Happy Puppy
​
“Who’s that?” asked my friend as we walked past a bunch of girls after the classes were over. He drew my attention to a girl playing with a black pup. “That’s her!” I reacted involuntarily, and then voluntarily muted myself as I said, “The girl I love.” “Her?” My friend seemed perplexed by my identifying her with just a generic pronoun. “The girl who loves dogs.” I explained. “Well, lots of girls love dogs. My sister is one of them.” He commented. I said, “But untamed dogs prefer the company of only certain people — like her.” “How can you tell?” The other day I saw another dog from the street go near her and wag its tail expecting her affection.” “That’s a girl to fall in love with.” remarked my friend and he parted ways with me to go near her (and wag his tail).
For a while he admired the black pup in her lap and conveyed during the conversation his knowledge and inherent fondness for the species. She appeared to be impressed, and transferred the happy puppy to my friend who, I felt, tried to convince the baby dog that he is equally or even more loving than her. But it was clear (to me) that his intention was to impress her and impressing the puppy was merely a show (for her to appreciate).
His apparent compassion towards the kid charmed and she allowed him to keep her company as she took leave of her friends.and embarked for her home with my friend. He carried the little dog for some distance and then considering it a severe distraction, he put it down it. Did she notice that!? I can’t tell. The kid was relieved though from all that fake affection, but it was a bit confused as well (about whom it should approach next).
I picked it up, but unlike my friend, I didn’t fondle it and squeezed the cuteness out of it. I took out a pack of biscuits from my satchel and fed it a few pieces. It devoured them with delight. My eyes looked at the road my love had travelled a while ago with a friend of mine. The puppy was happy again. I placed it next to a brown pup and headed for my home.
​
The Crush
​
Today morning, while browsing facebook, Pallav learnt that his teenage crush got married two weeks ago. She did not care to inform or invite him whom she prefers to regard as a friend. The last time the two saw each other was when they had their last paper of Class 12 final exam which was ten years ten days ago from today. She had wished him good luck for the future. In response, he had only smiled back telepathically trying to tell her that his good luck was she. In the intervening years since they last saw each other, they have conversed only occasionally. It could be either's birthday, a new year or Pallav's whimsical mail to her. In any case, the conversation would last only two or three exchanges beyond which neither would consider it useful to continue.
While she was unmarried, hope was alive, though feeble and flickering, in Pallav's heart that one day she might accept him and consent to his proposal that he made to her eleven years ago. But that hope has been quenched now. She has ultimately relinquished him. Her conviction has vanquished his confidence. His heart now seems to be damaged beyond repair. He feels he is not even a friend of hers which she made him believe. He has sacrificed so much for her so often in his life but she has never taken a note of that. She always limited her gratitude to a formal thanks, nothing beyond, nothing extra.
Pallav never knew and she never told what he lacked in her eyes. He had seen her flirting with boys that were as good as dirt. Those boys disrespected teachers, frequently get into fights, openly slander and worst of all insulted women young and old alike. They were a pain in the neck of every faculty. When Pallav was falling for her, his excuse was that she was a fan of Einstein which he thought is a rare trait among girls. He felt that common admiration would help develop a strong bond between them over time. But nothing of that sort happened. She never discussed or even mentioned that genius in front of him although he would not miss an opportunity to glorify him while communicating with her.
All these thoughts are now perturbing Pallav as he is trying to organize all his memories of her viz. some unexpected encounters, some mysterious sentences, some requested favors that were never refused and some casual promises of hers that were forgotten to be kept. They have all now become worthless and redundant. But Pallav strives to preserve them as best as he can with all the love that he has for her. He has lost his sanity time and again to regain his faith in his love but now he must abandon that faith and restore his sanity.
​
Coffee
The sharp ringing of the alarm in an apartment in my neighborhood cuts through the calm of night. It does so every day. It's five o'clock. I'm already up. I don't have a time to break out of my sleep but I often rise around four just before the roosters begin their noisy crow. I guess that's in my genes. What have I been doing till this moment? It's not one activity. I've been doing multitude of things. That includes making coffee, forget about it as it is left to cool down, draw something in my art notebook, watch a documentary or two, browsing the web, blogging some ideas, programming, poetry, music... all these overlappingly. And then I get back to the forgotten coffee that by now would have been ultracold. That's sort of my early morning all-inclusive activity.
