Serendipity
He disembarks from his SUV and hefting his travel pack over his shoulder he studies the quaint cottage like guest house. It had been recommended on one of the travel blogs which had claimed for it all the facilities that other places usually lacked- situated away from the common din it offered a panoramic view, excellent cuisine with charming hosts.
He is greeted by a middle aged woman draped in carmine cotton, her tresses pulled back in a chignon. She has an attractive face, all cheekbones and pleasant smiles. Her husband, a tall and lean man gives him instructions about his room. They have a small talk about his sojourn over a cup of coffee after which he is shown to his room by the affable host.
"Mr.Khurana would you like the dinner to be served in your room or would you prefer joining us in the dining hall?"
"I'll join you all and please call me Maan," he says.
Loneliness, his only constant companion sulks in a corner at being ditched at the first available opportunity. As he enters his room loneliness stealthily comes to him and very surreptitiously whispers in his ears, "Just a few days reprieve it is,and goes on to settle itself in another corner.
The room is spacious and cozy. He walks to a window; there are two, each of them opening to a bucolic view. The zephyr touches his face and ruffles his hair and whispers something in a language unknown to him. He turns, the journey through the crooked roads has robbed him off energy and the sight of bed calls out to him. He decides to take a nap; there are still a few hours for the dinner.
The food is as ambrosial as the aroma floating to his room had promised it to be. The conversation has come to a standstill after a short discussion over his next day's itinerary. The silence is interrupted by the clunking of the spoons against the china and his hostess' occasional would you like some more this and that'. They make an amiable company but he isn't a conversationalist and he would rather listen than talk. His interest is particularly drawn to the son of his hosts, Mrinal. His long feral, curly hair frames his cherubic face. He is sitting next to him and eating more from Maan's plate than his own. The child's mother has admonished him but the boy remains undeterred. At last Maan intervenes, "It is okay. I don't mind. He has tried befriending the child but the boy has rejected all his friendly overtures and has made it clear he is interested only in his plate and nothing else.
"I'm so sorry... I slept in and didn't realize it was time..."
He is enjoying Lwang latta, the dessert ,when that voice stalls his hands midway. It is familiar, the voice. A flash of fuchsia crosses him and a chair next to Mrinal is pulled back and she seats herself on it.
"I hope some food is left. I'm starving. Hey kiddo! Eating alone huh?" she says and then without any warning she turns her face and looks straight at him.
A second passes. Then two. The room goes still. The contraction of the cardiac muscles, the flowing of blood, these processes have never been so conspicuous. It is a reminder that somewhere in the cavity of his chest that hollow, muscular fist sized organ still exists.
"Oh!" she utters, the surprise flickering in her honey brown irises. "Hello," she adds as an afterthought.
She remembers him. He hadn't expected her to. Joy mixes with the blood that thrums in his veins.
"It's ...it's been a long time. How have you been?" He asks when the initial surprise at finding her here fades and another emotion replaces it.
"A long time indeed," she says to his shirt's collar and then very slowly raises her eyes, "Well, I'm good .What about you?"
"I'm fine too," he says meeting her eyes before resting them on some other safe spot, "Vacationing?"
"Sort of. And you? Business trip?"
"No," he says. And then after a few moments he whispers in cryptic words, "Escaping."
"Ms.Pathak we knocked twice but since you didn't answer we thought you wanted to rest so we did not disturb you," says their hostess.
Ms.Pathak? His eyes inadvertently move to that finger, the one that's believed to be associated with vena amoris. Million questions swirl in his mind, crossing barriers in milliseconds they reach the tip of his tongue, he suppresses the desire to give them a free rein. He brings his gaze to his own finger. There is a mark around his ring finger that is still to fade.
"Oh! I sleep like a zombie," she says smiling at Mr. and Mrs.Aggarwal, their host.
"When did you come here?" she asks him as she serves herself some Pilaf (pulao with peas and carrot), the speciality of the dinner tonight.
"A few hours ago," he answers.
