“ What are you doing ?”
“ Shhhh…. I’ am writing.” He forefinger continues to draw an elaborate curl and some loops, stopping with a thumb imprint on my naked back. “ What did I write ? Tell me.”
“ I don’t know. Write again. I was enjoying the tickling sensation.” I think the last letter was a ‘U’ and then a thumb imprint which may be ‘ full stop’.
“ Be attentive. Do not spoil my efforts. Please concentrate.”
“ OK, baba. I think the last letter was the numerical ‘3’ and then you pressed your thumb. Was it a full stop ?”
“ Am writing all over again.”
I turned on my back to admire her breasts. Immediately I get slapped playfully on the side of my buttock. Her heavy breasts were round and swollen , drooping a bit, their nipples dark. On the side of her nipple of her left breast there is a mole. She is determined to make it easy for me, and her fingers move in a flourish, pausing after each letter to test my attentiveness and understanding. ‘ 1’, I say and she nods excitedly. ‘ S’ – no 2..then ?’ I was at a loss trying to break the concentration and taking the easy way out in pre-empting her thoughts. She was making it difficult now.
“ Its only numericals. Thats the only clue I will give, “ she said.
Now I am laughing too much as I am tickled by her unsympathetically making me obliged to concede quickly, ‘ 4. I got it.’ Her finger draws an extended arch that starts on my right shoulder and then a loop and then her finger cross my anus to end a bit up on the side. ‘ 3’.
“ So, it is ‘143 ‘?”
“ Let me see. 1 for I, 4 for Love and 3 for You. Its an acronym in numerical.”
“ My God. You could have made Euclid proud. Do you know about the Golden Triangle ?”
“ Yes, Delhi – Agra and Jaipur.”
“ No, not that one. Forget it.”
I turned around and tightly embrace her , our bodies entwined. Two naked bodies with her flabby belly resting on my protruding stomach. I was sure it did not make a good picture but then when you are enjoying adultery, one does not care much for scenic creativity.
“ I have a message for you also, but I will not use my finger, “ I said.
I turned around to change our position and placed myself on top of her. Relishing the silky taste of her body , I trace the lines with the tip of my tongue across her softness. I use her mid riff to create my ‘ 1’ . This is easy and she animatedly nods. My ‘ 4’ begins on top of her right breast and ends on the bulge of her left hip with the cut through her cleavage. The loop of the top of ‘ 3’ ends at her right nipple and then the second loop takes in her navel. I don’t stop here and make another ‘3’.
She is enjoying , her eyes closed in blissful peace. She uttered , ‘ too’.
I bury my face for sometime in her soft pubic hair and then look up again at her. The sun is coming in a streak through the narrow gap of the two curtains. In Calcutta, as the day progresses the noise level increases. Various people talking simultaneously and in loud voices, sound of utensils being washed, broom sticks, buckets and overall the sound of water. There is a phobia here around water.
We were lying , our bodies entwined and looking at each other. The only sound was that of breathing. I was trying to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath. Soon I have to leave her as my time for flight back to Delhi is approaching.
“ So, your are all set for dropping her and leaving for Delhi, then ?”
I turned around at the question and looked. There is a crow which is sitting on the glass pane of the bathroom and asking me. Calcutta crows are ominous. I had gone to the washroom to relieve myself.
“ Guess, you did not like her in bed much.” The crow said.
“ Too much of sentimental stuff. This is the problem sleeping with middle class Calcuttans.”
“ But you still like the thrill, old man.” The crow was deriding my age. I came back and entangled Anasua again.
I had met Anasua six months back. It was raining on 12th August, 2012. I had gone to their office in a by lane of Tobin Road. Tobin Road is a crossing on the BT Road in Calcutta and the serpentine lane on the left side of the crossing is forever clogged by taxis, auto and cycle rickshaws. The name Tobin is an English surname, a derivation probably of Tobias, Hebrew for “God is good.” Associated with the now forgotten missionary school along this road. Once you enter the lane, you get into the galis of North Calcutta. The time has stopped here. It is still stuck in the seventies when growth stopped the precocious city.
