I have included an extract from my book, Stolen Moments. Please review and let me know the changes required.
There is a stunning resemblance, in the behavior of the wind during the Paris spring nights, Zurich summer mornings or the New Delhi February evenings. Seductive, seductive can be the perfect word to describe this behavior. The scent of the pleasant breeze, which flows during this period, has a fragrance of floral jasmine and violet spray on a women’s body, after that refreshing bath in rose water. When the offices become vacant at six, when the evening walks become longer than usual, when the florists have every reason to be happy, when the parents become more watchful, when the old want to be young and the young, well, they feel like a kite. It is this time when it is a sin being alone, it is this time, when it is a sin, being alone.
Hrishi covered the inked nib of his fountain pen with a blue shinning cap and closed his diary. He carefully kept both the things in his laptop bag, relaxed on the cushioned seats of his Mercedes, and gave a deep sigh.
He turned his wrist and checked the time in his Rolex, both metallic needles were pointing in the same direction, and like passionate lovers they had become one.
He turned his gaze to the vacant streets of Delhi, dark, silent, and sparkled by the full moon. The car turned at the Connaught circle and raced through the wide, empty lanes. Hrishi had a perfect view from the back seat. He could see the straight road ahead, enlightened by the glowing street lights.
‘Shyam, switch on the radio’, Hrishi said in a tired voice. The driver obeyed his boss dutifully. It had become a routine, for both the men in the car to reach their respective homes at mid night. The late night programs on the radio, specially the one that broadcasted old melodies were a common favorite.
The blended mixture of darkness and light and the perfect combination of melodious tunes of Panchamda and the mesmerizing voice of Kishore, always created a soothing ambience in the cozy atmosphere of the car, perfect, for the two tired bodies. In normal circumstances, a person would feel relaxed during such a drive, talking about Hrishi, he was far from a state of relaxation.
He was constantly toying with the knot of his tie, looking at the time again and again and perspiring in that luxury air conditioned car. His face had become red; like he was gripped by some fear.
The driver was monitoring the miserable condition of his boss from the rear view mirror. He asked politely, marking his every word ‘sir if you are not feeling well, we should visit a doctor first.’
‘No, no Shyam I am fine. My house would be the first place I want to go’. The driver nodded and continued driving.
He switched on the back light and started going through the thanks giving letters from small kids of his charity mission. Hrishi had an active participation in fund raising activities across the country, for the uplifting of the rural and poor. A thin smile appeared on his face, when he read a letter from a six year old girl.
Mr. Mukherjee, I am very appy in ophnage, because I anjoy a lot. But, I dont to go to school, its borring, I want like be you. But they sai, to be like you, I go to school. Did you ever go school!
Yes, Hrishi remembered, but it was long back, almost thirty-five years back. But he still remembered every little detail; the color of his uniform, the beautiful English Teacher and the sports ground. The frames from his past were flashing in front of his eyes, the frames, which reminded him of the charming days of his blossoming youth.
Those were the days, when we knew how to live, when we actually used to live. I wish I could go back and relive those magical days. Sit on the hostel terrace and chat till midnight or maybe till morning. Study together in a small room with a pin drop silence, just a day before exams and wrath of teachers and warden after performing those horrible deeds one after another. Enjoy the rain and that moment when I fell in love for the first and the last time. Yes, those were the days.
A quick glance in the mirror brought him back to his present life. He realized that nothing lasts forever, nothing. He looked into the mirror and compared his wrinkled face with his charming young looks. He was a champion tennis player in the college, but now he was overweight and didn’t have stamina to last for even a set.
The Mercedes took a sharp turn after crossing AIIMS. The noisy and congested residential area of South Delhi was wearing a scary silence in the dark. Hrishi could feel his heart beating faster than usual. His limbs were numb and small beads of perspiration were appearing on his forehead.
They crossed Mr. Mathur’s row house. Two more blocks now, the thought made him sick. He was shivering like a suicide bomber, just minutes away from the explosion.
Shyam applied the brakes carefully, avoiding that creaky noise. Hrishi was drenched now, from head to the tip of his toe. He forced a smile on his face, picked up his bag and stepped out of the car.
‘All the best, Sahib’, the driver whispered from behind. Hrishi smiled, he knew, that he knew it from beginning. He turned and smiled at the driver and nodded. ‘I need it badly today’, he said and waved to his driver. Shyam turned the car and left for the day, leaving his master alone on the door step of the mansion.
Hrishi moved a step closer to the door, with his hands and legs shaking. He raised his hands towards the doorbell, but the hesitation within him brought it back. He gathered some courage and with trembling fingers, pressed the doorbell. The irritating noise of the bell disturbed the silence of the night. The door didn’t open; Banerjee was expecting it. He rubbed his hands and again pressed the bell. He could hear the bolt opening from inside which made him even more nervous. The door was opened, but only slightly and Banerjee had to push it to enter. He looked at chandelier, then at the carpets and then turned back to look at the road, just to avoid the inevitable eye contact.