"I reached here in the afternoon."
"You took train?" he asks her.
"Yup. Took me around eight hours. Have you visited Panchmarhi before?"
"No. Have you?"
"I visited this place two years ago. It's beautiful. It's like discovering a hidden treasure. I'm sure you'd enjoy it."
"I'll take your word for it."
"This tastes like heaven. Pray tell me,Mrs. Aggarwal how did you make this?" she asks their hostess. Mrs.Aggarwal blushes before she proceeds to share her secret recipe.
"Ms.Pathak you would want to go sightseeing tomorrow. There's a honeymoon couple staying here. They've booked a gypsy, you can hitch a ride with them."
He watches her as she contemplates for few minutes. Her hair is twisted into a loose bun and he wishes to know if her hair still is short and wild as it used to be.
"Mr.Aggarwal, I can't travel with a honeymoon couple. I don't find myself comfortable around them. It feels like I'm intruding their privacy. Don't we have any other option?"
Mrs.Aggarwal looks at him and asks," Mr.Khurana, What are your plans? Will you need a gypsy?"
"I have my SUV. I plan to drive around myself."
"Great!" she exclaims and then turns to Ms.Pathak, "I presume you both know each other. So Ms.Pathak why don't you both go together. Since you have visited this place before you have an idea of this place as well and thus you can guide him."
He waits for her response with bated breath.
"It's a good idea but," she drawls out and then looks at him, "Do you mind?" she asks hesitantly.
"No."
A small smile graces her lips. " Good. So we leave at eight tomorrow morning. First Chauragarh then..."
His heart beating hard against his chest he listens as she lists the places that they must visit tomorrow.
"Thank you for the wonderful dinner," he says pushing his chair back, "Good night."
He then turns and catches her eyes, "It was nice talking to you. See you tomorrow morning." She whispers back a soft good night to him.
The night is dark; the room is illuminated by moonlight that filters through the windows. He is searching his heart, joining dots, it takes a few minutes. Earlier it used to take just a few seconds. The memories covering the distance of years came floating to him.
His first sight of hers had been six years ago at Delhi School of Management.
When he'd first stepped inside the college, adrenaline had kicked in. It was an embarking of a new journey that was to take him a step closer to his dream. Excitement and enthusiasm both had been bubbling inside him.
In the orientation program, the eager and happy students sitting inside the amphitheatre like classroom were busy conversing about new classes and adventures that lay ahead of them. That's when he'd first seen her.
Olive skin, soul seizing eyes and dark hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head. She had been wearing a T-shirt that hung loosely over her petite frame paired with light wash denims and sneakers. Her careless way of dressing had contrasted well with the sea of immaculately dressed first year MBA students. He had been sitting right at the front; Front seats had been a habit inculcated long back in school and it had followed him here as well; the seat next to him had been vacant. She had walked past him and his seat and settled herself right at the back. Moments after another girl in a white sequined dress had walked in. She was tall and beautiful, and with coal black eyes and straight hair that reached past her waist, she certainly was a head turner. Flaunting her dazzling smile, she had sat next to him.
" Hi, I am Srinidhi Cyriac from Kerala", she had said in a chirpy voice.
While he'd lend ears to the girl sitting next to him, his thoughts were focused on a certain pair of soul seizing eyes. He had wanted to know her name.
And he'd come to know soon.
GP, that's what her friends called her. But he didn't understand their need to shorten an already short and sweet name, a canorous four letter word - Geet. Geet Pathak.
The college elections were near. Campaigns and speeches were in full swing. Promises were made and favors drawn. The votes of first years carried a lot of weight. Since they were new, no matter how old they were, they were impressionable. He was trying to avoid a senior who was hell bent on taking a precious hour of his in exchange of long lecture he'd to give about the changes his party would bring in. "Gymkhana needs an overhaul. Sports are neglected. No facilities. Vote for Anil. He's the guy who can bring changes. He has it in him the makings of a leader." Just insert a new name every time but the promises and lectures, they were all the same. He was walking fast checking on his back that's when he collided with someone. Too clich? Now that he thought about it, his life did have some moments borrowed from Bollywood.