Srijeet, Anasua’s husband had been running a small medicine distributorship from this office with another partner, called Indrani. Anasua was plain looking with no make up on her youngish bespectacled face. Once or twice when she got up to serve tea, I could figure a Rubenesque woman behind the simple salwar kameez. The curves seem ample . Runu had taken me along. Runu alias Ronodeep Majumdar is my childhood friend and is a common thread between all the names named in the preceding sentences. What a terrible waste he has been till now, but paradoxically contended.
Whenever I go to Calcutta, Runu comes to know. He had tried introducing me to various of his friends with insane ideas of starting variety of businesses ranging from fashion photography to travel agency . Among them, Srijeet had a clear concept and knowledge of pharmaceutical products and had been interacting with me for more than a year now. We spoke on various models and products, did some research and finally started off last year by forming a partnership organisation. Anasua, his wife became the third partner in the tripartite partnership, as I had the uncanny feeling of getting someone in between myself and Srijeet . We had one more meeting before forming the firm in November, 2012 when I taught Anausa the formats and content required in the weekly, monthly and outstanding reports, which she took down in spellings that were wrong. This lack of knowledge of English started forging the tenets of our intimacy. We started talking everyday and slowly in every half of the day leading to almost every couple of hours, being drawn by the exuberance of creation of a venture. Our sms s changed from professional requirements to commonplace happenings and then on to more sentimental ones. I experimented with sending some lurid jokes and she was fine with them. I once sent a string of sms s which started undressing her to gradual intercourse. She loved it and reciprocated . The game was on from that time.
A baul song comes to my mind while playing with the undulations of Anasua.
বাগানে পাঁচজনা মলী,
যে যাঁর ঠাঁইয়ে বস্যে আছেন,
পাঁচ মাথার মোড় আগুলি !
The fact that all the gardeners are endlessly sitting is predestined, like the event of today.
“ Now tell me your story,” I remained still for a moment while being within her. I had managed to lift it for the second time in a matter of couple of hours. No mean achievement and I wanted to prolong this.
“ Ah ! Why did you stop ? What story ? “
“ Your life story .”
“It is such a simple one, that you will laugh at me. There is no story. ”
“ There is a story hidden in every mundane nuance of everyday life. So many stories get formed with ‘ and’ ‘ so’ ‘or’ ‘ but’ and some of them are very interesting.”
“ Come on. I cannot tell you my story in this posture. I have never heard anyone telling stories while having intercourse.”
“ I remember a scene in a Ray movie where the guy looks at his watch while having sex. This is something similar. Unless I get distracted I will come right now. ”
“ Stop this now. Are you out of your sense ? Enjoy the moment. Push harder, please.”
I never thought Anasua was capable of making sounds while having sex. Here she was trying to arouse me by entangling her legs on top of me. Imploring me to pound her. Quite against the archetypical Bengali middle class bahu image. I managed to withdraw at the nick of time and exploded into her in a moment of forgetfulness. The withdrawal technique has been perfected by me over the years. Once I had come on a new bedsheet while making it out with Alka, my cousin’s wife. She had reprimanded me for it and told me that I should have showered on her stomach. After that I have always ejaculated on the stomach of the woman under.
I could hear a telephone ring. I get nervous for a moment. Today in this city, my presence is unknown to anyone, even then, hearing a ring , my first thought for a fraction of a second was that the telephone was calling me and in the following fraction of a second there was a relief of knowing myself excluded for the moment from every call, unattainable and safe. I laid down in a state of contentedness by her side and started immediately to play with her left breast. I was trying to figure out whether her sizes are symmetrical and trying to grasp both of them intermittently. Her right one is now crushed against my body making my fruitless experiment difficult.
