Episode 7.1 (When Frodo flew......Alas!!!)

P.S. : The following is a slight detour from the normal course of the story and should as well be printed after Episode 8. However due to some reasons, its printing was essential. May the readers know Frodo the way Prashant and Karuna did.

They say turtles live for over hundred years. The paradox was self emanating from the situation no one had wanted and no one had foreseen. It was only minutes before they would discover the lifeless ‘Frodo’ floating in silent peace in his blue tub; the water muddy probably with his last act of self loathing or his first act of silent disapproval.
Wait! I never told you about ‘Frodo’ then! Did I??

************
Prashant was brushing his teeth in his flat that morning, admiring the new strands of goatee that had grown overnight after he had shaved and cologned. There was an inherent laziness in this act. He used to call it ‘calculated precision’, but the taxonomy was invalid. It was just dismal laziness. Not far from where he was staying, Karuna was tending her hair in front of the mirror humming softly “Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna…” oblivious to the death which had silently crept into the blue tub which lay quietly disarrayed near the window.
***********
A few minutes later Prashant received the call. Karuna was crying at the other end. What he heard did not make much sense. He heard the muffled words ‘Frodo’, ‘dead’, ’why’ and ‘Fuck’. He stopped the narcissism, splashed his face with cold water, rinsed quickly, bespectacled himself and ran. It is not that there were no taxis outside. It was just that running seemed the perfect escape. It consumed him with exhaustion tripping his brain from thinking too much. For a moment he cursed himself for the selfishness and his hatred for reality. The scene however could only be delayed but not avoided.

He reached outside flat 4/110 of Juhu Tarang building and rang the bell with a heavy heart. In some ways he had anticipated the gloom inside the hall but as he entered, the intensity of the loss hit him tremendously. Karuna sat near the window staring into her phone. He walked silently up to her. He wanted to say all sorts of comforting things but he ended up saying
“C’mon! It was just a turtle!!”
He knew he had delivered the most impolite condolence. She slapped him in his face and clung to his shirt. The crying was inevitable; the loss was not!
“How?” he asked putting a hand around her back.
“I don’t know. Why?” He had no answer.
“Maybe God works in mysterious ways and they are stupid most of the times.” She answered the question she herself had posed in silent dejection. It sure was a ponderous question. Intuition is at such a handicap at such times that the mind forgets see through things.

“Let’s go out for a walk. It will help you feel better!” his consolation continued.
“I don’t need a fucking excuse to escape the scene. Don’t you get it? Frodo is gone. The flying Frodo is no more. He has probably flown aw…..ay too….fa..r” she tried to shout but her words failed her. But now that she had got all verbal, the fact that the tiny turtle was dead was all the more hard hitting.

“I need to inform Aksu but I can’t do it on phone.” She sat fiddling with the phone but not gathering the courage to make the dreadful call.
He sat clinging her close to her thinking about the day he had first met Frodo; the day Karuna, Aksu and Mala had painted Frodo’s shell with nail paint; the day he had held Frodo on his palm and he had poked his head out of his tiny shell , slowly turning it in all directions like a visitor exploring a newfound city; how he had spread his arms and legs like a bird making his first attempt to fly out of his grasp- that was the day he had named him ‘the flying Frodo’. He remembered his quick recoil in his shell as he had tapped him on his forehead. ‘Ahh!! Shy Frodo!!’. So many names seemed nominal now that the face behind them was lost in water. He felt an itch and remembered how Frodo used to dig his tiny nails in his hand as he looked for a stable substrate to walk upon. He laughed in futile irony!

“Fuck this! I am leaving!” He had tears in his eyes as he said this.
“I’ll come with you.” They did need an escape from all this but the silently floating Frodo in his blue tub was probably smiling beneath his shell.

Prashant scanned the room one last time. At one end was Frodo swaying in his humble abode and at the other end on the table lay the yellow cylindrical bottle titled ‘ToTo Food’ staring in blank dismay at the sudden death of someone it had so happily fed and probably tried to feed during the last minutes as some uneaten pellets of ‘ToTo Food’ lay untouched in the blue tub.
****** end of episode***

Their Story(Episode 7)

