There were five of us, seated around a table. It was late in the afternoon, and we were making arrangements for the dinner to be held at the grand table tonight. "Don't place me next to the womenfolk, please," Ed was saying. "They'll babble a lot, and I would be thoroughly tortured." The others gave a nervous laugh. No one spoke against Ed. He was broodier than usual today. So they nodded in agreement. And I, very hesitantly and slowly, put a comforting hand on his hand, which was resting on his lap. I would ask him later, what was bothering him? And then, just as I was framing the possible questions in my mind, to my astonishment, he too, almost reluctantly, placed his other free hand on my hand, covering it. I turned to look at him in surprise. Ed never wore his emotions on his sleeve, leave alone on his hand. This was wildly different. It meant Ed trusted me. And it meant a lot to me.
Suddenly, we hear shouting. It was Giri. He was now streaking across the room, the curls of his hair flying amok, like Medusa's serpents. "It's Mischa," he almost yells, breathlessly. "He's not to be seen anywhere. I've searched the entire mansion. He's not here!" By now, the occupants of the house have all gathered around, alarmed by the shouting. Maa speaks up, "Mischa must've gone out somewhere... he'll be back. Why are you so worried?" And why would Maa be? Maa - the reason I was with Ed and not with Mischa. "He's been missing for 8 hours now." Giri replies, flustered now. "I don't think he's 'gone out' for that long. Besides, there's nothing around here except for the desert. Where would he go?" He had a point. Soon, we were all searching for Mischa, his name echoing in the mansion. I was getting restless. This was not like Mischa. He didn't disappear just like that, without informing anyone. I remembered his face, with that silly, crooked smile spread across it - the one I fell in love with, many years ago. Apart from his spirited ways, funny one-liners and I-give-a-damn-attitude. I was very, very fond of Mischa. And I would still do anything for him, Ed or no Ed.
And then it struck me. The temple adjoining the mansion! Mischa's favorite hangout. Not the temple itself (Giri must've already looked in there), but the temple towers housing the mansion's 2 tanks. I began to sprint towards the temple. In that godforsaken outfit they call the saree. Maa had insisted I wear it today and I had, in hindsight, foolishly agreed. I was running like a crazed woman now. Towards the temple and towards the tower housing the dual tanks. Suddenly, Maa was behind me, yelling at me to stop. I turn back to face her. "Where do you think you're going? You're not climbing those tanks. Its dangerous." I began to tell her that I've climbed the tanks with Mischa many times before. But she didn't know that and I didn't plan on informing her now. "Maa, I have to go. Maybe Mischa is hurt or even worse, unconscious up there... I HAVE to go check!" Maa, on any other day, would've retorted back with a plethora of replies to that, especially in matters concerning Mischa. But she didn't. "Go," she said. Like the father to his daughter in Dilwaale Dulhaniya... But this is no movie. And I do not wait for the director to say, "CUT!" So I run again, with Maa yelling behind me to be careful. I hike up the godawful saree to my knee and climb onto the first step of the ladder. The first tank was easy. It was only a few feet high. The second was the toughest. And it didn't help that I feared heights. True, I had easily negotiated the tanks several times with Mischa, several years ago; but that was with HIM. When he was around, I could even challenge Goliath and easily come out winning. But now I was alone, and the height scared the daylights outta me. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes partially. I can do this. For Mischa.
