Saturday 28 July 2012

Cocoon


I wish there was a cocoon for me, where I could retreat,
my sanctum of peace and quiet, a shell that envelopes me,
far away from all the intrusion and the incessant heat,
that singes and burns the very marrow, never letting it be.

A place where I can shut my eyes and shut out the world,
my own version of a paradise, untouched and unsullied,
where I imagine the glorious beauty of my wings unfurled,
as I stretch them to fly away, full of colour and grace, unhurried.

Pretend that this ugliness outside does not even exist,
the barbs and the glares bounce off the shell that protects,
an invisible force field that protects, an impenetrable mist,
a cloak that builds me up bit by torn bit and resurrects. 

But I did not count on the inquisitive hands that lift me off,
and shred every last vestige of protection, leaving me broken,
and bleeding, a budding butterfly that has been formed in half,
torn and anguished as life’s hands have dealt cruelty unspoken

This cocoon of mine was just a mirage of a crazed insane mind,
a place that is just outside my grasp, the oasis that I seek to find.

Sunday 8 July 2012

Two Days in the Life of - A narrative in three parts - Part III


He chose to wait in the living room. Each moment seemed to drag like a raindrop gathering and hanging, waiting to fall, breathless in anticipation and a lifetime in passing. He could hear the sound of cutlery clinking in the kitchen and imagined her putting the plates away. It brought a smile to his face – a woman in his kitchen? That was a first, other than his mom of course. At that thought, his smile widened as he thought how his mother would react.
His thoughts wandered like a puff of cloud blown around by the wind, never staying in one place, caroming off everything that it touched, never settling, and always hovering. He realized with a start that the sounds had died down from the kitchen and an unnerving silence hung heavy. She had not come out of the kitchen. He debated on whether to go and see what was happening, better sense holding him back at each thought. Finally all good sense was damned as his curiosity got the better of him and he rose as quietly as he could so that he would not startle her.
He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, transfixed as he saw her resting her head on the cupboard door, arms held stiffly at her sides like she had been placed in restraints. Eyes closed, she had not heard him come in and was lost in her own world, a private hell that he was not part of but could see its impact as she passed through every hot stinking mess. Shudders shook her, rocking and buffeting her until he thought she must fall. Still, he stood there, unable to move, an alien in his own home. Finally the shudders seemed to subside, now replaced by racking sobs as the agony seeped out, black and ugly, swamp mud oozing out onto fresh green shoots of spring.
He could not hold back any longer and moved closer, still trying to stay away, a moth that circles its fatal attraction. His hand rose to touch and comfort, hesitant and drawn, unsure in its direction, drawing back just at the point of contact, afraid of the impending reaction. Finally, with all the courage he could draw on, his hand travelled the distance to her shoulder, settling there like a bird on a wire, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. She froze at the touch, completely still and taut as the wire he was settled on. Then, she suddenly whipped around, her eyes half crazed, agony around the edges of what was a blaze of anger that threatened to crucify him. He felt raw and exposed in his infringement. His hand fell to his side and without a word, he turned and walked away.
Not knowing what to do, he felt like an intruder in his own home. Taking his keys, he let himself out of the house, gently closing the door. Eyes unseeing, still held by a blaze quite unlike any he had ever seen, he walked on, legs on auto pilot as he struggled to free his mind. Head bent, he plodded on, thinking that he had never been exposed to emotions so raw in all his sheltered life. A dawn was breaking, orange against the sky and ethereal as it lit the world clashing with the yellow of the halogen streetlights that were still on. People were up and moving, still half asleep as they struggled with their daily routines. He was oblivious to all of this as he walked on, trying to make sense out of nothing. A sudden squeal of tires woke him from his reverie and he suddenly realized that he was in the middle of the street, right in front of an irate driver who was bestowing a string of curses and the finger on him. Without a word, he crossed the street, trying to find his bearing. He realized that he had come quite a way, probably been walking about an hour in his daze. He debated about walking back and then thought the better of it and flagged an auto to head back to his apartment and of course, her.
He did not know what he would say or do when he saw her. He thought of all the excuses that he could make up and discarded each even before he thought it through. He could only imagine her anger at his intrusion and her unforgiving glare at his inane mumblings of do – goodedness. While he was trying to think of what to say in vain, he realized that he had reached his apartment and the auto driver was wondering why he was not responding to his request for money. Quickly paying up and not haggling over the change, he made his way into the apartment, into the elevator that seemed to be on overdrive as it hurried to his floor without a pause for once.