"I'm sorry," she'd said.
Yes. His story had started with a sorry.
"No please I am sorry. I wasn't looking."
"If you say so", she said and was ready to leave.
"Hi. I'm Maan Khurana."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Of course."
And she had walked away.
~~**~~**~~
It had been raining one evening. He was leaving for his hostel after his classes when he had spotted her in the portico. She was once again wearing one of her baggy T-shirt and knee length jeans with her hair tied up in a knot on the top of her head and then how could he forget those blue sneakers. She was struggling to open her umbrella. After a few moments of hesitation, he'd walked to her.
"May I?
Her friend standing next to her had gaped at him while Geet had silently handed him the umbrella. It had taken a few attempts before the umbrella had given in.
"Here, he'd said.
"Thanks. And she'd walked away once again.
~~**~~**~~
A month had passed in his new college and he was still busy exploring his college campus trying to find spots of solitude. He'd had soon found one behind the staircase that led to the old building. The next day during the free hours he'd reached the spot and sat there, his books spread in front of him.
"Hey, this is my secret place. I found it first", he heard a female voice. He'd looked up to find Geet.
"I didn't know," he'd said while picking up his books.
"Hold on... wait a sec. Where are you going?"
"To find another place."
She had smiled. And everything had faded in the background. And he'd simply stood there not knowing what to say. Your smile is hypnotic, would it be the right thing to say he'd wondered.
"Aren't you too polite?! Now sit down and if you promise not to disturb we can share this place".
And thus had begun their silent study sessions. He never spoke much to her. Neither did she. But he would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy those stolen hours. For the time being he was content with the few blessings he had. She was near to him and he could steal a few glances of her when she wasn't watching.
~~**~~**~~
One day they'd been sitting at their hide out place. He was reading as usual when she'd asked, "Do you like traveling?"
"I don't know. I haven't thought about it."
Then she'd closed her book and scooted closer to him and his heart had picked up pace.
In her mellifluous voice she'd said, "I'll tell you a secret. I'm not interested in this corporate job. Once I complete my MBA and I get a placement, I'll start saving money; once I have saved enough I'm going on a world tour."
"So you want to become a globetrotter?" He'd asked trying to hide his smile.
"Yes," had been her simple answer.
~~**~~**~~
Then another day, she'd asked him, "Do you want to see something?"
And some very indecent thoughts had crossed his mind. And he had nodded. She had rolled the full sleeves of her button-down shirt and had shown him her arm. Surprised, he'd asked, "A dragon tattoo?"
She'd nodded like a child, the joy swimming in her eyes.
"Did you by any chance get this idea from The girl with the dragon tattoo?"
"Yes. yes...have you read it?"
"No mystery book escapes my radar Ms.Pathak", he'd boasted.
"Hi five, "she had said. They were slowly falling in an easy camaraderie.
~~**~~**~~
It had been a lovely afternoon when he'd found her in the cafeteria. She had been sitting alone sipping her cold coffee. Her face shining in the sun light streaming from the window, she'd made quite a fetching picture. And he was not the only one to notice that. The senior that sat on the table right across her, his eyes had been busy taking in her beauty. He had strolled to her table, pulled a chair and sat in front of her blocking the senior's view. She had smiled at him. And he'd smiled back. No words spoken. Nothing said.
~~**~~**~~
On a Friday afternoon, he was as usual reading a book when his friend Srinidhi had plopped next to him.
"Maan! You are sitting here and I've been looking for you everywhere."
"Did you need anything?"
"No. Umm...yes. We've planned to go out for drinks. Want to come?"
His eyes sought out Geet. Her hands busy making notes, she was oblivious to her surroundings.
"I think I'll pass."
Srinidhi pouted. "Come on. Don't be a spoil sport. We'll have fun. Please. If you consider me as your friend then you're coming." And he had to acquiesce.
