phhandooh at: a phhandooh-of-my-own, pg.89 - Page 70

prem was going to be late. he hated being late. it did not matter that it was not his fault. or that he had had absolutely no control over the reason for being late. the train was going to get there three hours after it was supposed to. it looked like he would have to jump off and find another way to reach town, else the entire point of his visit from canada would be lost. the hot metal cage that was the train carriage had been motionless on the tracks for the better part of an hour. the flapping noise of newspapers being used as fans only seemed to be evenly spreading the heavy stench of patiently sweating bodies through the carriage.

prem took one last look around at the sleeping faces and decided he had had enough.

heer watched the straggler pigeon peck at the last of the wheat, standing alone in the shade of the terrace stoop, safe from the sun, waiting for her friends who had promised to meet her. meher was at college, writing exams. they would only get over next week. unlike heer, she still had three years of sweating over exams, attending boring classes, waking up to a clock, working to keep up to a destination.

heer was done with all that. her exams had gotten over a month ago. she knew she had done fairly well -- nothing spectacular, no failure. heer was never been a star on the academic skyline, not like Meher could be when she wanted to. but then, it was hard to think of heer in the limelight anywhere. she always seemed to be untouched by the world. as if she had not yet found anything that she felt the need to be excited about. meher used to tease her, saying that her heer didi had been born knowing so exactly what her life was to be like that there was no point in her getting anxious or excited about anything. all the way down to who she was to be married to when she grew old enough. the boy who was her father's best friend's son. even her life after she left her father's home had been decided, no worries faced her.

then why did heer not feel at peace just then? there was a restlessness in her heart, a stirring in the center of her being. it was not anything she could explain. the last couple of nights had been hot, and ordinarily she would not have been bothered by the heat. it was meher who would complain vociferously, and finally get her big sister to fan her till she fell asleep. heer had come out to the terrace, lying down to get solace from her beloved moon.

but last night, even the moon had felt different, not the familiar friend that it used to be. it had seemed unusually bright, alive, calling to her with whispered promises of ... what? she could not hear, did not understand. but last night, the moon had not let her sleep.

in the bright sunshine, the disquiet of the night continued. heer did not feel soothed even by one of her most favourite hobbies: feeding the pigeons their morning meal. the air shimmered with the bright heat of the sun. the pigeons were fractious, jittery, almost as if they could not afford to take out time to peck at the grain that she had put out for them. there was a wind that was rustling through the stalks of wheat in the fields in the distance, that made the leaves in the trees dance. the world seemed poised to burst into song, and they seemed to be pulling her into their tune.

and heer, quiet, calm heer, who never did anything unexpected or unusual, suddenly felt the urge to run to meet them head-on.

prem's jaw was set firmly as he pushed up through the undergrowth of the woods, hitching his overnight bag firmly to his side. he felt the sweat drip down his back and knew he would have to take time out to change before he could walk into the meeting. when he had jumped off the train, his fellow passengers had helpfully pointed him in the direction of a short cut to the nearby road. they had said that the woods would also be a good way to keep out of the fierce sunshine beating down on the world just then. they had failed to tell him that there was an uphill climb before the road.

in typical prem fashion, there was no thought in his mind to blame anyone, or to give up and turn back from what he had started. to give up was not what prem did. especially not on something that his father wanted. and this new hotel project was on the top of that list. anything important for his father always became a mission for prem. he somehow knew that the hotel in ambala was important for his father. that it was linked to his past.

prem had been very young when they had left the country for canada. he had vague memories of wheat fields and a small house with cows. he could not remember his mother at all. she had died when he was less than a year old. more strong were the memories of being hungry, of the smell of rain, of playing in the sun, of running after his elder sister. but the most persistent one, that was not strong or clear, but always stayed with him was the memory of a girl's eyes and the feel of small fingers in his hand.

that memory would come to him at the oddest times. it came to him now, so clear that the wood he gripped in his hand suddenly felt as warm and soft as hers. he stumbled, biting off a gasp as he felt his foot catch and twist, bringing him down accompanied with an ominous sound of tearing cloth.

heer meandered in the woods. the walk in the fields had been long and hot. she was grateful for the coolness of the trees that towered around her, tail, slim but resilient. they bent to the wind, supple and accomodating, never breaking, no matter how rough the weather. her father used to say that meher was like a pigeon, distracted, always on the look to fly high. but that heer was like these trees, grounded. and usually, it was here that she felt most complete. here, and at the shiv mandir at the other edge of the town. but today, not even being among these old friends helped. today, she wanted to be the bird. today, she wanted to fly.

