lectures floating all over. Presence of my knowledgeable friends (ceiling and my pillow) has made my life so meaningful.
My room-mate, who is a human, has a kind of special relationship with space. He goes wireless on internet and mobile every night. I have seen in him a sort of fascination for short words like ‘l’me c’ for ‘let me see’, ‘tanq’ for thank you’, ‘brb’ for ‘be right back’ and there are countless. I do not like it so I keep myself away from this short-word-culture.
I am now 30 years and people call me immature. I do not like to work. I am very unique in that place. No one is like me. It was same for me in the school too. The new students spent hours looking at me, confused, every time when I talked to my books and pens. They also wondered why I did not share my tiffin or place. I had no good reason to share.
My mom and Dad are very good. They live in the same city but not with me. They say I have to learn to live my days all by myself now. I love that. We all stay together in the weekend and some times go for a movie too.
I too have a little sister. She is in London. She studies there. She often calls me and talks to me. She is the only person who takes suggestions from me. I love her a lot and she loves me too.
You know I have a dream too. One day I will become a professor and would have a big lecture hall filled with students. May be I will be a professor in London. I feel so glad whenever I think of my dream.
I am not afraid to be alone. Sometimes at night I wake up frightened. I do not remember the day but I was just 14 years then. As I was coming back from the school a furious mob with swords and guns attacked me. They pushed me and snatched my bag.
“Ye to Hindu hai” and shot me on my head. I can still feel the impression of the bullet on my head. The bullet also left an impression in my life.
I wipe the sweat on my forehead and lie down. At that moment only my breathing is important to me; only that means that I am alive. I close my eyes being motionless and open my eyes when it is morning again.
I belong Here …
I zipped my bag and that moment the message popped out on the computer screen-”Transaction complete. Delivery at the doorstep within 2 hours”. I shut the screen and pulled the power plug out. I locked my wardrobe and threw the keys on the table carelessly. My eyes were stuck at the wall clock following every second very patiently.
I went there quite long back .I used to go every day. It had always been a part of my day where I was with myself. I even remember the last day too. I took an extra hour for myself that day and assimilated all my connections and moments over there. I did not want to take them with me. I wanted them to be there. I wanted it to be there when I come next.
My hostel days began and I was processed to have a schedule for everything. I woke up at the same time every day. My breakfast, lunch and dinner were laid on the table exactly at the same time every day. My classes were governed by automatic bells which rang precisely at the knock of the scheduled second and the lights went out at the stroke of 10 every night. I obeyed it religiously.
In between I did come back home but doing things at schedule was hardwired in me now. I used to get up early and stared out of the window. Everyone else was deep asleep. At eight I used to be at the table for breakfast, just me and no one else. Dad and Mom were busy preparing for the day at office and at 21 hrs I was back to bed. I had no clue when my parents were back home. But every morning I saw them getting ready for office. Yes I used to get a call in between from Mom and Dad saying that they love me and care for me. So I had nothing to complain about. Every time I came home the same routine of my followed. Just the background was different; initially Dad and Mom were together, then just Mom, they got divorced and then I alone, Mom left for Netherlands for good. And Dad seems to be a big man now and had houses at many places over the globe.
The worst thing about my life was that nobody questioned me. My friends said that it was the best thing that can happen to a child–just do whatever u like and nobody bothers you.
They were all wrong. When I went to my friend’s place to stay I felt the difference.
You were not supposed to leave your place without asking for an excuse; at my place never I remember we all sat together for any meal.
You were not supposed to waste food; I ate how much I liked and never bothered to know what was done with the rest of the food.
The best part was they prayed together before going to bed. I saw them when they prayed. I had no clue what they were praying for.
They were all so much connected. They did bother about each other and I call it “concern”.
I was still following the second hand of the wall clock and the door bell rang aloud.
“Sir your order”…a dark tall man with a smiling face which was mostly because he was paid for doing so, handed me the keys of my ranger bike.