It may seem interesting but one involved in an interesting activity doesn't realize it's interesting while performing it. Only when it's over, it strikes one that it has been an interesting span of time, an hour well spent. So, if I have had a cold cup of coffee, that generally means I've done something interesting. And if the coffee has entered my system hot, perhaps I've not given life my best shot.
Next thing I do, if I'm not continuing with my activity, I go to the terrace to hear the finches making a fuss about their unspoken folks and see the rising sun if it's not trying to hide behind the blankets of clouds. It waves its "good morning" by its warm rays as if it's saying, "Here I'm once again, you like it or not." I smile or I sigh as the situation may be. But somehow it also appears to convey, "Don't be disheartened. There's still hope. Make a fresh start if the last one is spoilt." Well... this does not apply to the coffee, I guess otherwise I'd become a consistent coffeemaker!
And if instead of greeting the good old sun and listening to the lively twittering of birds, I happen to be carrying on with my activity, I may fall back to asleep if the activity has taken its toll on me, if I get stuck with something or if I the coffee was completely unsuccessful. I'd say say to myself, "It's okay to go to sleep my dear. Make a fresh start when you regain your spirit." And so I'd end up preparing another cup of coffee and leaving it to its fate when no alarm bell would be ringing.
​
​Beautiful Feeling — a thoughtful conversation
​
Can you tell me one thing?
What?
Can you tell me why it's an altogether different experience to be with you?
Have you given it some thought by yourself?
Couple of times.
And did you figure it out?
Vaguely, but I'd like to know your view.
Well, in that case, I too need to think over it couple of times to make a comment.
Okay. How long do you need to think a couple of times? Can you do that in a couple of minutes?
Unfortunately no. My brain is a slug. It functions ridiculously slow. Do you finish an essay of thought in merely a minute?
No. It takes me a couple of hours. You take your time to come up with your distinct opinion. But if I ask you to think on it aloud, what are you going to speak?
Well... tell me how exactly do you feel?
Be quiet for a moment. Let me regain that feeling. ...It's like I'm free from every contamination of this world, from every mental burden of every kind, I feel like riding the wind and wandering over the meadows...
Hmm...
...it feels so out of the world, you show me new dimensions of the universe, life is blissfully real...
You must be exaggerating.
I'm not exaggerating. This is the best way I can describe that feeling. Tell me how it happens.
Your words make me wonder if it's me or something else that's influencing you.
What do you mean?
I've heard such experiences being recounted by the devotees of psychedelics.
As far as I'm concerned, I've never used them.
Okay, then tell me if you're feeling the same way at this moment.
No, but I typically feel so in your company.
Does it happen when you're with anyone else, say your friend or your father or when you're with yourself?
No, not when I'm with myself or any of them, but yes, I can recollect some songs that are equally enriching.
But I've not imbibed much music into my existence. Still... I think we resonate well together.
Yes, does that explain it?
It doesn't explain that... Why do you need an explanation at all? See, all this while, while you're seeking an explanation, you're bereft of that experience. Moreover, music also gives you the same sensation.
Some specific music.
Yes. So that feeling arises from within. It's the beauty inside you that surfaces when you discover an analogous beauty outside you.
That makes sense. Tell me more.
It's sort of induction or interference. One thing gets more powerful when it meets another thing of similar nature.
Then do you feel the same way in my presence?
That's not an easy thing to answer. All I can say is that I feel good when I get your attention.
Simply good?
Exceptionally good.
Good.
You've expressed it best. I don't have a better way to put that feeling in words.
Is it necessary that the other person or thing too feels the same way? For instance, does the music I listen to feel my beauty?
That's a clever question.
Can you answer that?
Hmm... Music is more of an absolute and abstract thing. It is essentially a construct of a set of emotions. When it interacts with you, the way you react to it invigorates it. It must, in my view, perceive the wonder in you.
So it does not matter if it’s a manifested consciousness or unmanifested consciousness, it will feel about me how I feel about it.
Not quite so. Manifested consciousness like a human being has an ego that can morph the feeling it experiences.
So, is it better to love an unmanifested consciousness like music or dance than to love a manifested consciousness.