When he finally looked straight, he saw a woman sitting on the sofa and reading the newspaper. It was yesterday’s newspaper; he was able to confirm it from the picture on the front page. She was completely drowned in the article, not even blinking her eye. A smile appeared on his face. He realized that even she was trying to avoid him, just trying though.
He removed the bag from his shoulders, changed from suit to his night gown and returned back to the drawing room. She was still sitting on the sofa reading.
He advanced towards her and tried starting a gentle conversation. ‘Suchi, have you eaten your dinner?’ Then and there he knew the answer and he was prepared for it. However, there was no response. Now it was the time to create a soft corner.
‘I am really tired and hungry Suchi, haven’t eaten anything since afternoon, can we eat something?’ she was silent like a statue. ‘No sympathy for your husband?’ he said sharply, a reply was assured now. She folded the newspaper and kept it on the other side of the sofa. She kept her head slightly bowed and kept her fingers crossed on her thighs.
Hrishi looked at her with an open mouth; she was just looking like a bride. She was wearing a white colored sari with a bright red border and golden embroidery on the edges. The sari was draped as per the traditional Bengali custom. The major portion was draped on the left shoulder and a remaining portion was carefully placed on the right side, with a tight knot at the end. Hrishi’s eyes were dazzled for a second when he glanced at the gold saarkha and pola in her hand.
The partition in her hair line was very carefully filled with red colored vermillion. Her bead shaped earrings and a small nose ring were a perfect match with her dressing. The red colored bindi, exactly circular in shape was adhering to the center of her forehead. She was flawless, absolutely stunning, and unbeatable in her choice of accessories that night.
Then, he looked at her wet, drooping eyes, which were tired of looking at the entrance for endless hours. The black eye liner below her eyelids was wiped out by the flood of tears, making dark lines on her face. Her eyes were drained of tears and her spirit was deprived of hope. Banerjee was now feeling ashamed of himself.
She parted her lips softly and said, ‘Why should I have sympathy for you, when you don’t care for me anymore?’ She had conveyed her message clearly to Hrishi.
He moved closer, kneeled down like a pupil to ask for an apology from the teacher. ‘Suchi I am really sorry, the meeting took longer than I anticipated. You know how things work; I tried my best to wind it up, but failed in doing so. I am ashamed of my careless behavior today, but you know, you very well know it was not intentional’, said Hrishi, all the while looking down at the cashmere carpet.
The pupil modestly elevated his head and observed his teacher. His eyes were pleading for reprieve, but she was belligerent to punish him. Hrishi parted his lips to say something, but gracefully glued them. The man, who held a reputation of being invincible in board room, was bent on his knees, in his own living room.
‘Hrishi, I am waiting since evening. You had promised, that we will have the dinner together. I hope you understand the meaning of being together. I have learned my lesson though, I would never trust you again ’, she wiped her watery eyes as she said that.
‘I understand Suchi, but ....’
‘That all right Hrishi’, she said raising her flattened palm, requesting him to be silent.’ I know you are busy man and you can have other commitments. Now the answer for your first question, yes, I have eaten my dinner. For the second one, not we but you can definitely eat the food that I had cooked for you, just for you.’ Her words were pinching him, but he knew he deserved this treatment.
She deserted the drawing room and began ascending the stairs, which directed to their Bedroom. She turned back and wished him with tears in her eyes, ’Happy Anniversary Hrishi, Happy anniversary’, and then, she turned away.
Hrishi’s eye followed her as she climbed those stairs, gradually parting away from him. A thin smile appeared on his face, when he noticed the portion of the sari with a knot was swaying sideways like a pendulum. He could hear the jingling sound of the anklets, which she was wearing. She was hurt; it was visible in her walk. Every step she climbed was more detrimental than the previous. The jingling music normally emulates merriness; but that night, it was beckoning her grief and sorrow. Her image gradually evaporated from his eyes and the music, slowly faded away from his ears. There was a silence in the hall, the silence after or before the storm that he didn’t knew.
He ambled along the dining table, gazing at the dishes assorted on it. The table was decorated like a cake, with variety of Bengali delicacies. There was hot and crispy fish fry, along with mutton cutlets served with mint flavored relish mixed with garlic paste, dal fry, rice fried in butter and fish curry. The aroma of fish consummated his nostrils, reminding him that he was famished. There was a strawberry pudding in the centre, the cherry on top.
He concluded the survey and adjusted on a dinning chair. He was surprised that the food was hot. Hrishi recollected his promise; today we will eat everything hot and fresh. She had accomplished her side of the promise.
Suchitra had cooked everything keeping his taste in mind. All the while Hrishi was thinking that she didn’t deserve to be alone on their 25th Wedding Anniversary.