A few months had passed. Srinidhi had become his close friend. There were a lot of men, both seniors and juniors wanting to go out with her, asking her on dates but she used to decline all offers and kept to his side. He'd become an object of envy. Many a times he'd asked her the reason but she'd simply shrugged her shoulders and kept quiet. And then he hadn't given those thoughts much of his time. His mind had been primarily occupied by a woman whose smiles made his day brighter; whose eyes gave him restless nights.
~~**~~**~~
It was Basant Panchmi. His friends had pulled him out of his room and had dragged him to the recreation room. The exams were approaching. He'd been burning midnight oil and really didn't want to be disturbed in his morning sleep.
"Saraswati Puja, Sarees and Sexy girls! Man you aren't allowed to miss such a chance."
He hardly gave a damn. So he'd been in a grumpy mood and not paid attention to Srinidhi or any other girl flaunting their curves in the silk and benarasi or cotton for that matter. But then every man has his exceptions. And Geet was his.
He had heard the chiming of her anklets before he'd seen her. She had walked in white silk with golden border. It was the first time when she had let her hair down. Her dark and wild curls, were short and barely reached her shoulders. Kohl lined eyes and natural blushing cheeks accentuated her lovely face.
Someone among the girls had asked her to sing a song. That day he'd come to know that her voice was as melodious as her name.
"Dekh ke tumko hosh me aana bhool gaye
Yaad rahe tum aur zamana bhool gaye
Jab saamne tum aa jate ho kya janiye kya ho jata hai
Kuch mil jata hai kuch kho jata hai
Kya janiye kya ho jata hai...
Chaha the ye kahenge socha tha who kahenge
Aaye who saamne toh kuch bhi na keh saken bas dekha kiye unko"
The destiny must be playing games with him. Or else how could she have chosen a song that echoed his heart's sentiments?! Could she have known his heart? That was highly unlikely because she had hardly spared him a glance during her performance. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the ground. While she had been singing, an epiphany had hit him.
He was falling for her. Hard. And. Fast.
The occasional silent walks with her down the pedestrian roads that connected the two buildings of the college, the pretending to study in the lawns while she sat with her friends, the long hours spent in libraries while she made her notes, this was becoming a habit. Something he wasn't ready to let go of. He didn't know if she felt something for him. He didn't know if there was something between them. All he knew was that he liked her or may be more than that.
~~**~~**~~
Valentine's Day.
The ebullience among students was palpable. His friend who was single had been sulking and rambling about the uselessness of the day while they'd entered the class. And suddenly everything had fell into silence. All eyes had focused on him. He'd found it weird. And then everything had happened too fast for his mind to process. Srinidhi had come to stand in front of him and the next moment she was sitting on her knees, her hands full of roses stretched in front of her. Amidst wolf calls and whistles he had heard her, "I love you. Will you be my Valentine? He had been shocked. Never had he in his wildest dreams, he'd thought that she liked him. Friends, Yes they were but this? He hadn't known what to do. Should he tell her that his heart was already taken? But she was watching him with hopeful eyes. And everyone's gaze was fixed on them. If he said no, it would be humiliating for Srinidhi. He'd been lost in his thoughts when someone had pushed him towards Srinidhi and his hands had touched the roses and he didn't know if he had actually said yes or it was just an assumption. Srinidhi had stood up and hugged him. And others had cheered them. In her arms, , his eyes, as their habit was had sought Geet. She hadn't looked at him.
Soon exams had come. Every other thought had taken a backseat. The days had passed in a blur. And then had come, the much awaited vacations. He'd got no time to clear the air. Srinidhi and he were the official couple for others. And Geet, it was as if she'd found an invisible cloak for herself. Notwithstanding the few times in the examination hall, he hardly saw her. He never got a chance to explain. But then what was there to explain. He didn't know how she felt for him. Or maybe he did know and that's why the restlessness.
The vacations had done nothing to soothe his restless heart. He'd found solace in a certain song about getting speechless in the presence of their lovers.