As he walked down the corridor to his door, he noticed that it was still locked, unwelcoming and forbidding in its silence, half lit by the glare of the lamp in the hallway. He stopped uncertainly outside his door and after a long pause, lifted his hand to ring the doorbell. Suddenly realizing that she might be asleep and that he would disturb her, he decided to use his key to let himself in. He started turning the key in the door and was surprised to hear the door being unlocked from the inside. With a sudden swing, the door opened and she stood there, teary eyed and desolate, a small lost urchin. His heart turned over as he said, ‘I am sorry ….’ His words trailed off as she suddenly broke down and rushed in to hold him. The shock of the contact of her body rooted him rigid to the spot where he stood, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. She had buried her face in his shirt front and he could hear her sobs and feel her tears as they seeped in through his shirt.
After a time, she sensed his rigidity and his distance and lifted her head to look at him, accusing and blaming. He wondered what his crime now was. She said, ‘Where did you go and leave me alone?’ This brought a fresh burst of sobs and she retreated into his shirt front. His heart turned over, his arms thawed and rose to hold her, loosely comforting, unsure in their solace and support. There was none of the blaze now and his pent up frustration released itself in a sigh that shook him as much as it did her. Suddenly embarrassed, she withdrew and his loose embrace broke as easily as it had formed. She stood a little distance away, not saying a word.
The silence stretched out until it became intolerable, hurting in its loudness, the walls rebounding with words unsaid, emotions unbalanced. Neither could find it in them to make a move or say anything. And it went on, each standing in their own corner, the ring deserted, not sure whether this is a battle or peace. Unable to bear it, she turned and made as if to go into the kitchen. He found his voice finally, the one that seemed to have gone away on a far away journey of its own when he needed it most. He raised his hand as if to stop her and said, ‘I am sorry about before’ She turned around and looked at him, eyes still brimming, and said ‘I am sorry for the way I reacted, you meant well and I turned on you when you were trying to help’ He did not know how to respond to that and stayed where he was. She continued as if he did not need to respond, ‘I came and you had left. I waited and waited, not knowing what to do. I was afraid that you had left and I had nowhere else to go.’
‘I had to get some air and clear my head’, he said and threw his keys on the table in the corner. The keys slid and fell off the table with a thump. Both made as if they would go to retrieve the keys and both stopped, started again and then stopped. He laughed, grateful for the respite that the keys gave from the situation. And moved to pick up the keys and place them on the table. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked. Shaking her head, she offered to make them some coffee. ‘I’ll help you’ he said as they moved to the kitchen. He filled the percolator as she took out the cups. As they waited for the coffee to drip, she said ‘It is going to be seven o’clock. Don’t you have to go to work?’ He realized he had not given a single thought to his normal life and the routine that he used to follow. Shaking his head, he realized, he could not bear to go to work, not like this, not leaving her behind. Without bothering to explain his feelings to himself, he went to get his phone and messaged his boss that he was unwell and would not be able to come into work that day.
As he nursed his cup of coffee, sitting on the cane chairs in the balcony, overlooking the street that seemed to be rapidly filling up with vehicles like a bottle into which the cars and scooters were being poured into and shut tight, his eyes strayed over to her. His mind which had kept away its inquisitiveness till now, returned in a storm cloud of questions which buzzed around his head like a swarm of angry bees until he was sure even she could hear the questions resounding in his head. Foremost among them was the most simple one but the most difficult to answer - what was he doing with her? She seemed to sense his uncertainty and smiled a tentative answer that did nothing to settle the buzz in his head. He drained the last dregs of his coffee and realized that she had not had more than a couple of sips of hers. ‘Heartburn’ she explained.
He collected the cups and went in. As he rinsed the cups and put them away, the door bell rang. The milk man had come as had the newspaper and his maid brought them both in as he let her in. A middle aged widow with two kids of her own, she was silent and methodical in her work, almost fading into the wall paper as he got ready for work each day. He told her that he was not going into work and apart from a nod, there was no reply. She started in the kitchen, making his eggs as she was used to. He walked in and told her to make an extra omelet and apart from a raised eyebrow, there was no response.
He walked to the balcony and found her asleep in the chair in the shade. He decided to let her sleep since she had been awake for most of the night and went in to have a shower. He changed into a tee shirt and tracks and came out to find that his maid had brought a sheet from his bedroom and covered her. Again, no questions asked though she knew that he had no sister or girl friend. He went in and thanked her, not knowing how to explain a woman’s presence in the house and finding it was not necessary. The maid laid out breakfast and coffee in a pot and left in a short while.