I put my old cap, though old but always had the sense of possessing it. I paddled my bike through the rocky terrain, up the steep slope. The way still looks so familiar to me. I knew the bend that was going to come. I braked. I looked at the rock where on the last day I scratched the words “I Will Come Back”, it is as clear as if I wrote it yesterday.
I put my bike down and sat at the edge of the cliff. The drowning sun looks so red. My memory and all my connections are all live here, breathing with me the same air. They are sitting with me by my side, all silent; we have nothing to say to each other.
I have no idea what kind of relationship I share with this place. I just know I am back home.
I spent the rest of the evening sitting there looking at drowning sun. The clouds coloured themselves red which they borrowed from the sun. And as the sun climbed down the horizon, the clouds gave back the colour, with a promise that they would get it the next day.
I reached home. Took my bag and headed for the airport. The flight took off at the scheduled time. I flew over the cliff. I could make out the rock waving me good bye.
Though I tried hard to read what I wrote on the rock today but it was impossible to read.
“I BELONG HERE”…was what I wrote and “I Will Come Back” still holds good.
Subject…Verb…n…Object
Rick is a very loving person. He has four girl friends and one boy friend. I am an equally loving person, but I love only Ria.
Ria is an Indian girl. So she is very much like India, just great. I am an American and America is great too. Ok cut the crap….I am Ben.
“I love Ria…” Rick looked at me, his mouth stuffed with food as I said it to Rick. He made an effort of his life time to swallow the food (for which I was paying… as usual). He kept staring at me as if I have said something which humans were not supposed to say.
“You said it Ben, at last.”
I had no idea what he was speaking about, and I made him that clear by the way I stared back at him.
“Ben you just said a complete sentence!!! Your sentence has a subject, verb and an object!!”
Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!! You see that. I am talking about my “love” and he is more bothered about the philosophy of my English behind my sentences. But to an extent his surprise was justified. It was long time since I spoke a complete sentence to anyone. I mean I reply in words or just facial expressions. It is not that I am a person of few words or something. It is just words and I share a bad relationship.
It started when I was a kid. My cousin once bought a trinket for which I was supposed to compliment her and obviously I did compliment. After looking at its price tag I said with excitement —“Wow Daisy you bought it for so less. You are so CHEAP!” Well this was once upon a time when I used to speak complete sentences. Here by “CHEAP”, I meant “ECONOMICAL”, a person very good at choice and price ratio.
So what did I say? Words and I make a bad couple. My cousin (obviously) never talked to me after that. Well that was not all between words and me. I remember once I said it to Mr. Haynes, our great English teacher—“I WILL meet you in your chamber Mr. Haynes in five minutes.”
Mr. Haynes gave me the look that a lawyer gives to the verdict who had committed an unpardonable crime.
“You know Son” he said to me as if I were the epitome of some kind of loggerhead society. “To denote simple futurity with a subject of first person, or to denote a promise or determination with a subject of the second or third person, or in questions in which the answer is expected as per the rule elucidated above we use SHALL and not WILL. It should be ‘I SHALL meet ….’ not ‘I WILL meet’”
Can you believe that!! Do you think any sane person was supposed to know that crap? Rather , I was not happy to speak a complete sentence ever after that. And that is how it started—“The –one-word-reply-thing”.
But where were we…yes my love for Ria.
With Rick I found it better not to discuss my feelings. Leave love he is just bothered about the structure of my sentence.
Let me do the honours then. Her name is Ria Kee-jreeh-waalh,you spell it KEJREWAL. I still cannot pronounce her name. I feel her name and face do not suit each other. Such a complicated name for such a simple face like her was no where a match…still I loved her name too(the first part).
She happened to stay at my neighbourhood and I walked with her to the college. The first day itself she asked me if I could walk her back home after the classes. “ Obviously” I said to myself. Her tender voice was like chimes . She spoke English in a kind of an accent that was very common among Indians. I never understood what she said for couple of days and latter I could.
She stayed along with her relatives here. Now this is so Indian.