There is a sense of uneasiness in our lying together. Anasua broke the silence and started , “ My father runs a variety store. We are originally from Srirampore where my father had a joint business with my uncles on construction parts. It was started by my grandfather. Upon his demise, my uncles separated and we sold our house and moved to Shyambazar. My father bought a house and I grew up in that. I studied in a school nearby , no use of telling you the school name as you do not know Bengali medium schools in that part. The house had three floors and I have a brother who now runs the store with my father.” She wrapped a thin blanket to cover part of her nakedness.
“ Is he married ? ” I tried to uncover her again.
“ Yes he is. They have a son, who is now ten years old and a bit mentally retarded.”
“ No conflict between his wife and your mother ?”
“ What a mind you have ? Not at all. They peacefully co-exist. In fact my relation with his wife is better than with him. She is very nice. Now don’t pull my blanket. I am feeling a bit chill. ”
“ How did you meet Srijeet ?”
“ They came as a tenant to us. My father vacated the ground floor and gave it on rent. We moved to the top two floors. Srijeet’s father was a renowned freedom fighter , he was the recipient of tamrapatra. Srijeet is elder to me by more than ten years.”
“ That’s what I thought. Your age gap is almost fifteen years.”
“ Thirteen , precisely. He used to do a small business in plastic when he came to our house. I was in school. It was me who fell in love with him. I used to go to his house and spend time with him. He writes and reads poetry very well .”
“ A man of many talents , I see.”
“ Like you. Why don’t you come inside the blanket ? I used to meet him after school. Then I was in Class XI. We used to go through the lanes of Baghbazar and roam on the side of Ganga.”
“ What a romantic setting ! The areas smells of excreta .”
“ Are you ridiculing ? Anyway, you will not understand that love.”
“ Well, Madam, I have also gone through that phase in my life.”
“ Cannot believe. You are so cut – throat in everything you do. But you are very honest and sincere.”
“ Those are values which are no longer in demand today. Lets continue with your story.”
“ Srijeet and me kissed and embraced though we never slept before marriage. He has a very sharp mind and used to meddle in Leftist politics. While in Class XII, I told my mother about our affair. She also liked Srijeet but we never briefed father . She told father when I was out of Class XII. I was never a good student, did not like studying. But I can cook very well and understand a bit of business after watching my father.”
“ How come you never slept before marriage ? I thought that’s a ritual in Shyambazar.”
“ Ritual ? Bengali women don’t sleep before marriage. It is against our values. When father came to know about our affair , he was mad. He was mad at the age difference and mad on my refusal to do higher studies. I did not join college and sat at the shop of my father in the mornings to help him. We used to talk and my father used to tell me the need of self-independence of females in India. At that point I hardly used to listen to him, but now I can understand. We eloped one day in September – Srijeet and myself planning to marry after Kali puja. I pressed him into it though he was a bit hesitant. His mother did not like me much but his father treated me like his own daughter. I waited one evening, when father was in shop and my brother had gone out of station. Being elder to me by some years, he had started meeting the suppliers. I waited with one packed suitcase and hoped in a taxi which Srijeet had hired. We went to the marriage registrar, who was intimated before, with couple of Srijeet’s friends. We married and went to one of his friend’s house where we stayed for almost a month. Father was furious and went to my in-laws on ground floor to give them a piece of his mind. My father in – law tried to act as the peacemaker. We shifted to a rented place – Srijeet and myself to start our new life.”
I got up and lit a cigarette. Being naked seemed natural. I made a silent promise to flatten my stomach by doing regular abs from now on. I think the crow outside was eavesdropping to witness our erotic act changing to a life-story.
“ Quite interesting. The type you see in movies, Bengali movies of 60 s and 70s. So, you got happily married. When did the first chinks happen ?” I was egging her. Through the thin gap in the curtain, I could see the potted plants of the opposite balcony being watered by the housewife wearing a nightie. It is obvious she does not have to go out for work.
Anasua rested her chin on her hand , “ Much much later. Gradually peace ushered in. We started going to Srijeet’s house. My father quietened down and accepted Srijeet. My brother still do not give much value to him. My brother got married thereafter. We had our son whom my father adores. I pushed Srijeet to buying this flat where we are staying now. It may be small but it is our own. Srijeet changed his business to pharma line but capital was a perennial issue. He joined a job and was transferred to Delhi and we shifted to Delhi for couple of years.”