He waited for a while for her to wake up. The sun was coming up and in a short while, she would be in the sun. He decided to try and carry her inside without waking her up. Without debating the reason behind this mad thought, he gently put one arm behind her knees and another behind her shoulders and lifted her up. He walked into the bedroom and suddenly froze as her head whipped to one side and she muttered something unintelligible. As she settled down, her face turned into his shoulder and her hand clutched at his tee front, a child like grip, firm as if holding on for support. He lay her down on the bed and tried to dislodge her hand from his tee only to find that she would not let go. The more he pulled, the harder her grip became.
Finally he gave up and decided to sit next to her hoping that she would settle down and loosen her grip soon. As he sat, his gaze kept returning to her face, studying her as she slept. After a while, his eyes grew heavy as he succumbed to his weariness. At some point, he must have lay down on the bed and gone to sleep.
He woke up with a start after what seemed like an eternity. His mouth was dry and there was a light sweat on his forehead. He suddenly realized that there was a weight on his arm and turned to see her sleeping on his arm, her hair flung partially over his chest and partially over his face, a gauze duvet that smelled of her. He breathed deeply, drawing in the smell, as if to store it for the years to come. He lay there for some time like that liking the feel of her weight on his hand. Then, feeling guilty about taking advantage of her, he slowly eased her off his hand and got out of bed. He sat there on the edge looking back at her. Suddenly, she flung her hand out as if searching for something, him? Not finding anything, the hand settled down near her face, framing it in repose. Her hair was blown aside by each breath, a silken curtain that played hide and seek with him. His gaze moved to the soft down of hair on her arm as it stirred with her breath, his insides a knot. Catching himself, he stood and walked out of the room.
He poured himself some coffee and read the newspaper for want of anything better to do, all the while looking at his bedroom door for any sign of her. He could have been reading Greek for all that it mattered at that moment. The coffee cup was followed by another as he waited for the clock to reach the moment when she would wake up. He went in to put the cup in the sink and returned to see her sitting on the sofa, eyes still sleepy but clearing up. She had brushed her hair which had settled down somewhat and had washed her face. He found a couple of sleep lines on her cheek, like a map, endearing in its naturalness. She smiled as he asked if she was hungry. They made a small meal of the omelet and then settled down onto the living room sofas.
Hesitantly she asked him if she could shower and as he gave her a fresh towel, he realized that she did not have a change of clothes. He asked if she wanted one of his tee shirts. She replied that she was comfortable with what she was wearing and went into shower. He stood there outside the bath room not knowing what to do. He broke out of his reverie as he heard the shower being turned on and went out into the living room. Switching on the TV, he flipped through channels meaninglessly, his mind not catching anything worthwhile. After what seemed like the 100th time that he had passed a particular channel, he switched off the television and walked out into the balcony. Standing in the sun, he looked at nothing in particular as he struggled to decipher what was happening to him.
He heard her coming back into the room and walked back in. She seemed settled and composed now as if she had decided something while she was in the shower. Her face was calm but with a curious absence of the emotion that he had seen so far. She stood up as he came in and said ‘Thanks for letting me sleep. I am sorry if I was heavy.’ He realized with a start that she knew that she had slept on his hand. Maybe she had woken up sometime when he had been asleep and had noticed but had gone back to sleep. ‘It was nothing’ he muttered, not sure of what to say, the uneasy discomfort of the situation weighing on him heavily while she seemed to be comfortable and accepting of it.
She said she was hungry and asked him if he could get her a pizza with lots of olives. Relieved at having something to do, he took the keys and headed out to the pizza shop around the corner. As he walked down, his thoughts kept returning to how she had looked, almost withdrawn and isolated. His steps quickened as he realized that he wanted to get back to her quickly. He walked into the pizza shop and realized that a bunch of school kids were in there trying to decide what to order. He fidgeted around, waiting for his turn to order, his irritation mounting as the kids found it hard to decide on what to order. After what seemed like an eternity, he found himself at the counter and ordered quickly. He sat down in a corner and drummed his fingers as his impatience got the better of him. Some of the school kids stared at him and whispered among themselves giggling at some private joke at his expense. He looked away, not bothered for once by their scrutiny. Finally the pizza came and he grabbed it and nearly ran out. He walked back as quickly as he could.
Arriving at the apartment, he rang the door bell, preferring to have her open the door instead of opening it himself. After a second ring, he suddenly thought that she might have fallen asleep again and let himself in with his key. The living room was deserted with no sign of her. The balcony door was shut and the drapes drawn. The kitchen was spotless. She had put everything away and wiped it all down. He went into the bedroom and found the bed neatly made, the covers turned up and tucked in.