Yes, right. It’s better to dedicate your feelings to music or dance or art or science or God but it’s not easier. Developing a feeling, positive or negative, for an object that can express itself visibly is not difficult.
I get it. But I wonder if my original question has been answered in the meanwhile.
What was your original question?
I can’t figure that out. It has become obscure in the meanwhile.
Nonetheless, I enjoyed embedding my thoughts in yours.
Likewise with me. I’ve regained that beautiful feeling in the meanwhile.
Feathers and Leaves
​
Chapter 1
When did it all begin? I can't say. Which one of us first fell in love with the other, I can't say. But I first met her at a bookstore. Seeing me picking up one book from the shelf, she had spoken to me, "That's a beautiful book. Go for it!" I looked around and saw a spectacled girl of wheatish complexion gazing at me. I had two books in hand. So I asked, "This one?" I raised the book I just picked. "Yes", she replied. "How do you know? Have you read it?" "Much of it." It was an anthology of short romantic stories written by a dozen unpopular authors. "Okay, if you say so. It's bit costly though." I remarked. For a mere 250 pages, it was priced at 275 rupees. "They are offering ten percent off." She was quick to point out. "Still..." And I retained the book in my hand. If it was not for her, I would perhaps have put it back to its place. "What are you checking out?" "Undecided so far. I've read all the goodreads I can see here." "Oh!" So she is a voracious reader. I should guessed that from her specs. "Do you want to suggest any?" She spoke in a low voice. I thought for sometime and then showed her the other book in my other hand. I was expecting to hear that that too had been crossed off her reading list. It was a collection of medieval fairy tales. I don't think many new age readers visit this genre unless someone is an avid indiscriminate reader who gulps anything of good literary merit. Well... for me the font also matters. And both those two books were printed in fonts that turns me on.
On my recommendation, she took the book from me and browsed through it. "Are you okay with fairy tales?" "Of course! I adore them. In fact, some of these tales I'm familiar with already." "Okay. Then you don't want it I think." "Are there more like this?" "Not sure. Let me check." I walked to the shelf where I had found it. She followed me. After a tiresome search for half an hour, I stumbled upon one. I thought of adding it to my cart as well. I could find only one copy. So I enquired the shop assistant but he was clueless. She had migrated to another shelf in the meanwhile. Should I just include my find in my cart and check out or should I sacrifice it to her? Incidentally, this one was priced 50 rupees less for the about the same amount of material. I chose to approach her.
"Here you go." I presented my find to her. She briefly investigated it and decided to have it. That was the only book she purchased after spending an hour or so there. I would have to stay longer there as my aunt had not yet arrived. She had asked me to wait and had not showed up yet. My texts and calls too went unanswered. She had told me not to call though. "Are you not done yet?" The girl asked me. "I'm done but I'm supposed to wait here till my aunt comes." "How long will it be?" "Can't say. An hour at most I guess." "Did you contact her?" "I tried but didn't get a response." "Let's go to the cafe nearby. If she comes, she can call." I thought for a while and then left with her and my two companions. "It'd be a nice way to spend the money saved from discount." I said to myself. The street was not much crowded although it was a holiday. But the cafe was all occupied. We waited for ten minutes or so. And as soon as we were about to go elsewhere, one table was clear. Meanwhile I received a text from my aunt that she would be back in half an hour. I was supposed to treat aunt to lunch.
We occupied the only table available and started reading the menu card. There were a dozen kinds of coffee and a dozen snacks. We ordered and started to absorb the surroundings. "Are you also waiting for someone?" I posed my small curiosity to her. "No... not like you." She replied. "Not like me?" I repeated in my head and kept quiet. Seconds flew by. "We haven't yet introduced ourselves yet and we are hanging out in a cafe." "True! You go first." "Fine... I'm Anvita, doing my masters in botany." "Botanist!" I mused. "I'm Vipin, doing my bachelor's in mathematics." "Maths!" She reacted. I felt I've come across another girl in a hate affair with the subject. "Yeah, why? I don't think girls with glasses hate it." "Is it so?" "Usually." "Well... then here is one." "Why do you hate it? Did you have any bad experience related to it?" "No, nothing in particular. I just avoid it. It's not the most hated thing then in my life though." "What is that then?" "Bad writing. A badly written book. Incorrect language..." "Oh... I can relate to it. I also like it good and correct." I made an ambiguous comment. "Which year are you studying in?" "You?" "Second." "Me too." I sounded as if we are even whereas it certainly wasn't so.