“ You should have called me when you were in Delhi.”
“ I did not know you then. Delhi was very hot during summer but what I could not stand was the chilly cold of December end and January. We used to stay in Lajpat Nagar.”
“ That’s full of Punjabis. The dames are very beautiful till they are married.”
“ We had a Marwari neighbour. Three brothers living together with their wives and children.”
“ You mean one brother with another’s wife and one more with yet another ? And the DNA of the children all mixed up ?”
“ Stupid. They were very conservative. The wives always had their heads covered. Their mother used to sit outside and I have myself seen the wives massaging her foot by turns. The younger wife used to come to our house but never eat anything as we were non-vegetarian.”
“ They survive on milk and ghee. Carry on.”
“ Srijeet got transferred back to Calcutta. This apartment was ready for quite sometime and we moved in with my in-laws. Life was steady till Father – in law had a stroke and got paralytic. I used to nurse him throughout. He died inspite of our rushing him to a hospital after his second stroke. Now mother in-law is in bed for last one year. She hardly moves. I am nursing her though we have kept a day nurse”
“ Hard life for you. Florence nightangle reborn, I must say. Don’t you get bored ? ”
“ Yes, I do. But I cannot leave her. My mother in law started liking me after some time and now after all these years she does not eat at night unless I feed her. That is her level of dependence on me. Srijeet started doing a small business in pharma in parallel with his job. You know about that as he met you after he had started it.”
“ Yes, I know. He was losing money on that business. “
“ He started the business because of Indrani. She was his colleague in office and a good friend of his. They became partners and he used to manage this business during evenings. Sometimes he used to pull me in, to keep records of the business. The relationship went beyond professional lines and they were pretty close. Still are, I think .”
“ You mean Srijeet had or still has a sexual relationship with Indrani ? Is she beautiful ? “
“ Beautiful ? My foot. She is fat, dark with blunt features. Her height is medium and is plump – much more than me. Her face looks aged and she is almost at the same age as Srijeet. Her husband does some odd jobs and she is dependent on Srijeet to run the business. Srijeet also had another girl friend – Dolly. Dolly works in another pharma company and is very fashionable.”
“ Lucky guy. Sleeps with two at the same time.”
“ I don’t know whom he sleeps with. But he used to go on tours very often and one day I found scratches on his back. Scratches that happen when a female draws her long finger nail in ecstacy.”
“ Thank God, it will never happen to me as your nails are clipped.”
“ I have to nurse my mother in-law and long nails gather dirt. I questioned Sri jeet on these marks and for the first time he was evasive in his replies. He used to carry on talking at night on the terrace, so that I cannot overhear.”
“ Did he sleep with both ? Dolly and Indrani ?” I was feeling envious.
“ I questioned him, grilled him and fought with him. He did not tell me with whom he had an affair. I think he first started with Dolly and after the business with Indrani developed, he slept with her too. Indrani emotionally blackmailed him in running the business.”
“ Why did he leave the business with Indrani ?”
“ He still helps her in her business though he withdrew from the partnership as that was one of your conditions of investment. I also guess that he is a bit tired with Indrani and this new venture with you, gave him a convenient escape route. You know, I had a great fight with Indrani once.”
“ Fight as in WWF ? Why did you fight with that dame ?”
“ For snatching Srijeet from me. He was all mine and I supported him all throughout and even bore his son. But what ungrateful men are.”
“ I think all men are the same. After sometime love and sex should be separated. You can have sex for fun and not love her.”
“ Not everyone thinks like you. I know you are having sex with me for fun , though I have come to love you. It is only one-sided and I have accepted it.”
“ My love for you is different. You are so simple and that’s the reason I love you. “
“ I know you have slept with lot of females in your life. But I want you to promise me one thing .”
“ What ?”
“ You will not sleep with any other female .”