There was no sign of her. It was almost as if she had not been there at all. He stood rooted to the spot in the entrance to the bed room, not knowing what to make of it. He suddenly realized that he was still holding onto the pizza and put it down in the kitchen. He felt that he was growing crazy, a circle of crows wandering in his head, black and somber in their lunacy. Was it all his crazed imagination so far? Did she even really exist? He went into the bath room and was almost relieved to find a long hair in the wash basin and a few more in the shower. She had been there. The crows disappeared and his anxiety took over. Maybe she had just gone for a walk and would soon be back.
He waited for a while in the living room, his anxiety mounting as there was no sign of him. Now his mind was at fevered pitch, the crows back in full caw as they screamed in his head. He decided to wait in the balcony, hoping to catch a sight of her as she came in. The afternoon sun beat down on him as he stood there, eyes seeking, searching for the face that had stamped it’s familiarity in his brain in what seemed like a lifetime. When there was still no sign of her, he suddenly thought that she did not really know the apartment and might have got lost. He ran down onto the street, frantically searching for her. As he stood outside the apartment gate, the traffic streamed by, a steady trickle that was mounting as the offices shut down and the worker ants made their way back to their holes.
When there was still no sign of her, he decided to take his car and go out for her. He drove around the place, stopped in every nook and corner and looking for the familiar sight. After an hour or so of searching in the vicinity, he suddenly remembered her stalled car. Maybe she had gone back for it. He drove to the point where they had left the car only to realize that the mechanics had towed it off. The mechanic slip was still in his wallet and so she would not have been able to go back for it. Even so, he called up the mechanic’s only to find that no one had come for the car, anyway, it would take them an additional day to fix it.
Losing all hope, he drove back to his apartment. Street lights had come on and were casting their long shadows into the dark that was slowly settling in. As he reached the apartment, some strange irrational hope drove his feet forward and he ran up the stairs not content with waiting for the elevator. He reached his floor panting and heaving for breath, legs trembling with the effort. His hope drove him to run the steps down to his apartment. Even as the light at the end of the tunnel faded away into pitch darkness, he could see that she was not there and his legs gave way. He sank down to the floor, his mind empty save for one thought – that he had lost her. The insane urge to put his head into his hands and cry almost overcame him, dark shadows of desperation hovering like vultures on the fringes of his mind, picking at what little hope there had been, leaving behind the bleached white bones of the undeniable truth that he had to face.
After what seemed like an eternity of sitting there, he found the strength to rise off the floor and walk into his apartment. His next few hours passed in a daze where he was stuck in a quick sand of inertia, his mind relentlessly playing back the last days events over and over again. He finally fell asleep on the couch with lights on full blaze.
The ring on the door woke him with a start and he ran to the door only to find it was the maid looking disapprovingly at his disheveled appearance. He dragged himself through the motions of brushing, shaving and showering and came out to the dining room to find that the maid had left breakfast on the table as she usually did. As he sat down to eat, his eyes were drawn to a beige envelope against the glass of juice. The maid must have placed it there. He saw that there was no address or name on it, must have been hand delivered. He opened it to find four words that spelt the finality that everything else since last evening had not done “Thank you for everything”. There was nothing more, no name, no address.
In a fit of inspiration, he went to the hospital where she had got her tests done and asked for her address. After a lot of persuasion and a healthy bribe, he got the address. He drove there like a man possessed. Only to be told by the landlady that she had cleared out of the house yesterday.
It was as if she had wiped all traces of herself clean. He made a call to the phone company to get the details of the call that she had made from his phone the previous day. Calling her folks, he could not introduce himself at all beyond an inane “colleague at work”. They promised to pass on a message to her, not convinced who he was.
Finally, not knowing what to do, he drove into office and found a mountain of work that had piled up across the past couple of days. He worked like a man possessed, crazily submersing himself in work to drive away all other thoughts. When he finally looked up, it was past midnight. The office was deserted. He drove back, strangely reluctant to go to his apartment. Finally he just drove to a nearby hill and parked on the hilltop and sat there in the car staring at the city below. The blinking lights, looking like so many fireflies, did nothing to stop him feeling completely and utterly lost. As the tears finally broke through the dam and coursed down his face, he knew his life would never be the same again.