ff: ''a many splendoured thing", update pg. 102

Edited by estee - 14 years ago

Edited by estee - 14 years ago

for the second time that day, heer had run as if a demon was at her heels.  by the time that she had come back to the brownstone with the attached garden with her sketchpad and pencils, the light had faded. she had been tempted to stamp her foot in childish temper -- but at whom? the sun had set as it always did, one of those forces that refused to obey her wishes. she had returned back home and fallen into an exhausted slumber. for the first time in the last eighteen months, she slept straight through the night, not waking once. the next day, she was out of the door at the crack of dawn back to the brownstone. to stand and stare at that unfinished structure in the middle of the garden.

at first, like with everything she painted, all heer did was ''watch'' it. she learnt how it changed moods in the changing lights. sometimes it was quiet. sometimes, it pulsed with energy. but it was always calm as if it knew it had a purpose, a reason to exist. and from that knowledge, it appeared to have a permanence -- of having been there forever, of continuing to be there forever. even in it's unfinished form, the structure appeared to be one that was dug deep in to the ground -- so deep that nothing could uproot it. perhaps that was what compelled her about the structure -- that sense of calm permanence. something that she had lost while ago.

by the end of a week, she was ready to put it down on canvas.

heer became one more person standing in the middle of the street with an easel and paints. the regulars learnt how to give a wide berth to the tall girl in dark and her easel -- for she moved it around constantly to catch the light on the structure. she sketched furiously with her charcoal pens, tearing pages that irritated her, carefully storing those that she thought caught what she wanted. for the first few weeks, she sketched like a maniac -- as if terrified that it would vanish if she wasn't careful, and leave her empty and alone like she had been before she found it. she would crawl back home every night.

she knocked on her neighbour's door  -- she had forgotten her keys again. after the first time she was locked out, she had carefully got a copy of the key made and left it with her neighbour. a lady who was gracious and kind and reminded her deeply of her own mother, in the way she gave her a gently exasperated look before ushering her into the foyer as she went to get the key.

''left the house without them again?'' gayatri called over the rustling of the papers in the drawer she kept the keys in. she came out dangling the keys in her hand. heer smiled with gratitude as she took them, her stomach rumbling loudly at the delicious smells floating in the warm flat.

gayatri smiled. ''why don't you join me for dinner, heer? don't say no.'' she said as heer politely declined. ''i have made enough for an army, since my children were to join me. but apparently, there has been some last minute crisis and they have to work late again today. it will all just go to waste. besides, i do love company -- please?'' she ended with a winning smile. and heer suddenly felt she could not bear to face another day of the micro-waved roti and spinach that was waiting in her studio. gayatri must have read the acquiesance in her eyes and decided to quickly strike while the iron was hot. ''why don't you go get that charcoal washed off, and i'll give the kali-dal one last stir? i hope you don't mind a simple meal? it's just naan, the dal and cauliflower-pea sabzi.'' and she smiled gently as she watched heer swallow and practically run out as she promised to be back in a minute.

that was the start of another big change in heer's life -- building links with other people. she had cut herself off from all her friends and family since the tragedy.  now, with gayatri, she started unfurling like a starved flower and blooming in the kindness that the elder lady offered. gayatri looked at heer's eyes with shadows in their depths, with shadows around their lids, and understood from the depth of sensitivity she could sense in heer that she was not ready to talk about what had happened yet. so, she just followed the same instincts that she followed with her own children. she asked no questions, but quietly  fed heer with food and warmth and whatever love she would accept.

in her turn, heer sympathised with the sense of loneliness that this sunny woman held at bay underneath her cheer. she tried hard to return the kindness -- every evening, she tried her best to remember to pack up early enough at the brownstone, so she could return to the studio to help gayatri cook dinner. or restrain her impatience to be off at the crack of dawn and instead walk with her to the subway that gayatri took when she visited with her children.

''my husband died a year ago,'' gayatri explained quietly one evening before such a visit, as they both sat at her kitchen table, sampling the kheer she had made to take with her the next day. ''i  just couldn't bear to stay in the same house that we had for the last forty years. i couldn't face the same memories without him every day. at least, not just yet.'' she finished.