I learnt that she was in the locale with her friend who left with her boyfriend before she stepped into the bookstore, and her friend was not coming back because her boyfriend is not bringing her back! She learnt that I may leave with my aunt for lunch because I've qualified in a scholarship exam, and congratulated me. "I've no idea how I cleared the exam as I was not so confident and satisfied with my performance." "But you did." "Yeah, I got through." "That's all that matters." She spoke assuringly. The order arrived and we set on our way through it. She took off her glasses. She looked different but she's pretty with or without it. "Do I look better?" She enquired. "Is it convenient with them off?" "Right now, yes." "Well... that's all that matters!"
My aunt arrived at the café of which I had informed her by text. We had finished our snacks by then. I introduced her to my aunt who invited her to join us on our lunch date. Anvita was reluctant but complied on my insistence. We walked into an empty restaurant. Enough of crowd! Anvita was visibly relieved too. But she was now in a swarm of words. My aunt is quite a talker and was taking good interest in her. We sat ourselves at a corner. I began the flipping the pages of the romantic anthology in my possession. Suddenly, the title of one of the tales halted me. The title was "That's all that matters", and the writer, Anvita Paul. "Is this by you?" I did not suppress my curiosity. "Yes... but before you infer incorrectly, I'm not a writer. This is my only writing that has been published." "What else have you written besides it?" "A bunch of stories like this and some incomplete novels. That's it." "Hey, I think I read one of your piece online and I emailed you my praise for it. We exchanged a couple of emails following that. Am I right?" "What's your name, aunty?" "Rasna." "Rasna! Oh yes... I remember. You drew a portrait of me and you wished to meet me." "Right! And you expressed your inability." "Yes, I was living in Shimla at that time, caught up in my studies. But I said I would meet you if you visit Shimla and let me know." "I've not been there in the meantime, else I'd have told you." "Well... destiny has brought you two together after all." I remarked, and added, "And it has also brought the food to us." A part of our order had arrived." All of us had a good short laugh as we proceeded to satiate our appetite.
My aunt acted as a catalyst in our budding relationship. Anvita and I started meeting often and spent lots of hours in each other's company.
After that day, I met Anvita on the weekend of the same week. She had asked me to join her on a nature trip. Her friend and friend's boyfriend would also be there. One of her professors, Dr. Kusum, would be leading them. I had told Anvita the directions to my place, and at 9:30 in the morning, she arrived at my gate in her professor's car. I joined them on their journey. The other two joined us soon as the five of us rode on to the botanical garden. In the car, I sat in the front while Anvita and the couple sat in the back. But both of us managed to have a good conversation through texts. The teacher appreciated my interest in the trip and assured that it would be a rewarding experience. She was in her thirties, fair complexioned, healthy body, charming face, expressive eyes and hair reaching half way down her back. She had a dynamic and exuberant personality anyone would admire. Anvita knew quite a lot about her and she eagerly educated me.
Dr. Kusum Kulkarni is a vegetarian, hails from an affluent family, trained in both Kathak and Bharat Natyam, married to a computer engineer and has a daughter and a son. Her father is a retired maths professor of considerable reputation in the maths community. Her mother has been living at a sanctorium in the outskirts of the city for twelve years. Her father had a relationship with an American student, Roxanna, and fathered a daughter. The affair did not last long and she moved away with her daughter to the US.
We reached our destination in an hour. There were several other people, some in groups, some on their own, moving around taking interest in the diverse flora of the sanctuary. We had some refreshments and embarked inside. The weather was sunny. It was the time of spring. Mild breeze tossed her wild hair every now and then. It was a verdant sight all around. She was keeping close to me. And I was careful not to stay adjacent to her as long as she likes it. Her friend was walking hand in hand with her boyfriend, humming romantic numbers and clicking random pictures. The teacher had a catalog of all the species of plants in the garden. Sometimes, she would point at some rare species and mention its identity and some of its features holding a camcorder in her right hand. It was a leisurely fun to be in that place at that time with those folks.