A train, a journey and the train journey

“I smell smoke!” Karuna was sniffing all around.
“I smell awesome…!!”
“I mean I think someone is smoking.” She retaliated but her nose was still sniffing.
“Ooh!! And I thought we were playing that game where we are supposed to tell how we smell.”
“Have you always got to be this sarcastic?”
“Have you always got to be so naïve?”
There was some silence for the time being. He enjoyed toying with her. It granted him a sense of carefree dominance. He enjoyed being on top.(Ahh!! You sick witted morons!!)
“By the way, do you know that there is a Rs. 200 fine or 6 months of imprisonment or both if you are caught.”
“Yes. I created the punishment the day I created cigarettes.”
“Really!! This bad? You can be serious sometimes. I won’t elope. When I said you were funny , it doesn’t mean that you attempt a joke at a funeral.”
Silence.
The window showed various scenes as the Ahmednagar-Mumbra Express zoomed through mountains, rattled over bridges stopping occasionally at a station or two every forty five minutes. Prashant sat huddled up inside a blanket reading ‘Atlas Shrugged’ sipping tea from an IRCTC cup and cursing the tea maker with every sip. Karuna sat leafing through the pages of a Biopharmaceutical magazine.
This journey was different. Very different from the one they had undertaken four years ago. She knew he retorted to jokes to say something for he was out of words most of the time. They both sensed it, however no one spoke a word about the uneasiness that had distanced them. Something was very wrong.
“I want to tell a story.” She began by closing his book and keeping it on her side. He gave a nod of dissent.
“You really think Ayn Rand is more interesting than I am?” she was complaining.
“Well!! Intelligent…yeah sure…!! So, what story? It better be about the hot chick who lives across the apartment.”
She smiled. There was no hot chick across the apartment. There was no apartment either.
“Well… no it’s about a train journey.”
“Oooh!! Déjà vu already!! Isn’t it a little inappropriate?”
“No.”
And she began a story about a train and the journey that they both had forgotten.
“Once upon a time….” She had merely started when he cut her short.
“Why do all your stories begin with the same fricking line, Grandma?”
“Fuck off!! Get back to your aunt Ayn Rand.” She started sulking. He laughed, helped his hand across her back and said “Well….actually she is not as hot as you are!! So the story yeah…”
She sulked some more.
“Should I get some specialist in here?” he said with a yawn and a wriggle.
“No! a ‘sorry’ will do the job…” she made a face.
“Ehh!! You are getting no sorry out of me. So the story….”
“So! There was this guy who is traveling with his love interest in a train with his cousins Vyom, Rashi and Reshma.”
He had to cut her short for he could not stop grinning.
“You know they are actual people. I mean you know Vyom, Rashi and reshma are actually my cousins. You could not come up with better names?”
“Well, Rashi is fine but Vyom seems kind of out of this world and Reshma.., don’t even get me started on that!!”
“Yeah! It sure is. Like you never watched Captain Vyom. It’s uber cool…..!!”
She was eyeing him with a constant scrutiny. He stopped talking. “Very well continue…Should I get some napkins? Just in case the ending is not so convenient. Well at least stop staring. Alright I won’t speak no more.”
“You know what? Fuck you!!” She looked infuriated. Her ears were red and it seemed that she would happily kill Prashant.
“You know what? When taken literally, it is a very pleasant curse….!!!” The grin refused to leave his face. He had won this one fair and square. Even she was smiling now. She sipped from the can of Frooti until it made an irritating gurgling sound. She continued looking out of the glass window.
“Well all I can see outside is people shitting in the fields. Its an unpleasant sight for me. I am wondering which of the semi nudes caught your attention!!”
She punched him in his stomach, drew the curtains and began.
“Look I will tell you the story only under the condition that you do not interrupt me. Deal?”
Prashant nodded in silent approval. She began quietly. He knew he had to be very careful now. He could sense the after effects of the punch in his stomach. The punch had been impregnated with a sense of purpose. No more jokes. He promised himself. Suddenly the air conditioned compartment grew colder. She huddled closer in the blanket. He could smell the perfume she was wearing. He liked it. It was a gift to her from a guy who had a crush on her. It smelt a little of lavender. It had a small delightful aroma of lilies and dry twigs and a lot of antiseptic. He was laughing in his head for he smelled ‘antiseptic’. Ahh!! The healing touch of love…!!
His concentration kept oscillating between the vociferous discussion on the political situation in Bharatpur and Karuna’s mellow narration of the story he felt he remembered from somewhere. It was the story of a train journey much like today. It was about a couple so madly in love who could not keep their hands off each other. It was all mellow and beautiful that it seemed out of the world, albeit so familiar.
The evening was drawing to a close as she came to an end of the narration. She concluded saying:

“……………and he looked at her as the wind blew her hair revealing a small pimple on her forhead. She looked around and saw him staring at the small bulge as it was a stain of imperfection upon a satin cloth. She grew conscious in the presence of Vyom, Rashi and Reshma.
She was still smiling at a joke that he had cracked a minute ago. She heard a whisper: “I wish I could always keep you this happy!!!” and she understood everything. She had known who had whispered and she knew no one else had heard it.”