She lived with her Mom’s sister’s daughter’s friend who is supposed to be very close to the family. (You see the closeness here…so amazing). She once showed me the pic of her Mom’s sister’s daughter’s friend’s wedding. On the count there were one-thirty-five members in their family. They had to take two separate photos with half of the family members each time to complete the family photograph..cool huh.!! Till now I just said about the close people. Every member was associated to a family whom they treated as their own family member and those people also associated to some family(very much similar to Ria’s family) who were all cordially invited in any major family function.
Considering the high population of India almost 10% of Indians are related to any major occasion in family.(That’s my statistics.) And the amazing part is Ria remembers every one’s name.!!
“You like Chinese food”……Ria asked, which was more like a statement I felt.
I nodded.
“So let’s go for lunch”…she said with such an innocent smile that no guy on earth could deny.
This was our first official date. Nothing could have been more global than this. An American guy dating an Indian gal in a Chinese restaurant in Britain. Our date covered almost three continents!! We ordered some kind of noodles. The food was amazing and so was her talk. She liked my silent nature and I admired her chirpy charming sweet voice. She did almost all the talking and she could not have found a better listener than me.
“So how was the food. You liked it”
“Hummmnn…nice.”
“Just nice??…I enjoy Chinese food”
“American”..I said.
“What?!”
“The food.”
“You mean to say that the food that we ordered was American and not Chinese”….she said expecting me to say “no I did not mean that” sort of thing….
“Yes…” I said
“You know there is something very peculiar with you Americans. Whatever is good, you guys believe, it originates at your home land. You guys do not believe that others can do better than you. You need the credit of every damn good thing on the universe. You know what Ben I do not believe that this was an American dish, if it were ,by now Mr. Bush would have declared a war against China to get a sort of copy right of all the Chinese dishes or else have sued China for calling an American dish as Chinese.”
Wooo…That was big. But let’s face the fact. Mr Bush has really made a bad impression all over. I did not say anything in retaliation. Be it Chinese or American I enjoyed it. But no offence I would still like to believe it to be an American dish(can’t help it….I am a typical American….).
Among the other talks Ria enquired if Rick was a gay as she finds him with a guy most of the time. I had to tell her how loving he is and how he manages his one boy friend and three girl friends (he had a break up with one recently…and how hurt he was). At last Ria gave her expert conclusion—“I think he is Bisexual.”(I seriously don’t know how that came to her mind).
Ria is a determined and was very consistent in whatever she did. And for this very reason we always went out for lunch, in the same restaurant and ordered the same dish(and co-incidentally were served by the same waiter).Her consistency was also in the fact that she always went out with me for the whole of one and a half year whenever we went out.
I knew I have already fallen for her. But she never showed me any signs for any feelings of her’s. Leave kiss we never hugged each other. When I used to walk by her and incidentally touch her I felt good. The softness of her skin was so pure and delicate that I was scared to go ahead and hold her hand. She was in her own world and yet so connected to me. It had been long when I had said Rick about my feelings. Though it was buried deep inside me but was never dead. I was silent, whenever I was with her….because that was what I had been always and all the talking was her thing.
“Hi …I am Ben. I am Ria’s classmate. Just wondering if Ria is well. Did not see her in the park while going to college”
Ria’s relative looked at me with a friendly manner and I got to know she left for India last night. She wanted me to know that but everything happened so quick that she was unable to tell me personally. She would call me when she gets there.
I did not know how to react. I did not have any contact number and never received a call from her too.
College days went by and job stuck me with more responsibilities. I was busy with my assignment and I asked mom not to disturb me till I am done.
“Ben…you have a guest son”
That was exactly something I was not in a mood at that time…..to entertain guests.
“Can I come in Ben”…a very familiar voice which I heard long long back.
No guesses it was Ria. She stood at the door clad with a long yellow coloured cloth which she once said is called “saa-riee”. She looked amazingly beautiful. No wonder I fell for her once. And five years hence she is still so beautiful that I was ready to fall for her again.
“How are you Ben?”…hardly I hear a voice with such a genuine a concern.
“ Fine…You?”
“Same. Sorry could not inform you before I left for India. I had to go immediately, Dad was not well. He is all fine now.” She took a pause as if assimilating things what she has to say. “Ben I am married.”