When the college had started again, she had gone missing for days. When three weeks had passed he'd started getting agitated. What could have happened to her? Did the sky caved in on her or did the earth gobble her up? When he thought that he would go mad with the questions, he'd approached her friend.
"Why isn't Geet coming to college?"
"Her father expired."
"I am sorry. Is...is she fine? When is she coming back?"
"She isn't coming back. She'll be continuing her studies through correspondence course."
And his heart had felt heavy. She wasn't coming back. She was gone.
No silent studies under staircase, no more stealing glances, no more talks of globetrotting and no more discussions on mystery books, no waiting for rains and praying for umbrellas to get stuck. That day he'd lost a part of him. A part that he'd never recovered.
Later on, the pain that comes with heartbreak had faded but...
He had confessed to Srinidhi that he didn't love her.
"It doesn't matter; you'll someday "she'd said, "For now my love is enough for both of us.
She had been naive to say so and he'd been a fool to believe her.
~~**~~**~~**~~
"Wait...wait," she says and he stops in his tracks. He looks around and sees the mountains covered in blankets of lush green. "Just one more photo," she says sheepishly and starts clicking pictures. He smiles to himself.
Today morning he had found her leaning against his SUV waiting for him. He'd taken his time to walk to her, slowly covering the distance between them. T-shirt, quarter length jeans and those sneakers, her hair, she had let them loose. They were still curly and short, barely reaching her shoulders. Nothing much had changed except for that camera that hung around her neck and those aviators and...extra piercing on her ear lobes, he noticed as she pushed a few wild strands behind her ears.
"Do you know we call Panchmarhi..." she is about to complete her sentence but he beats her at it.
"Satpura Ki Rani...," he finishes and a second later he adds, "It's also known as Walker's Paradise.
"Ahaan...Not bad so you've done your homework," she praises him.
"Do you know why Panchmarhi is different from other hill stations?" she asks while checking out the clicked photos.
"No," he answers as he resumes climbing the mountains. They had been allowed to take their car through the narrow bending roads ,flanked by the Sal trees, up to Mahadeo Temple which is nine kilometers from the main town Panchmarhi and is the main attraction of this place during Shivratri. From there, it's all about trekking.
It's the first time he's climbing mountains. It is a thrilling experience and with her on his side it makes the experience a different one. They have covered a kilometer of the trek which consisted of climbing a few small hills, the click click of her camera, her sharing the history of the place and drinking lemon water. They have brought their own water but she'd insisted on drinking nimboo paani that the tribal shops were selling.
"I know you must have drunk lemon water before but this is different because they use lemons that grow in wild and it's really tasty different from our daily nimboo paani." And a sip of it and he'd known she was right.
"Panchmarhi is special because of its untainted beauty. It being a military cantonment, it has a strong presence of army base and thus unlike other hill stations it hasn't been commercialized yet. It's secluded and is like a verdant jewel hidden in between these mountains," she continues.
A verdant jewel, definitely it is he thinks to himself as his eyes drink in the beauty of this quaint hill station located in Madhya Pradesh.
When Geet had said that Chauragarh Temple was located at an altitude of 1330 m and they would have to cover 3.6 km line trek he hadn't given it much of a thought but as they keep trudging higher and higher it starts getting difficult. After crossing a cave with Lord Shiva's idol, the track starts winding upwards and they see the stunning green scenery unfold in front of them. His daily workouts prove to be beneficial because climbing the last ladder like hills is really tough, the reason why not many people choose to trek. And after endlessly climbing, they finally cover the last few steps and enter the courtyard of temple which is stacked with weapon of Lord Shiva- the trishuls.
It's like achieving a feat. He feels the same satisfaction on reaching the temple crowning the hills that he feels after cracking a tough deal. He rings the bells that hang in the courtyard. Geet does the same. He mentally admires her zeal and energy. Not once she complained about the height or difficulty of the trek. Well, now he knows the reason behind those shapely legs.