Anvita's friend, Antara and Antara's boyfriend Vasant were Anvita's classmates. It so happened that one day both of them were punished for some petty individual offences by one of their teachers who requested them to keep out of his class for that day. So they hung around, gossipped and enjoyed each other's company. Since then they were inseparable.
We entered the gorgeous orchid garden at noon. Those exotic flowers with their rich colors and scent thrilled our senses. Teacher was busy reading about them from the information plaques. The lovebirds were getting cozy and kissing each other every once in a while. I'm sure it had not escaped the eyes of our teacher but she was cool with their open romance. And so were us — Anvita and I.
But an unpleasant incident spoiled that fun — for her and me. It was pretty crowded inside the orchid garden. And Anvita and I were struggling to stay together. We had not yet held each other's hand at any point of time since our first meeting. But suddenly when once again we lost each other among the people and Anvita rediscovered me, she came up to me and asked, "You think you can get away with that, huh?" I did not get what she said. "With what?" "Don't pretend. I know it was you." "What are you talking about?" She said in a low voice, "Did you not feel my breast a while ago?" "Certainly not. Do you think I'd do such a thing?" "Well... I don't think. But please be honest. I won't mind if it was you." "I definitely did not. What happened?" "Someone sneaked his hand under my top and felt my breast. By the time, I could realize what happened and figure out who it was, I found myself lost once again in the swarm of strangers. I thought it was you." "Assume that it was me and get rid of the bitterness. I'm sorry for I offended you." "You should be sorry for leaving my side." She said this and held my hand. A strange feeling of responsibility dawned on me and I adjusted my grip of her hand.
Shortly thereafter, we with our teacher walked out of the garden. Vasant and Antara were already outside. We had a good lunch at an eatery and resumed our tour of the park. Anvita was now with her teacher conversing on the way. Was she talking about the unpleasant experience she had at the orchid garden? I went near and tried to overhear. No, they were discussing Botany. I did not want her to relive that moment.
Tired of the wanderings, we sat at a spot amidst the nature. Vasant and Antara requested their teacher to recite some dance which the latter generously did. That cheered us all as well as some onlookers who chanced to look in our direction. Antara sang some of the songs she was humming earlier. Vasant did a stand-up stint which cracked everyone up, except me. I was enjoying watching a girl in splits.
We returned by 4 o'clock. Anvita looked fine during the rest of the trip. On our way back, she sat in the front, while I sat in the back with her classmates. We did not chat like before. She said her phone had run out of battery. Was it an excuse?
​
Chapter 2
​
She did not speak to me for the next five days. No reply to my texts or calls. We were in different colleges situated quite far apart. And on the Friday, I went to attend a seminar at her college. I had not informed her of my visit as she was not talking to me. My last attempt to reach her was on Tuesday. She had not blocked me though but I feared she might. I considered blocking her before she would but I did not. The seminar was over by 5:30 and walked to the refreshment area. I grabbed a plate of snacks and took a seat at a table. There was a girl sitting by herself having the same set of snacks. She was fair with freckled cheeks and curly brown hair. Dressed in a white top with horizontal blue strips and grey jeans, she looked fabulous. How should I start a conversation? I reflected for a while. Luckily she had no headphones in her ears, so she would hear me if I say something.
"Are you from this college?" I did not begin with a Hi, did she mind? It took a moment to get her attention. "Yeah." She responded. "Which course?" I extended my conversation. "B.Sc. Chemistry" "Third year, right?" I made a guess to surprise her in case I'm right. "No. I've passed out. Having a year off." She explained on her own. "Okay." Should I ask her name? Why was I taking interest in her? Should I introduce myself? Not until she was not interested. I quietly finished my food. She was still working on hers. I collected a cup of coffee and walked away from her. She did not bother. And then I saw her as I was having the last sip. Anvita was talking enjoying her food with her classmates. I started in her direction for sometime considering whether I should confront her. But I shunned the idea. I grabbed another cup of coffee and was on my way out of the cafeteria when my phone buzzed. "Don't leave. Wait for me." Anvita texted me. A streak of joy creeped inside me.