“ For how long ?”
“ For one year.”
“ And what do I get in return ?”
“ What do you want ?”
“ The new business to be successful, as of now.”
“ Done. I will ensure that your business with Srijeet returns your investment in one year.”
“ You are talking of break-even in one year.”
“ Yes, break-even.”
“ That’s not simple in today’s economic condition for a new business, which is hardly three months old.”
“ Don’t sleep around for one year and it will happen. I will love you so much that you will forget other females.”
“ You are in Calcutta and am in Delhi. How do I get you all the time ?”
“ Stay here. You have a house here. Otherwise come every month.”
“ Lets see.”
“ Srijeet and myself have been sleeping separately for five years now. I cannot share my love with any one else.”
“ A difficult promise for me to make.”
“ Come on. You already told me that you do not sleep with your wife anymore. You are more like brother-sister.”
“ That’s true. But I do have two girlfriends in Mumbai with whom I sleep occasionally.”
“ Don’t go to Mumbai. No , you have to promise.” Anasua clasped my penis and her lips were dangling inches from mine. Her hand on my cock loosens a bit then tightens.
“ OK, for a year. I will try. But then you have to get this business to a break even level.”
She kissed me. A long drawn one. I learnt to kiss endearingly on the lips from Anasua. First suck the lower one for long and then the upper one and then press your lips on to hers with a subtle pressure with your tongue playfully longing on her tongue. The languid sensation spreads to my lower half, like a liquid floating to the surface. From where the hell, did she learn to kiss so well ? The crow was silent outside. Anasua got up to dress. She had firm legs, curving hips, bit of flesh around the waist and broad shoulders. Her belly was rather prominent and the navel so deeply hollowed that it almost disappeared in the flesh. The most beautiful part was her breasts which were well developed, plump but firm and resilient. Most of the modern females due to excessive dieting had breasts now which are non-existent.
We left soon after putting the house in order and Anasua making two cups of tea for us. I dropped Anasua in a cab nearby her house and came back in the same cab to a place near Hedua. In the morning, I had picked her up in a cab from Tobin Road crossing. This 24 hours trip for me was focused only on the objective of committing adultery.
Today’s meeting of Anasua with me, will it give rise to a common story ? I guess not. The meeting today was decisive enough for both of us and we tried to bring together different texture of events, experiences and environments. However, from today’s event other stories will be derived to bring back more memories on another day.
Anasua is no beauty. She is a bit plump as is most married Bengali females due to their siesta after having rice in lunch. If you tell her to spell phenomenon and then catastrophe , chances are that one or both of them will be mis-spelt.
I started walking on the left footpath towards YMCA. There are some jewellery shops and the smell of fish cutlet of Chacha was drifting. I came to the crossing, lit a cigarette and started looking for a raised cement platform, under the peepal tree on a the left side of the YMCA gate. The platform is no more, though the tree stands tall. There is a new bus shade now. The area is cemented and the patches of mud around the tree are no longer there. I try to catch the familiar sounds of the road, of the familiar sights and try to put them together naturally. This particular spot takes me back more than two decades. So many memories remain etched in my mind. No time buddy to reminisce – have to look for a cab.
Got one with a little wait and now off to the airport. The crows are going home to the sparse trees still left in the city. When you visit Calcutta , you see not one city but many, of equal size and not unlike one another but at different times. Once you get to Manicktala and then towards Shyambazar or maybe towards Esplanade and then on to Gariahat, you see the city repeats its life, identical, shifting up and down on its chess board. The inhabitants repeat the same scenes, which their earlier generation has enacted, they repeat the same speeches with variously combined accents; they open alternate mouths in identical yawns. The city always remain the same. Each area seems to be one sub-city, made of its paras and pavemenets and parapets. Everytime you enter one of the cities, within Calcutta you find yourself caught in a dialogue. The parasite coming from a door to meet the young squanderer, the miserly father from his parapet utters his final warnings to the local unemployed youth for denial of subscription for puja, interrupted by the foolish servant who is going to buy mustard for boudimoni. You return to the city after a gap of some years and you find the same dialogue going on; in the meantime the parasite has died, and so have the miserly father; but new beings have taken their places and being replaced by a new hypocrite, a new miser, a new hustler. The participants in the dialogue die one by one and meanwhile those who will take their roles are born, some in one role and some in another. When one changes role with age, they get added by others who have likewise transformed themselves. There is a series of changes, until all the roles have been reassigned; buit meanwhile the angry old father does on replying to the witty maidservant, the hustler never ceases to follow the disinherited youth , Horipada goes to the bazaar at 7 am everyday. The narrative style of the city continues, not growing but continue to attract. Like a TV set which refuses to get switched off.