the paths that snaked in and out and around the trees were as familiar to her as the roads that led through the fields to her home. she ran, her feet almost gliding over those well-worn mud ways, her arms outstretched, the thin red cloth of her dupatta streaming over them, like bright coloured wings trailing behind her lithe form.

she ran as if it was the only thing in the world to do. she ran, and it felt like the her heart was finally in tune with what her soul desired, the hard beat in tune with the tinkling of the little bells of the anklet on her feet. she ran as if fulfilling the purpose for that which she had been born. she ran as if to an end that had been decided a long time ago. and as she ran, she could feel that end come near, rushing to meet her. her breath coming hard, smooth and fast, her feet started slowing down, and came to rest ... in front of his.

the tumble had been lucky for prem. he had been thrown right into a little clearing in the wood. when he stood up, he had found himself at the edge of the way that led to a well-trodden path amongst the trees. he had walked ahead, to make sure that he was finally on the path to the road out of the woods, and also because he knew that keeping his limbs moving would lessen the bruising and the pain he would suffer later in his knees and shin. but it had been troublesome walking on his shoe with the broken sole, the heal cracked and exposing his foot. as soon as he saw the tall shrubs, he had taken the opportunity to change into the clothes that he had packed for the ceremony at the hotel.

he had found it surprisingly easy to walk along the softly packed mud road in the jootis and salwar-kurta that his mother had packed for him. it felt ... right to be striding along those roads and those woods dressed like that, much more than the suit. which was strange because he rarely wore the outfit in his every day life, despite how proud it would make his father to see him that way. today, it felt right. the sun was sparkling through the shade of the trees, sharing space with the wind that rustled the leaves high up in the slender conifers. the ground felt welcoming under his feet, and his senses were full of the life around him.

prem smiled wryly to himself and thanked the fates that his kid brother was not there to see him then. preet was typically bruising about how readily prem fell in to his father's every whim. his father's wish to see prem married to his dearest friend's daughter was a sore point with his brothers. but prem had never even questioned his father's right to decide who he should spend the rest of his life with.

for some reason, this moment felt like proof that he had done the right thing accepting his father's wishes. prem had the strangest feeling that everything that he had chosen to do, that had been planned for him, and by him, was rushing towards a conclusion at that very moment. and he wanted to open his arms and embrace the moment with all his might. his eyes shut with the force of the feeling. he had to stop to take a deep breath, so dizzy did the moment make him feel.

which was why he stood still with his head hung low, and his eyes closed, when she stopped in front of him.

it was strange how neither of them were startled at the meeting. the world seemed to have gone still. the winds had gone to play elsewhere. the trees hung their leaves quiet and waiting. only the sun's rays sparkled and shone. it was a lonely place. not one where you would expect to see anyone. and if you did meet anyone, you would be wary.

not prem. not heer.

her eyes met his, squinting in the sun making a halo around his head, making the pale gold of his sherwani glow. she looked at his face, free and bold for a moment, before she realised that her dupatta fell straight off a shoulder. swiftly, she pulled it over her head, her eyes dropping in front of his, an almost instinctive gesture that she had seen her mother do a million times in front of strangers, cheeks staining with red at the thought of the reprimand from her conservative father.

he only really saw her eyes, long, dark, framed by thick lashes. there was a faint memory of the smooth creamy slope of a forehead, cradled by fronds of dark, soft hair. round cheeks that were rosy. but he remembered her eyes. clear. guileless. deep. so deep that in that one moment he had drowned in them. such calm waiting eyes. waiting for him. eyes that he could see even after she had covered her hair in the red dupatta that matched her outfit.

there was a sound far away in the distance, the bright chatter of women.

he watched her head jerk around. and it was still a graceful movement, like a doe startled out of a reverie. he saw the flash of eyes back to his again, bright, apologetic as she turned away from him. he stood, as if rooted in the same spot. he felt like she was taking away something with her. something that was critical for him to continue breathing. something that was a part of him was going with the girl in the bright red dress moving away from him. yet he did not feel troubled or worried. he was going to meet her again. he was sure of it.

heer ran away, as swiftly as she had run to him. back to who she had been. back to where she belonged. but now? her heart was at peace again. the disquiet was gone. she had met him. her heart, mind and soul was whole again. for like prem, waiting and watching her move away from him, she knew she was going to meet him again. she was sure of it.