I did not leave the area and fixed myself at a spot where she could see me. As was having the last sip of my second cup, a voice asked me, "What's your name?" I turned. It was the girl I ate with. "Vipin." "Hi, I'm Nancy. Waiting for someone?" What should I say? I looked towards Anvita. She was not looking. Had she already seen me with her? Then or earlier? I wondered. "No." I said, just being curious about what she would say following "No". "That's good." And she stood next to me without an utterance. Anvita left her seat, took leave of her friends and walked towards us. Then ignoring me completely, she took Nancy's hand and left the place. I was bewildered. Her behavior froze me for a moment. Should I go and enquire her about the message? Wasn't it meant for me? Or did she expect me to follow her? I went after her to see if she had stopped for me. She had not. She was getting more and more distant from where I was watching her.
"Did you like it?" "Sorry?" "Hi, I'm Nancy." "Hi, you know me?" "Ya, kind of. I've admired you from a distance." "Admired me? For what?" "For the way you are." "Okay." "May I have your number?" "Sure." They exchanged their numbers. "Ya, I liked the talk. What about you?" "I liked it as well, but I did not ask you about the talk, did I?" "Didn't you just ask if I liked it?" "I meant something else." "What's that you meant?" "Turn around." Anvita turned around and in a moment she felt a hand under her shirt over her chest. It shocked her. Nancy swiftly withdrew her hand. Anvita turned at her and laid a slap on her face. Nancy did not move as Anvita walked away to join her friends.
Nancy sat down at a table with her food. A boy soon joined her and began a chat with her. She recognized him. He's the same boy who was with Anvita that day at the botanical garden. She entertained his interest in her. How nice it would have been if Anvita had entertained her interest in her! Nancy glanced in the direction Anvita was sitting. The latter did not notice the covetous glance. Nancy finished her course and left her seat. She saw that boy standing at a corner having a cup of coffee or tea. He had not mentioned it. She had not asked him his name. She walked up to him.
They had just entered into a conversation when suddenly Vipin looked away and naturally her eyes followed his. Anvita was coming in their direction with her eyes hooked on the girl. "What is she going to do?" And before Vanita could surmise any answer to her thought, Anvita pulled her by hand and took her away from Vismay.
Silent Choice
​​
A boy and a girl meets on a voyage and chooses to fall for each other. On the journey, the girl is accompanied by her brother, sister-in-law and suitor.
​
Chapter 1
I still was fond of my solitude but my attraction for her dulled that fondness. I longed for her company, to share with her the treasure I had acquired from my solitary meditation. Although I wished to have her at my side, my pride prevented me to shift myself. Another hour passed, she hardly left her place, nor did I. I felt like jumping off into the ocean if she were not visiting me. But then I got an idea! The idea was to approach her but not making my obvious infatuation for her which I have developed over the past hour or so.
"Are you planning to jump into the ocean?"
"Why do you say so?"
"I think so."
"Why do you think so?"
"Aren't you waiting for me to empty the deck so that you may execute your plan?"
"It's none of your business what I do or wish to do."
"It concerns me."
"Why should it concern you?"
"Because I believe surrendering to the sea won't alleviate your suffering."
"Oh."
And she stood there facing the sea like before not adding any sentence after that "Oh". I returned to my position, gazed at her for a while, then gazed at the peaceful waters. Not much later, when I again looked in her direction, she was gone. I looked around but couldn't spot her. Perhaps, she had returned to her cabin. After a while as I was recovering from her disappearance, I felt somebody near me. Before I turned to have a look, that somebody spoke.
"Are you planning to jump into the ocean?"
I identified the voice. It was her. Should I give her the same answer that she gave me to the same question? I need not.
"I was at one time. But when I have another ocean beside me, I shall choose that."
"Oh."
She again fell into her mysterious silence. I took a brief look at her. She has a dusky complexion but aesthetic features. Her two lengths of brown hair drawn in front of her reaching up to her bosom. She wore a simple white frock that did not appear expensive.
"Where is your necklace?"
That was the precious thing I saw on her when I had visited her a while ago.
"I got rid of it."
"Why?"
"It was a gift from my suitor who I find somewhat overbearing. It caused me a great dilemma because it was a really pretty necklace that any girl would be delighted to possess. So I disposed it."
"You mean you submitted that dear thing to the sea?"
"That's what I wished to do. But after a long reflection, I gave it to his sister who does not know where I got it from."
"Are you relieved now?"
"Not fully. I have to convey my rejection to her brother. I can't decide how to go about it. I don't want to sound impolite."
"So that's what concerns you."
"Yes."