Srijeet has come to Delhi in July last year, while we were seriously thinking of setting up. We went to a medicine manufacturer in Ghaziabad and then came back to our office in Delhi to ponder over the business plan.
“ Srijeet, no business happens as a past time.”
“ I understand Badshah, but then you to reassure me. You have to be behind me.” Badhshah is my nick name. Runu must have told him.
“ I have gone through the business plans. I am convinced on the margins but the rotation of the fund is what I am worried about.”
“ The small stockists give payments in 60 days. Intially that will be a problem but over a period of time, we can bring this down to 45 days. We will also get 30 days credit from the manufacturers after some time.”
“ Can you sell Rs. 2 Lakhs per month to start with ? Then scale up to Rs. 5 Lakhs per month so that in first year we do Rs. 40 Lakhs at least. Otherwise it is no fun.”
We spent quite a lot of time on going through the figures. Srijeet promised to start this in November and leave his job. Also withdraw amicably from the current partnership business that he is doing. I came to know about Indrani much later.
A crow was sitting on our balcony of office , in Delhi. Crows here are more like ravens. This one comes frequently in search of small insects in the tree nearby.
“ So you are getting into another business ?” The crow asked me.
“ Yes, into medicines in Calcutta.” I replied timidly.
“ You know you will lose money.” The crow raised its beak sideways while asking this.
“ But I always dreamt of a small business in Calcutta.”
“ Are you not satisfied with the one you are running now?”
“ Here am one of the minority stakeholders. The Lala controls the show.”
“ Stupid. You can grow this bigger. Focus on this. Do you see me nesting in trees I am not familiar with ?”
“ Have not noticed.”
“ I never do it. I know some trees here in Siri Fort very well and I nest only them. At night I retire only on them. I do not even venture to the road.”
“ Stay a awhile. Advice me.”
“ You wont listen. You will repeat the same mistakes. Now I have to fly . The cat down has been eyeing me for sometime now.”
The investment required will be Rs. 2 Lakhs now. I have already put in Rs. 1 Lakh in paying Srijeet’s salary of 2 months and then on the rent and the sparse furniture requirements to fill the office. The economics of the business made sense but will the implementation happen successfully. I don’t know any of the stockists myself nor do I know the trade. I am dependent on Srijeet in running the business. After today’s event it may be possible that I have to reciprocate some of Anasua’s feelings to involve her more in the business. She is more trust worthy. My dream have been of operating at least two to three start ups and go public in each of them. Maybe sell them after increasing the valuation. I still feel the desire in me to aspire to being a famous person. Is it better to be more focused ? But then the word multiplexing loses its meaning. May be I will be on the streets soon and start over again. But I have to keep on trying and stretch myself. A certain type of perfection can be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect. The cab was on Manicktala Main Road and going under the railway line and the faint smell of human excreta hit my noses.
This is the place Runu and myself used to come to, when we started smoking ganja rolled in cigarettes. We used to fantasize and hallucinate. Sitting on a stone by the railway line, we used to feel the vibrations of the ground when the local trains used to pass. When the train comes, it shakes everything around you. There goes the 8 pm Naihati local and we lit one specially made cigarette as soon as the train whisked by. We used to talk of different females and their anatomical details. Sex was then one of the favourite topics, considering our ages. We used to indulge in a colossal waste of time by indulging in the possibility of having affairs and sex with all the known married and unmarried young females in our para. Once the 8:40 pm Krishnagar passed, we used to end our session and come down feeling like Clint Eastwood. By 9 pm, we had to reach our homes.