Next they drive to Dhoopgarh, the highest point of the hill station. It's evening time and the sun makes an enchanting view as it is setting down in the western sky. While returning to its home, it paints the blue sky in spectacular hues of orange, violet and pink. They sit there for a long time. After a few minutes of silence, she turns to him and says in a low voice,"I heard about you and Srinidhi.
Not knowing what to say he just nods his head.
"My friend is a cousin of Ritvik, she speaks further, "I came to know through her."
Ritvik, husband of Srinidhi. She'd married Ritvik ,a year after their divorce.
"Sometimes things aren't meant to be and if you force it to happen it is bound to have an unhappy end," he explains.
It is a very simple way to sum up the last few years of his life. He likes to keep the details to himself. When Srinidhi had fallen in love with him she was expecting a dark, brooding of some novel while he'd turned out to be a simple man. They were like opposite poles and the romanticized theory that opposites attract didn't hold true in his case. In their two years of marriage they had tried a lot. Adjustments, compromises, and sacrifices, everything had been invested. He'd loved her but never more than a friend. Resentments had found their way into their hearts. When the reasons of splitting apart had outnumbered the reasons of living together, they had decided to separate. He was glad that she'd found her soulmate in Ritvik.
"You almost disappeared from the college without any notice," he asks trying to change the topic.
"After Dad's sudden death, my mother was broken. Bhabhi, she was pregnant and Bhai didn't know what to do. There was lot to take care of."
"How is your family now?"
"They are fine. My brother looks after the family business and my sister in law and my mother helps him with it. And I have the world's cutest niece."
A happy family.
"When you used to talk about globetrotting I thought you were joking."
She laughs.
"Most of them thought I was joking when I said I left my job. But I had to answer my heart's calling. My grandmother lives in Kasauli and every time I would visit her I would look at the huge mountains and wonder what treasures lay behind them. It was like the mountains, those seas they were calling me. As I started growing up, I would read about places and would note down their names. My feet were itching to reach new places, learn new experiences, culture. And now that I travel I feel like I'm living my dream." He looks at her face that is glowing in the setting sun. There is a sense of satisfaction in her voice. He realizes this is her passion.
"So are you a lone traveler?
"Yes. Sometimes my friends accompany me but usually I travel alone."
"I must say you're quite brave."
"Thank you but then I've always been a daring person," she boasts.
The next day they visit Ramya kund- a beautiful pond, that's what the name means. They walk through the forests, the thickets of trees. The cool breeze rising from the shrubs ruffles her hair and then move to the other trees. He finds his eyes arrested on her face. She raises an eyebrow.
"You look beautiful."
"Oh. Umm... Thanks."
He looks away but not before seeing the red creeping her neck and tainting her cheeks. He can hear the chirping of birds and can smell the green grass. They meet the obstreperous brooks on the way. And when they finally reach the kund, he gasps. The sight before him is mesmerizing, beautiful, enchanting and so much more. They spend hours sitting by the pond in silence, each lost in the scenic beauty. She extracts two apples from her bag and offers him one. He accepts. He is about to bite into his apple when his gaze meets a pair of eyes peering through the branches of jamun tree. He suddenly gets worried. He hopes that it isn't some unfriendly, blood hungry animal.
"Geet what's that?"
She looks up and then answers, "That must be a langur. Don't worry. It isn't going to harm us."
"You're stating it as if it's your friend."
"Langurs are sweet just like you are."
"I am not sweet."
"You are, she scoots closer to him to pull his cheeks when he moves away, "Don't you dare Geet."
She laughs. "Eat your apple."
"Okay," he says but he feels strange to eat something while someone is staring down at him. He keeps the apple away from him. In a jiffy, the langur climbs down and then steals away his apple. Geet starts laughing. Her laugh is the same as it used to be. Wild, free , where she throws her head back and her body shakes in the process. He stares at her with a smile on his lips before moving his gaze away to admire the beauty of the place.