He ascended the stairs towards the bedroom, opened the door sluggishly, and entered inside. She was resting on the king-size bed with her back facing the door. The table lamp on her side was switched on, the only source of light in the room.
He secured the surplus portion of the bed and continued observing her. Then he moved closer and brought his left hand around her, she defiantly turned towards him. He utilized his other hand to sweep the disorderly tresses from her face and then, they looked into each other’s eye, for the first time that night.
Suchitra’s face was visible in the gloomy light of the table lamp. He continued looking into her soaked, strained, and sympathetic eyes. He could fell the warmth of her breath and aroma of her scent. He had so much to tell her, so much to confess, but he did not have words for it.
A tear rolled down her cheek, Banerjee nudged closer and kissed on her forehead, ‘Happy Anniversary to you too’, he switched off the lamp and retorted to his orientation. Banerjee lingered entire night, for her one glimpse, but she made certain that would not happen. Both perceived, that they were awake, but they, did not speak a word.
Hrishi had swilled six cups of black coffee, to keep himself awake throughout the morning call with the customer. After the call was completed, he retreated to his cabin and canceled all the appointments for the next two hours. He slumped into the chair and drowned his face into his hands.
Hrishi massaged his eyes tenderly with his palms, to garner some respite of the feverish sensation in the eyelids. He then rubbed some Iodex on his forehead, for the agonizing headache. He closed his eyes, adjusted the knob of his chair, and lounged, like a tourist on the beach.
His mind was occupied with the events of the last night. He understood, deep within his heart, that he required a miracle to impress her.
Hrishi recollected the moments, when he had to bend his back to entice her, following a friction or a lover's tiff.
He had doctored all the different methods to beguile her, in the course of his married life. He had written poems, sent her flowers, made breakfast, and bought her gifts.
He revolved his swivel chair and drew the blinds curtaining the window. He inspected the bustling traffic on the road, the objects appeared microscopic from the eighth Floor of his office. The road was a play ground for multiple events; a street hawker vending chats, a panicked man running after the bus, kids holding their hands and crossing the road, bikers piercing through the traffic recklessly .
Hrishi relished this view. The commotion on the road often diverted his attention from his stressful routine.
He cited a young girl crossing a road and a boy swaying at her, from the other edge , standing by a jet black AUDI. She dashed towards the boy and hugged him. The boy kissed on her cheeks and enveloped her in his arms. He gradually released her, but kept petting her hair locks with his fingers. Hrishi waited, for him to open the door of the car, but they coursed towards the bus stop.
A bus halted on the road, which interrupted his inspection and the couple dwindled from his eyesight. When the bus left, the stop was vacant again. He reposed on his chair and closed his eyes; a smile appeared on his face, after a few minutes.
The Monsoons had arrived in the city of Mumbai- traffic jams, dented roads and persistent showers had made travelling a nuisance for the public. The pedestrians were tormented by the heedless honking and drivers were frustrated by the crawling automobiles.
A young, anxious looking lady was standing jerkily on the roadside, clutching an umbrella with her left hand and gesturing for a lift with her right. She was wearing a sleeveless white gown with pink polka dots. Her umbrella was doing little to guard her from the heavy downpour. She was partly drenched, water dripping on the exposed parts of her body, from her long dark tresses.
Her eyes would light up at every approaching taxi and she would wave her hand furiously like a bird flapping her wings. She had spent more than thirty minutes on that spot, looking for a conveyance; her patience had worn out. She was thoroughly drenched from head to toe. She pressurized her palm with her nails due to the shivering sensation. The darkening clouds and heavy downpour had gripped her with fear. She appeared to be delicate and was not adaptive to such an extreme situation. The only thing that mattered to her was to reach home safe and sound. She looked at the menacing traffic with sympathetic and pleading eyes.
An old English rover halted in front of her. The driver unlocked the door for her and she reluctantly accepted the invitation from a stranger. She bent her head and entered inside the antique English model. The warm environment inside the rover was a much needed relief.
The driver shamelessly utilized every opportunity to catch a glimpse of her. She was cuddled up in the corner of the seat, with her hands draped on her upper body, forming a cross. Water was dripping from her hair on the velvet cushioned seat, but the stranger was least bothered. He observed that her face had turned white and could listen the chattering of her teeth.
The stranger stretched his left hand and picked a blazer from the back seat. He offered the Blazer to the lady; she accepted politely. She removed the wet tresses from the front of her eyes and thanked him. He looked into her captivating eyes, for the first time in his life. She was special, though everything about her was ordinary. He visited her colony frequently after that; always giving unsatisfactory excuses to her. His progress was uniform, since that rainy day.
After six months the lady received a telegram from him, 'Hello mam! Its Valentine’s Day and I don't want you to be aloof, your favorite driver will be there at six, please be ready'. The blushing smile on her face certified the date.
Clouds from the days of his yore gradually evaporated as he opened his eyes.
Thanks for your patience, please let me know your opinions.