"I'm Eugene, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Bytheway!"
"My pleasure. That's not my surname though, Miss..."
"Evelyn."
"The name goes well with you."
"What do you mean?"
"It reflects the dusky glow of yours."
"Oh."
And she went quiet again. And so did I who did not wish to bother her but I was contented with the overlap of her consciousness with mine.
"Have you had your dinner?"
"I haven't."
"Will you join me at dinner?"
"My suitor requested me to join him."
"It's okay."
"But I'm not interested in a dinner with him."
"Then, are you going to eat alone."
"Not if you join me."
"I won't join you if prefer to eat alone."
"I prefer to eat alone in this situation, but I don't mind you joining me."
"Are you all by yourself in this journey?"
"I'm with my brother and sister-in-law."
"Do they know your situation?"
"A little. The suitor is a relative of my sister-in-law. They know his intent but not mine."
"So they're responsible."
"I can't hold them responsible. It's just that my courtesy encouraged and misled him."
"You should hide your courtesy at times and be candid."
"That's a weakness in my character."
"Then use your strength to overcome it."
"I require time to gather that."
"How long?"
"I don't know."
"Do you have anyone else in mind?"
"I know a few boys whom I find better than him. Some are taken and the rest don't vibe with me."
"What about the ocean?"
"What about it?"
"Does it vibe with you?"
"It pretty does. Does it vibe with you?"
"It pretty does."
"Oh."
A long silence prevailed following her "Oh" until we were at the dining table when she said, "Are you depriving anyone of your company by reserving yourself for me?" "No." I quickly reacted, but I realized that's not correct.
"Actually I'm travelling with my ailing grandfather. He sleeps at this hour and usually gets up around midnight for a light meal."
"May I know what the ailment is?"
"He has Parkinson's."
"What are the chances of recovery?"
"The doctors say 5%."
"I hope your grandpa belongs to the 5%."
"I hope your hope turns out true. But what if that means going into coma?"
"Why do you say so?"
"In one of my friend's case whose wife was ill, I prayed that she might be cured of the severe disease she was suffering from. And lo! she was cured the next day but in a few days, she had an accident and went into coma. She hasn't recovered since."
"Oh."
"We should not discuss diseases over dinner. Let's talk something else."
"Well, it was not deliberate."
"What are you doing after dinner?"
"I'm not sure."
"What do you usually do?"
"Sometimes I chat with my brother and sister-in-law, sometimes I read a book to sleep and sometimes I knit some dress."
"Do you knit your own dress?"
"Only one of my dresses which is this. Rest of my works are sold."
"So may I infer that your favourite colour is white?"
"My favourite is yellow. In fact, this dress I did not do for myself. It was sold just like other dresses. But it seems like the girl who bought it did not like it and gave it away to the ragpicker. I bought it from him."
"Wow, I guess this dress has chosen you."
"Having chosen me, let's see what it chooses for me."
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Chapter 2
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The Language of Logic
They met on internet. Rajiv and Rashmi were desperately searching for a match for themselves. They had submitted their Date and Time of Birth to a Horoscope matching website. And to their pleasure they discovered each other. But they were geographically many a distance apart so that it was not so easy to come together. Rajiv was ready to marry but Rashmi wanted to interact him before taking any decision. So they planned a pilgrimage to Kashi. And it happened. On the bank of the Ganges, they sit and conversed to the likening of each other.As they had arrived with their respective parents without intimidating them of their sudden urge to go for the pilgrimage, they informed after they decided to establish the relationship. Their parents had apparently no objection as their horoscopes were in near perfect match. And the two strangers began their new journey smoothly. Thereafter they settled in the same city. Rajiv found a job and Rashmi started a music and painting class at their home.
One day Rashmi revealed to Rajiv a dream she had last night that she saw herself as mother suckling a child which caused her immense bliss. Rajiv told her that he would not copulate with her unless God assured him that the child would be genius. Hearing her husband's humorous and peculiar resolution, Rashmi was simultaneously amused and surprised.That night she again saw a similar dream with the same child in it. But the following day she did not tell Rajiv about it as she patiently awaited the moment. She saw such dreams for seven consecutive nights each time enchanting her. It ceased after she asked the child to come into her womb instead of her dreams.Several days passed after with Rajiv showing no sign of granting love.