The late afternoon sun glinted mercilessly in my eyes. This was more difficult than I thought. Almost instinctively, I turned to look down. Bad idea. I was in a very, very precarious position. Several, several feet above ground zero. My legs began to tremble and my palms began to sweat. But the thought of Mischa up there kept me going. I yelled out his name, but there was no answer. Slowly, but steadily, I reached the top of the ladder and climbed on to the second tank. Relief! But that was short-lived. There was no one here. I was dejected. Where are you Mischa? I yelled out his name again. And then, to my great comfort, I heard his voice. His beautiful, wondrous voice. "What do you want?" It was coming from the loft above the tank. How the hell did he get up there? "You come right down now, Mischa," I shouted, desperately wanting to see him. "Who sent you here?" he asked. I thought about this for awhile and replied, "Maa". To that he laughed, "Which one?" "Both," I said. The mortal and the immortal one. I needed both to reach here. "Go back. I'm not coming down," he stubbornly said. "Come down, please Mischa. Whatever you want to talk about, lets talk down here. Its not safe up there." No reply. I yell out his name again, pleading and begging now. And again. And again. And yet again. But the silence was deafening. Mocking. Silently chiding.
And then, I hear a thud.
It sickened me to the core, that sound. It was so loud, it pierced my eardrums, traveled all the way down my throat and pounded at my chest. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn't. I stood there, transfixed on that damn tank. I stood like that, the pallu of my saree bellowing around me like a cape, for 10 whole minutes. From far away, I could hear a mild commotion, maybe someone yelling out my name, but those voices were immaterial. Insignificant. Just like me, a speck of dust in the whole wide universe. Mischa would know, he was one with the universe now. Leaving me alone here. Just a speck of unimportant, atomic dust. I collapse down to the floor. The sun has given way to clouds now, the sky darkening swiftly. A storm is arriving, maybe. But nothing as dark and turbulent as the one that has just arrived at the hole in my heart. I shut my eyes and began to pray slowly, like a monk chanting a silent verse..... waiting for the storm to pass. Waiting for the world to end. Waiting for the darkness to descend. Infinity awaits..... and I can hear its mild chuckle now.
Note: The above is an excerpt from a dream I had last night. The characters in this fictional account have no semblance whatsover to any person living or dead. My dream was so vivid, I had to put it down. Yes, it is dark and depressing. But not all dreams are happy, bubble-gummy, right?
Suddenly, we hear shouting. It was Giri. He was now streaking across the room, the curls of his hair flying amok, like Medusa's serpents. "It's Mischa," he almost yells, breathlessly. "He's not to be seen anywhere. I've searched the entire mansion. He's not here!" By now, the occupants of the house have all gathered around, alarmed by the shouting. Maa speaks up, "Mischa must've gone out somewhere... he'll be back. Why are you so worried?" And why would Maa be? Maa - the reason I was with Ed and not with Mischa. "He's been missing for 8 hours now." Giri replies, flustered now. "I don't think he's 'gone out' for that long. Besides, there's nothing around here except for the desert. Where would he go?" He had a point. Soon, we were all searching for Mischa, his name echoing in the mansion. I was getting restless. This was not like Mischa. He didn't disappear just like that, without informing anyone. I remembered his face, with that silly, crooked smile spread across it - the one I fell in love with, many years ago. Apart from his spirited ways, funny one-liners and I-give-a-damn-attitude. I was very, very fond of Mischa. And I would still do anything for him, Ed or no Ed.
And then it struck me. The temple adjoining the mansion! Mischa's favorite hangout. Not the temple itself (Giri must've already looked in there), but the temple towers housing the mansion's 2 tanks. I began to sprint towards the temple. In that godforsaken outfit they call the saree. Maa had insisted I wear it today and I had, in hindsight, foolishly agreed. I was running like a crazed woman now. Towards the temple and towards the tower housing the dual tanks. Suddenly, Maa was behind me, yelling at me to stop. I turn back to face her. "Where do you think you're going? You're not climbing those tanks. Its dangerous." I began to tell her that I've climbed the tanks with Mischa many times before. But she didn't know that and I didn't plan on informing her now. "Maa, I have to go. Maybe Mischa is hurt or even worse, unconscious up there... I HAVE to go check!" Maa, on any other day, would've retorted back with a plethora of replies to that, especially in matters concerning Mischa. But she didn't. "Go," she said. Like the father to his daughter in Dilwaale Dulhaniya... But this is no movie. And I do not wait for the director to say, "CUT!" So I run again, with Maa yelling behind me to be careful. I hike up the godawful saree to my knee and climb onto the first step of the ladder. The first tank was easy. It was only a few feet high. The second was the toughest. And it didn't help that I feared heights. True, I had easily negotiated the tanks several times with Mischa, several years ago; but that was with HIM. When he was around, I could even challenge Goliath and easily come out winning. But now I was alone, and the height scared the daylights outta me. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes partially. I can do this. For Mischa.