Anasua called up, “ Hi, reached airport ?”
“ Another ten minutes or so.”
“ I have reached home. Was thinking you will call me.”
“ I meant to, after I reached the airport.”
“ It was a nice feeling today.”
“ Which position did you like best ?” I asked.
“ Shut up. The driver will overhear and he will understand. There is something beyond sex also. You are so shameless.”
“ So, you wont share with me which position gave you the greatest satisfaction. I forgot to do one more posture with you.”
“ Which one is that ? “ Anasua’s curiosity got the better of her probity.
“ Doggy style.”
“ But it will hurt.”
“ No, it does. I will not enter your behind.”
“ When will you come next ?”
“ As soon as the business generates some cash.”
“ The business will happen. Srijeet is working hard.”
“ I hope so. But only Srijeet cannot do it. You have to get involved.”
“ I will. I promised you that this business will break even in a year. And you have to keep your promises.”
“ I never promised. I only said I will try.”
“ Liar. You said yes.”
The cab had come to the airport. I checked in with my hand baggage without leaving Anasua on the phone. Was updating her about the details and crowd of the airport.
“ I will promise as soon as I see the business moving. Right now we are yet to get the collections from the stockists.”
“ It is early days. Not even 30 days. The medicines are new, brands and new. Once the efficacy is proven, you will see the pull.”
“ Hope so.”
“ Come one. Can you not imagine the business one year from now in your mind ?”
“ Frankly, as of now, I can’t.”
“ I know you don’t give up. If you imagine the business grow then it will.”
“ The power to imagine gives you the responsibility. In dreams begin responsibility. Are you understanding ?”
“ Yes. I have the same dream. I also think the investment required will be more than what has happened.”
“ If you have the same dream then it will happen. You will feel responsible for whatever happens in that dream. I know the money part.”
“ Take care.”
Suddenly I hear Anasua sobbing on the phone.
“ Door pagli. I am only two hour away. And one phone call away. You are grown up.” I continued.
“ You won’t understand this.” Saying this she disconnected and I went for the security check.
Whenever the flight takes off from Calcutta, I feel a bit sad. A depression of not being able to use the kaleidoscope again for sometime. The heterogeneous fragments of colours and lines assemble to conjure a symmetry and the peremptory construction comes of pieces with a slight tap on your finger on the side of the tube to only reconstruct another one. The conjured images of childhood and youth, got left below as the flight gained height. I reclined my seat and went to a slumber. Anasua ‘s repartee was impressive. She definitely has more brains than the impression one gets by looking at her. Since this is a low cost airline, they wont serve free dinner. I went to sleep with a feeling pure and simple guilt.
I was trying to climb. Clambering up the slope, which was quite steep. The summit was close and sunlight on the peak, make it glisten. I halted for a moment and glanced back. Down below I could see dense foliage covering up the slopes, not inhabited by anyone as far as I could see. It seemed very lonely. I turned back and looked upwards at the summit. It struck me that a strange glow was emanating from there. I started climbing again, and it was much smoother. It seems like I was almost floating. The more I was climbing, the further away the peak was moving away. I was becoming restless. Even though the climb did not give me any hardship, I was sweating – around the nose, where I sweat a lot, the back of my neck, and in my armpits. Height, I believe, always invites coolness. But here it was becoming more hot and humid. The glistening peak seemed to gain more height and distance with each step of mine. I stopped and tried to stabilise my thoughts, trying to speculate the correct steps I should take and the probable length of time it would take to reach it. I had a sinking feeling that I had lost the correct path somewhere lower down, the same feeling I get every now and then nowadays. May have to go back down below! Now being hidden by the foliage. But if I went down I would get lost.
It was a bumpy landing at Delhi on a foggy night.