One night the little child instructed her into writing something which she accomplished during her sleep. It was three hours past midnight when he husband found her scribbling unconsciously but continuously in her song diary.At first he thought that she must have conceived some lyrics or notes but on inspection it was a string of mathematical symbols and operators which nonetheless were absolutely meaningful. She wrote until sunrise and stopped. She was visibly asleep all the way. Rajiv took the paper and read it and to his utmost amazement it was the solution to the problem he was secretly pondering upon. The solution was magnificent but it was concluded with one problem related to itself. And it was a tougher one which immediately he was clueless about.There was a short sentence in Sanskrit "Gangaasnaanottaram Braahme'dya Dharaayaam Maamaanaya" which transpired as the wish of the soul to arrive. Three hours past midnight, they took bath in the holy river and mated back at home.
While the child was inside the womb, many miracles happen that were beyond common comprehension. But the most recurring miracle was that often Rashmi would lecture on various complex natural topics which Rajiv would be privately contemplating upon. How Rashmi or rather the fetus could know his mind remained the most mysterious matter. Neither of them did refer these things to anyone lest they would not believe or would be overcurious.
One day when Rajiv was taking a bath in the Ganges, he found a very old manuscript floating on the water.He collected it and brought it home. It was a treatise on mathematics compiled quite incomprehensibly in over a hundred pages.On due time the baby was born in its nascent beauty to the joy of the chosen couple. Their parents informed, gladly arrived to see the face of their grandchild. Subsequently, several infantile ceremonies were conducted. The child was named Pratyush. When asked to select an article from a paraphernalia, he did not budge. Worried with no way to figure out what the child wanted, it suddenly occurred to his father to bring the manuscript he previously found in the river-stream. As he presented the same to the slient boy, he placed his palm on it and everyone was overjoyed.
Pratyush gradually grew and gave glipmses of his unusual intellect as he assisted his father in his studies. He was initiated into writing by a temple priest. In a year he developed significant skills in Sanskrit and other Indic languages introduced by his parents and grandparents. He started to script long theses on difficult branches of Mathematics.
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Two Gals
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Smita and Swati, two girls in their early twenties, met during a job interview. Smita bagged the job, but Swati got disappointment. The successful girl offered her warm consolations to her unsuccessful companion, and proposed her a treat on this occasion. Swati accepted the proposal although she was not in the mood of a celebration. Later, Swati got herself placed in another company and she treated Smita to a sumptuous dinner. But soon both of them became busy with their lives and they could not get together for nearly half a year.
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Yimse Yachimin
Mr. Yachimin stepped out of his house at the voice of somebody calling out his first name "Yimse!" which took him by surprise since the last person to know his first name was his wife Nosuchi who died last year from a long illness. Yimse loved her very much but not to the extent of witnessing a hallucination of his late wife. He was a skeptic in these matters but his Nosuchi surpassed him in this regard. She never believed in an extrasensory perception or supernatural story, thanks to her father Mr. Tanahashi who was a geneticist and a staunch atheist, and brought up her daughter after him. Rukoku Tanahashi died six years ago, around the same time when Nosuchi fell sick and never recovered later.
"Yimse!" the voice came again. Mr. Yachimin, an old man in his early seventies, was not frightened at all. He always kept his mind at peace and did not guess much based on hints beforehand. When he moved in the direction of the unfamiliar caller, he met a monk in saintly robes whose placid composure evoked devotion in the onlooker's heart. Mr. Yachimin was instantly humbled and bowed to that magnificent personality.
"Who are you, Sir?" Yimse politely enquired. The monk replied, "Sixty years ago when this house was being built by your father, do you recall, you protested when he proceeded to fell the Bo tree. You compelled him to construct the house without harming the tree. You saved it. I survived 30 years thereafter and died a while before your father died. That tree is me. I'm known by the name Boshi." Yimse listened in astonishment. The holy man continued, "You've grown quite old, Yimse, but your wisdom is sharp as ever. You should begin to contemplate on the truth now before your wisdom wanes and death lays its hands on you. You bide your days in remembering your wife and fishing and making handicrafts, but do not reflect upon the absolute truth. You should do that as per the instructions laid out in the Maninipa teachings inscribed layerwise in the growth rings of the severed Bo tree's lateral section.