He has never come across such an unobtrusive beauty. It's mystical, this place. The nature has such an amazing way to express itself through the mountains embracing the green whereas the brown peeps in between and down the heights cascades the blue conversing with stones and hills, singing its own song.
On the way back to the cottage house he asks her,"So you haven't married yet?" His voice is low and hesitant.
"No."
"Why?"
"I haven't found a suitable man yet."
"You've been traveling places and haven't found a single suitable man? I can't believe this."
"I'm not traveling places in search of a suitable man now am I? But that doesn't mean that I didn't come across some very handsome and interesting men. "
"Of course you must have. The world is full of handsome and interesting men," he mutters, his gaze fixed on the sight ahead of him.
Not paying attention to him, she adds "And then I'm also waiting to fall in love."
"Not yet fallen in love?"
She keeps silent for a long time. And he doesn't press her for an answer.
The third and the last day they visit Pandav Caves, the caves that's believed to provide shelter to the five Pandavas. The name Panchmarhi is derived from these caves.
Next they hit the magnificent and tranquilizing waterfalls. The first waterfall being the Jamuna Prapat- the bee fall. It cascades down from a height of fifty meters and divulges into three different spectacular colors- red, green and brown.
"This is so mesmerizing...," she says as she takes pictures of it. Turning her camera to him she clicks his picture and then asks a tourist to take their pictures. Him and her and the gasconading waters in the background. His heart thumps loudly in his chest, louder than the buzzing of the Bee falls as she slides her arm around his waist and puts his hand around her shoulder.
They reach Rajat Pratap, which when seen from above, true to its name, it looks like a river of silver (rajat) cascading down the mountain from a great height.
"It is such a blissful experience. I understand now why you love this so much," he tells her.
Together they walk to Jalwataran located three kilometers from Belle view where three distinct waterfall tumbles down.
The next and the last spot on their list are churches.
"This Catholic church was built by British in 1892. And Maan your deft architect eyes must have recognized the amazing conflation of French and Irish architecture used here."
"Yes that's the first thing I noticed. Did you also study architecture?"
"No but after traveling so much and reading a few books I do have an idea now."
"Impressive."
"Thank you," She says airily.
They are strolling around the cemetery that's attached to the church when she whispers into his ears, "Although this is a nice place but don't you think the atmosphere is little eerie. Even the tombstones date back to 1859. We better get going."
"Yes ,we should get going before some ghost decides to drop by to say Hello," he says in a serious tone.
" Yeah right...,"" She walks to the exit and stops and turns to him, " Wait a sec... are you by any chance making fun of me!?
"Of course not. Unlike some people I'm not so daring."
She slaps him on his shoulder and walks away. He smiles at her childlike behavior and follows her.
They drive to the Christ church. These churches, it's a must visit for any architecture aficionado, he thinks.
As she is taking the pictures he looks at her. She has a train reservation in the evening. They will be a parting soon. When he'd been driving to Panchmarhi, it had been just an escape from his monotonous life. But finding her here was a fortunate happenstance. She has turned this escape into a memorable journey, a journey whose end he didn't want to reach. But the end has come. And again his heart feels heavy. He doesn't want to return to his empty house where's nobody waiting for him. Life in this innocent and pristine hill must an Elysian sort of life.
He still feels for her. In fact he'd never stopped feeling for her. But what about her? Should he let her go once again? This could be a second chance that nature has offered him.
~~**~~**~~
"This is for you, a kind of souvenir so that you remember me, she says as she hands him a small gift. If only he could tell her that he does not need any gifts to remember her.
He accepts it and then says, "Can I get your number as a souvenir? It'll be more helpful if you want me to remember you.
"Yes...yes how silly of me to not exchange numbers."
"When is your next trip?" he asks her
"Haven't planned yet."
"Do you mind if I want to join you?" he asks afraid that she might decline.
" Of course not but your work?"
"It's my company. I'll manage," he answers immediately.
The train blows out a whistle.
"Okay then bye."
"Bye until the next time," he tells her.