The late afternoon sun glinted mercilessly in my eyes. This was more difficult than I thought. Almost instinctively, I turned to look down. Bad idea. I was in a very, very precarious position. Several, several feet above ground zero. My legs began to tremble and my palms began to sweat. But the thought of Mischa up there kept me going. I yelled out his name, but there was no answer. Slowly, but steadily, I reached the top of the ladder and climbed on to the second tank. Relief! But that was short-lived. There was no one here. I was dejected. Where are you Mischa? I yelled out his name again. And then, to my great comfort, I heard his voice. His beautiful, wondrous voice. "What do you want?" It was coming from the loft above the tank. How the hell did he get up there? "You come right down now, Mischa," I shouted, desperately wanting to see him. "Who sent you here?" he asked. I thought about this for awhile and replied, "Maa". To that he laughed, "Which one?" "Both," I said. The mortal and the immortal one. I needed both to reach here. "Go back. I'm not coming down," he stubbornly said. "Come down, please Mischa. Whatever you want to talk about, lets talk down here. Its not safe up there." No reply. I yell out his name again, pleading and begging now. And again. And again. And yet again. But the silence was deafening. Mocking. Silently chiding.
And then, I hear a thud.
It sickened me to the core, that sound. It was so loud, it pierced my eardrums, traveled all the way down my throat and pounded at my chest. I wanted to throw up, but I couldn't. I stood there, transfixed on that damn tank. I stood like that, the pallu of my saree bellowing around me like a cape, for 10 whole minutes. From far away, I could hear a mild commotion, maybe someone yelling out my name, but those voices were immaterial. Insignificant. Just like me, a speck of dust in the whole wide universe. Mischa would know, he was one with the universe now. Leaving me alone here. Just a speck of unimportant, atomic dust. I collapse down to the floor. The sun has given way to clouds now, the sky darkening swiftly. A storm is arriving, maybe. But nothing as dark and turbulent as the one that has just arrived at the hole in my heart. I shut my eyes and began to pray slowly, like a monk chanting a silent verse..... waiting for the storm to pass. Waiting for the world to end. Waiting for the darkness to descend. Infinity awaits..... and I can hear its mild chuckle now.
Note: The above is an excerpt from a dream I had last night. The characters in this fictional account have no semblance whatsover to any person living or dead. My dream was so vivid, I had to put it down. Yes, it is dark and depressing. But not all dreams are happy, bubble-gummy, right?
7 comments:
It had the clarity and the freshness of an immediate experience..... it dint seem to me as a dream...the characters especially were delineated with exceptional vividness...they seemed to grow on you and evoke life like images in your own mind....mast :)
Thanks Shikz.... that's why I had to scribble it down as soon as I got up, and before I forget it. It was so lifelike, it was as if the events were unfolding in some other dimension of the universe right then!
Wow! Some dream, that! Awesomely written, Avanti :)
Thank you Sumit :)
I would say this is your strongest piece of writing ever. Even though I knew it was a dream within the first few lines (not sure how but something about the style in which you wrote --> which again indicates how well it was written that I was able to glean it was a dream even without you stating that) I still couldn't breathe as I read it. Very fasinating how it stirred up tremendous emotion even though I had no connection to the characters from before, nor did I know them.
Your writing does have an exaggerated style to it. But even so, I am wondering if you should contemplate a career change? Or a side career?
Reema
Good post..........
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Marvelous…..
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