The words are profound and so is my need. This is an aftermath of situation and a lost self.
I walk around with an infectious smile, “Babe, u are so crazy!” I smile and we crack dirty jokes. 'Let's go', he says, 'I have to meet her today, come with me.' I refuse, he doesn't persist. 'No, is your favorite word, is it not?' I laugh, pose as a queen and say good bye.
As I walk down Colaba, the NOs flash in my face, I cease to laugh/ smile/ smirk at passing people, vendors and kids. I sit at the Parsi bakery in Marine Lines and wait for her to come. It starts to rain, I relish the chai and look at the owner, who looks at the roof.
The book is travelling, to him this time. She lived in his apartment after he abruptly left. When she called me, I didn't know who she was or what she wanted; she uttered a name and I was there, and thats how we became friends. “ I read it, I couldn't help it. If it's any solace, I cried. I want to ask why but I guess it's none of my business.”
How did you find me?” I ask her, “From the office register, I just put two into two and gave it my best shot. You know he left in the night, without notice; the landlord was angry, but I had no place to stay, so I thank him!” She smiled asking for sympathy, my broken smile wiped hers away. He scribbled in it, we fought over it. He never let me read it. After one such fight, he text me that if I read it, I would not consider him 'much of a man'. I laughed and never asked again - certain territories were not to be crossed, he and I both knew that.
The book saddled in my hands for months, without the courage to read. I knew it would unleash something in me and trap me for ever and ever in a trench, never to be recovered. I didn't want to be a wilful slave, I procrastinated. When I read, it had his smell, I could place every moment we spent, every nod of his head that said - 'Nah, Nothing!', his feelings eloquently written. That was first time I knew a side of him that was weak, my hulk was weak. That was also the time when I discovered how beautiful I was to him. His verse, “Her Eyes Plague Me' made me cry, he was sexual and beyond the realms of my body. I remembered how he would hold my palms and pray, my tiny lean hands engulfed in two large cushions of flesh. Then there were the fights, 'Pope, she likes Pope. What kind of a woman likes Pope?' ' When she spoke of nudity and naked body, I wanted to jump off the window, it was embarrassing and she wouldn't stop.' 'My butterfly has no shame and it makes me more happy than ever. She is pure like the first melting drop from Gangotri.' I want to slip beneath her skin, it's safe there'.
I laughed and wept and returned the book to her, to return it to him. “Uski amanat lotaa rahi hooni, litchi ke chilke mere hain, woh beej legaya hai.” (I am sending his stuff, the litchi skin is mine, he took the seeds with him.)
She quietly let them be with me and hugged. “You know, he is very successful there, you should visit him. He doesn't keep well though and he doesn't paint anymore.” Tell him, 'I have grown fat and I don't paint anymore either.”
I am amorphous in your arms, I dissolve when my body is immersed in water. My foot-pad craves for your tongue and my mind for that kiss to quench my soul. I can't wander like this - I can't look for rain in a barren bazaar. The magic around me sublimates into nothingness - like an orgasm disappeared. The furniture around me shrieks, and I caress it to silence. The arch of a wooden sofa, the curve of a bottle, the circle of the glass mouth; I sit on the armchair and rock the invisible you in my arms.
I feel your weight, my breath deepens; you say, “Main agar insaan anhi hota toh teri mohobaat hota, tere rooh ki sadgi hota, teri julfon ki deewangi hota, tere haatho ka saaya hota, teri aakhon ki khamoshi hota, tere khawb hota, tere jism pe behti lehere hota, teri aawaj hota. Main agar insaan nahi hota toh... tera saaya hota.” ( If I wasn't a man, I would have been your love, the simplicty of your soul, your wild hair, the shadows that your hands make, the silence in your eyes, your dreams, the waves that feel your body, your voice. If I wasn't human... I would have been your shadow.)
A tear rolls down my left cheek, my fingers feel the strength of your spine. You look up to me and turn away - the words hold no good.
Years later, in a cafe I meet an acquaintance who you met on a plane to Paris, and asked him to remind me that if 'I wasn't human, I would have been everything I said'. “He looks like a ghost, completely lost, and he talks of you like it was yesterday.” I smile, he continues. “ He has sworn to never step into this country, he doesn't like B'bay anymore. The last time he came here, he stayed for three days and didn't get out of the damn hotel. I can't blame you, you were like the hills in Arunachal and he the rocks of Leh. It's too long a bridge to build, but I want to blame you.”
The other-side takes over and I walk away, he watches me go. Bangs his fist on the table, "Say a word for him, will you?" I turn to look and my eyes are tear pools; we look and he flops into his chair with a loud moan - "Allah, yeh kaisi ibaddat hai?" (Lord, what kind of a prayer is this?)
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Its important to understand that not everyone understands you. What is more important is to not hold it against them.
For T - who lived her entire life in a four-month romance, For DK - on whom the stars will shine. For R - Hope he is worth the wait. and For K - May infinite love be with you.