She is about to turn and walk away when she calls out his name, "Maan"
Her eyes staring intently at him she says, "We travel not to escape our life but so that life does not escape us."
She extends her hand for a handshake.
Her fingers are small and soft against his big callused rough hands.
"Until the next time." And then she walks away.
~~**~~**~~
She looks outside the window of train compartment. A melodious rendition is on repeat on her media player. The silken voice plays in her ears,"Aa kar chale na jana, Aise nahi satana...dena na bekarari dil ka karaar ban ke... aankhon mein bas na jana intezaar ban ke..."
As he drives to Delhi, a bird of Hope has found its nest inside his chest and perches there refusing to fly away.
An old familiar song is playing on the radio.
"Bhool kar tumko na jee payenge...jab bulaogi chale aayenge...hum koi waqt nahi jaana"
This time he isn't letting her go.
~~**~~**~~**~~
A few months later they find themselves sitting on the banks of the river after a boat ride on the Ganges. This is their last day in Varanasi.
"Have you ever thought about the color blue?" She questions.
"What about it?"
"We never pay attention to these small details. Have you noticed that everything dynamic is blue-the mighty sky, the vast oceans,Saawre Shyam, Neelkantha Shiva..."
He nods.
"Geet...Do you want to see something?"
"What? She asks, her eyes watching him intently. He turns and starts pulling up the hem of his shirt.
"Umm...Maan as much as I would love to have a look at those abs but don't you think this is improper...Ah...you got a tattoo..."
"A Phoenix...this is so beautiful," she says as her hesitant finger comes to rest on his back.
She stays silent for a while as if going down the memory lane. "Did you by any chance get this idea from Harry Potter?"
"You read that book?"
"Well a good book never escapes my eye," she whispers.
"High Five," he whispers back.
~~**~~**~~**~~
"What does Sosgado or susegad means?" He knows the answer and yet he asks her. He likes to listen her talking.
"It is a Portuguese colonial-era term. Laid-backness can pass as a rough translation of the word."
She is lying on the silver sands of a Goa beach enjoying the languid ambience of the place. He is lying next to her, his head propped up on his arm. She watches the inky sky. While the moon is her cynosure, she is his.
He takes her soft hand and entwines them into his own. Her honey brown irises meet his melting brown .
"Geet," he speaks in an unusual husky tone.
"Hmm..."
"Do you want to know a secret ?"
Her eyes locked to his, she simply nods her head.
He brings his face close to her and feels her breathing go shallow, with his lips close to her ears he whispers,
" I love you as certain dark things are to be loved..." She gasps and her hold on his hand tightens,
"... In secret, in between the shadow and the soul
I love you without knowing how, Or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way than this; where I does not exist, nor you,
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."
As he meets her lachrymose eyes, she speaks, "I...I thought you were never going to tell me," and then very slowly she closes the distance between their lips.
~~**~~**~~**~~
Brijesh watches his sister Geet from the window of his room as she runs behind his daughter before picking her up in her arms and twirling around. There is a bounce in her curls, twinkle in her eyes, and spring in her steps. She looks like a fresh spring flower dancing with joy as the wind brings it a missive from her lover. A serene smile spreads on his face as he turns away from the window.
Geet is sitting under the lime tree as her eyes move to the ring that that sparkles in the light of the sun. Her bosom swells in pride and she picks up a pen and paper. After a long time she is writing something.
"Years ago, I'd almost allowed my heart to fall.
Had almost allowed you to become my all
An almost heartache that I managed to survive
Before my fingers could feel the texture of yours,
I had to let go of them
But the longings I did not let go,
In my heart they did thrive.
Then came the learning curves- everything is transient,
Every moment fleeting by,
I was finally becoming wise,
I was ready to live with zemblanity
No more searching in the woods for serenity
Then you come again, again you smile at me
Again my heart flutters,
This thing between us is semipternal
The wind whispers and the river murmurs,
"Here, they say, "He is your serendipity.""
Edited by Veil - 9 years ago
Book Talk
Anupamaa