This infact said it all. She with a tint of her Indian shyness looked at me and blushed.
“His name is Ryan Bhattacharya. “
I gave her a sort of confused look .
“I know that is quite a heavy a name for you to pronounce” and she giggled faintly. “ He is very much like you, speaks less and keeps listening to me for hours without a single complain. He too likes Chinese and also bad at pronouncing names.”….she gave a twinkling smile of her’s as she said this. She looked at her watch. “I must leave now Ben, Just thought of telling you Hi . I would be leaving tonight for India .Take care”
She called for a cab and left.
Like a gust of wind time brought back to me all the memories. She came for few minutes and brought back the countless times we spent together. As she went she left me lonely like never before. And like always I did not know how to react.
“I love Ria” has so much meaning for me. My so called ‘complete sentence’ was complete enough to describe my feelings and I knew it when she said “He is very much like you…..”. I did notice her damp eyes holding every drop of tear back. I did notice her wiping them off as she sat in the cab.
As I stood there looking out the door …every moment flashed in my mind, that I have spent with her. I do not remember even once when I spoke a complete sentence to her. A sentence with a subject, verb and an object never seemed to me so important to me as now.
The next I handed the assignment to the editor.
“I am done with the story” I said to the editor and he looked at me as if he had seen me for the first time.
“You just spoke a complete sentence my boy”…he said after a pause and smiled back which was a rarest of kind in itself.
“Yes” I said and walked back to my table with the envelop which had my next assignment.
I opened it. It had a the details of my assignment and a flight ticket to India.
A Walk…
I opened the door and it creaked loud. But it was pleasing. It had been long when I have last heard any sound. It was dark outside, but a pleasant darkness that was surrounding me. The door behind me shut aloud. It was the call for my freedom I felt.
I walked through the boulevard. I was all lonely but it was not painful. It must have rained sometime back. I can smell it in the air. The breeze was so near to me I felt but very much humanly I could not see it though. Suddenly the gust of wind blew me aback and I felt the wind more closely than ever. I grabbed the branch of the tree near to balance. It was wet and it was the tree I planted in my tenth birthday about which I almost forgot.
“Thank You”, I said spontaneously enough even for my mind to realize that.
I am not feeling the pain within. I feel so stupid to lock myself in the room for a whole week. I do not deserve it.
My steps fell uncounted when I noticed a wide stretch of land with a small pond at one side. The silver aura was all around. The darkness was fringed magnificently by the moonlight. I never knew I lived near such a beautiful place. I was too much locked into some kind of room. I looked back. I could hardly see my house. I have left it behind. Very much behind.
Search…
I come to office and it is as empty as ever. May be I am the 4th or 5th person to be on my floor. As the hours pass by the cubicles seem to populate with software engineers. The check in card slot beeps for every entry and I as usual peep through my cubical to see whose there.
Do I expect something? Yes I do.
Now I am fully engrossed in my work and trying to find out the tables and columns. Every foot tap reaching towards me makes me peep through my cubicle again. Am I expecting something? Yes I am.
The day shall pass fiddling with some concurrent programs and jobs. I sit here calmly and do the things assigned to me. I see my watch often (a very bad habit, which u dislike especially when I did while having lunch). I see if the needles stroke six or not. Am I expecting something again? Yes, surely I am.
I will walk back to my pg after the day’s work. I will plug the ear phones to avoid all the honking around me, a very mild effort to segregate myself from the crowd. And bingo I am successful!! I am no longer the part of the crowd and then I reach home.
I see my messed up room and rearrange it. I do not know the mystery how my room gets all mixed, though every day at this time I clean it. But I do it every day without waiting for an answer to come from within.
Yes yes it is too late now and I will sleep. I lie down silent staring at the ceiling. No I am not trying to read anything or see anything. But I do it every day, i wait for the sleep element to embrace me. It makes me wait every night and I unquestioningly wait. Am I expecting someone else? Yes I am.
Who am I waiting for? And before I get the answer I find myself awake and find a new day has come.