Karuna finished placing the coffee cup on the stand beside. “So what do you think?” she asked Prashant.
“Really? They were traveling in second class sleeper? You said that the wind was blowing her hair. Right?” He looked at her inquisitively as if he had made a million dollar observation.
“Ohh!! Crapp..!!”
**************************************
He had taken the evening off. They had not spoken since they had reached Ahmednagar.He was taking a stroll along the tracks. Walking, thinking, pondering over what went wrong and when? He could hear the distant roar of train engines leaving the platforms nearby. The phone rang.
It was Karuna. He laughed soundlessly. He answered the call.
“You know what? The story and the characters were not fictional. They were….”. There was a distant roar and none could hear either. She was confused as to where the hell was he?
He remained silent. She could only hear him breath heavily. He had known it all along. It was their story. He knew where she was getting at. His silence was unbearable. She had to know for sure. She asked him the question she had on her mind since long.
“Tell me!! They were us. Long ago. What changed?”
He coughed. A loud siren seemed approaching fast. There was light in his eyes.
“Well…..we…..”
It struck her suddenly. He was near the train station. In times like these the heart thinks the worst. And before he could finish the sentence, he was hit by a train……………..
**************************(to be continued)***************

दो चार घडी की रात

आज विगत की झान्झारियों पर कम्बु नए दमकते हैं,
और पुरानी दीवारों पर झालर नए लटकते हैं ||
रात घटित कुछ हुई विभा चंचल उमगी विश्वस्त प्रखर,
कुछ पेड़ों पर आये किसलय, उर में पराग स्वछन्द भ्रमर ||१||

किन्तु उर की कथा नहीं यह स्वमुख से कहने की है,
हाय ! करें क्या, दशा मौन भी तो यह ना रहने की है||
सच है आज स्वर नए , गीत उजले-उजले से लगते हैं,
और अकर्मों के प्याले धुंधले-धुंधले से लगते हैं ||२||

कुछ पल भर को संगीत नया उद्वेलित सा कर जाता है,
जब आती तब की याद हाय, उर; उर में ही कट जाता है ||
कुछ कहो; नहीं अब मौन रहो, इस विष को अवरोधूं कैसे?
संतप्त ह्रदय की पीड़ा को, तुम ही बोलो बोधूं कैसे? ||३||

जिस पथ पल निकल पड़े थे वर्षों पूर्व अबी भी बाकी है,
कुछ गलती अपनी हाय, और कुछ मौसम की बदहाली है ||
किन्तु शिखर शोभित, जगमग सा क्षितिज प्रभा उजलता है ,
देख उसे मन का वैभव, विश्वास हिलोरें लाता है ||४||

है सत्य शांति का पथ किंचित भी शांत नहीं रह पाता है,
आपद से धूमिल नर किन्तु कुछ और निखर सा आता है ||
हाँ, सुगम नहीं थी राह किन्तु अब शिखर प्रलोभन देता है,
उकसाता है, उत्साह गरज कर मन आतुर हो जाता है ||५||

कुछ चार घडी की रात अभी दो चार कदम बस चलना है,
नर की भारी उछ्वासों से व्याधि पाषाण पिघलना है ||
हाँ! वही श्रिंग जो धमक रहा विधु की धीमी सी काया में,
हो जाएगा लुप्त प्राप्त कर तुम्हे तुम्हारी माया में ||६||

Episode 7 (The Conversation)

Over Four years later

He felt the cold of the bench on his butt. It was not weird to feel the same given the chilling weather that had befallen upon the city. The city lights were dim enough to conceal the faces and reduce the human spectacles to a silhouette. He waited. It was going to be a long night. Meanwhile, his cell beeped. It was a message. He loved messages. They gave you the comfort to not react impulsively. They nurtured your laziness in contrast to the phone rings where you have to immediately do the honors. He smiled at his immaculate logic.
Defiance is a treacherous feeling, he thought. Relationships are overhyped. He pulled out the black Nokia 6030 from his back pocket and waited for some time.
1 message received.
“C u in 15 mins at d CCD at InfoCom. --K S”
He loved those initials. They belonged to Karuna.
He had time to kill. He took out the packet of ‘Milds’ from his pocket and lit it. Smoke is dangerous. The pack said “Smoking Kills” in bold letters. He laughed at the lameness of the same. Everything kills. The question is how early. Probably smoking kills earlier. That would have been more sensible.
“Bloody Democracy” he cursed for no reason.
She detested smoke. She hated smokers. He lit it anyway.
“I have fifteen minutes.” He consoled himself. He waited outside the CCD. He thought of entering some attire shop to kill time but he refrained and stuck to the cigarette.
He finished it with a silent exhale. He cursed all smokers for the twitch he felt in his throat.
Three more minutes. He was excited. He was seeing her after a long time.


“You have been smoking.” Were her first words.
‘Hmm…’he coughed.
“How have you been?”
“Sad. You?” he inquired
“Unhappy.”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
“No”
“How? The dictionary says they are the same”
“I hate words.”
“Do you love me? Still..??”
“I don’t know. But I do want to slap you”
“Why?”
“You have been ignorant.”
“Of what?”
“Me”
He allowed the silence to settle in for some time as the genteel lady with the plastic smile was coming in for orders.
“What will you have sir?”
He scanned the menu for the cheapest coffee. He hated coffee. But the situation wasn’t so lively either.
“One cappuccino please”
She turned towards Karuna.
“And for the la..”
“She won’t have anything. Thank you.” He cut her short. The silence was eerie. The lady took to her exit. This wasn’t a romantic date she thought and cursed herself for the tipless transaction she was about to embark upon.
“Why did you order for me?”
“I did not order for you.”
“Yes. Exactly. Why did you not order something for me?”
“You have me. Isn’t it enough?”
“No. I want coffee.”
“Do you need coffee?”
“No. I just want it. ‘Needs’ and ‘wants’ are separate nouns.”
“Would you like it with or without cream?”
“I don’t like cream.”
“So will you need cream?”
She smiled. Probably for the first time this evening. They had begun to settle in. They had a lot to talk about apart from ‘needs’ and ‘wants’. But then ‘wants’ were their first of the umpteen agendas.
***
He sat looking at a couple happily chatting at the corner in the room. She caught his gaze.
“They look happy. What do you think?” She said.
“Yeah. There’s a pair who is enjoying every penny spent on the coffee.”
“It is not coffee. It’s a milkshake and they are sipping from one single glass. On a different note, you have been unkind.”
“You never understood metaphors then. Did you?”
“Do you think it’s going to be his lucky night tonight?”
“Well if it does, she will have a lot more to thank for!” He quickly retaliated. It was a matter of loyalty to one’s tribe.
“Ehh!! She is way out of his bounds. I don’t even know how he landed this hottie?” she continued her gaze to the lady in pink.
“I wonder if someone speaks the same about me?” he blushed.
She smiled. They suddenly realized what they were talking about. Turning towards her he changed the subject.
“So, what were we talking about?”
“Metaphors ! and how I suck at them!”
He smiled, probably at the onset of another metaphor. She smiled back.
“You don’t!!”
“Tell me the difference between ‘sarcasm’ and ‘satire’?”
“They are equally suited to your remarks. Apart from the way we spell them they are more or less the same. What do you think?”
“I don’t think about them. I think about you. Do you think about me?”
“Was it a sarcastic remark?”
“What makes you think so?”
“I don’t think a lot!”
“Why don’t you think about me?”
“Will you kiss me?”
“With these smoker’s lips? No way?”
“If I had not smoked had you kissed me if I had told you so?”
“I don’t know.”
“They are your lips. You should be aware of the judiciousness you need to exercise before placing them anywhere.”
“As if you exercised yours before placing them at the base of a fucking cigarette?”
“I did! And I realized that I was wrong. Now would you exercise yours?”
She gently got up and moved towards the washroom.
“Follow me!”
He did so. The place was empty except for a pair of couples freely chattering away their falling or budding worlds. Apart from that there isn’t much to talk about.
Near the sink she pulled him towards herself by his collar.
“Nice shirt Mister and a foul cigarette!!”
It lasted for only two seconds. When he left her grasp he saw tears in her eyes.
“I miss you. Make everything right. Like old times. For old times’ sake…”
She walked away without saying anymore and he stood there confused as to what to do? Enjoy the fresh kiss or grieve her disappearance. He paid the bill. The coffee was untouched. His lips had savored sweeter pleasures.
He lit another cigarette with some guilt in the darkness outside. He allowed some smoke to collect before his mind melted into the afternoon he had first made her cry.
It was August 2005 then. It had been over four years now. He recalled the events of that afternoon clearly. His hand had brushed hers unintentionally. It had been a delight. He thought again and puffed harder. The smoke made him cough in the darkness. It really was going to be a long night.

de Sade ‘s dilemma

‘Juliette ’ beside I peaceful lie,
Ah! ‘ Lie’ don’t I , and preferably so;
Resonant restrains don’t peace impart,
Then how ‘blissful’ can ‘peaceful’ be??

Ennui strapped thy back decrepit,
Loathing senses! How sense departs?
Thine eyes do tell a tale; Behold!
A touch you wish! How fool of me??
(or is it you?)

Blooming buds does spring bestow,
Some wither away some gleeful glow;
You look dismay’d unmock’d within,
I wander ‘twixt Juliette’s sorrow!!

Brazen blasphemy I profess you say,
Beauty I love; its joy I savor.
Flushed with shame my countenance is,
(To) Be born in place that love devors!!


Disclaimer: The author does not in any form proposes or preaches 'Sadism'. It is but a chain of ideas which is fictitious and is not to be misread as the author's.

P.S.: Words have various meanings.
P.S.: 'Juliette' referred is the book by Marquis de Sade.