''do they ever fade?'' heer had asked, her eyes shadowed as she stared into her bowl, making random patterns in the kheer with her spoon. gayatri's heart ached for the wounded heart in front of her.

''no, the memories don't fade. not ever. but..'', she smiled gently into the horror-stricken eyes that flashed up at her, struggling not to reach out and cradle that young face in her hand. ''..the pain does. funny thing is,'' she mused, ''at first you think that they have to be together -- that the only way to remember is with pain. it took me a while to realise that without the pain, the memories actually start standing out a lot more clearly. that they are truly an infinite source of joy and happiness. that they can become the reason for me to smile again.''

later at night, back in her apartment, heer stood in front of the easel with the large canvas that was no longer white and blank. she stared with unseeing eyes, for once not in the grip of this new force that had taken over her mind. she stood in the past and remembered with pain. she wondered if, like gayatri, she would ever be able to remember without pain. because her memories were all that she had left of her family and she didn't want to lose them again.


Edited by estee - 14 years ago

originally posted at the phhandooh-at #2, on 25 oct 2009, here:
http://www.india-forums.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=1144506&TPN=50


heer cut a strangely graceful figure as she hurried through the crowds toward the garden. the portfolio bag stuck far out at a right angle, which would have meant a balancing act for most people as they strode at her pace. but she made it look easy, as if it was part of her. but then, people with a purpose rarely looked awkward as they moved. heer had been born with a purpose, and that purpose was to capture the magic she could see and feel in the world around her. the tools of her craft were the material in that portfolio bag, and they were an extension of who she was.

part of her confidence came from how people responded to what she did, ''her work''. but most of it had been tethered those who had nurtured her and her purpose. ever since she had started painting what she observed of the world, her long almond shaped eyes absorbing things avidly, her father had encouraged her to focus all her passion into her art. his support, along with the adoration of her mother and baby sister, had been the cloud that she lived on, floating aloft, blind to anything that was dark or hurtful. her cocoon of safety, firm and constant. until one day a strange twist of fate had taken that love away, leaving her blind and lost in a dark limbo.

until the day that she found purpose again in that unfinished structure in a garden by a brownstone. the garden with the ''home-of-light'' as she called it inside her mind. she had never thought to feel again, wonder again, enough to want paint again. but she was learning the biggest truth about life -- that life struggles to continue no matter what. despite the heart nearly bleeding with hurt, it continued to beat. despite her not wanting to, she continued to breath. and no matter how much she fought it, there was something around the corner to bring purpose to live again.

heer lengthened her stride. as always, she was on fire till she completed a project. she turned around the last corner -- just a few more steps and... her feet came to a abrupt halt, her breath strangling itself in her throat. the garden was still there, next to the brownstone. the structure was beginning to glow in the rays of the rising sun, the columns turning pink from the tops, the rhododendrons blushing even deeper on their branches above. but instead of seeing it through the bars of the gate, she could see it clear through, for today, the gate stood open.

she stood still for a moment, waiting for the world to correct itself and for the gate to be shut. she blinked a few times, and looked again -- the gate was still open. now her breath started coming fast and hard. oh, to go close to that magical structure, to actually touch the surface, to find out whether there was a heat that came with the glow. she moved forward through the morning crowds, and in silently through the gate, dropping her portfolio at the foot of the bushes just inside.

it was like entering a new world. her sneakers sank in the luxurious lawn, her fingers felt the cooler air, already the perfume of the magnolia wafted around her, assaulting her senses. but her eyes were fixed on the structure. she supressed the urge to run to touch it.

up close, she saw the skeletal super-structure of beams stand out, stark against the white stone of the unfinished wall and columns, the beginnings of the steeple/dome,  the overhead beams standing out like spears, without the supporting columns at the end. all around one end was the tumble of stone and more beams, stretching upto at the foot of an old oak tree. a corner and the edge of the back was nearly done. it tempted her, that dark corner. she suddenly needed to know whether the glow remained even when the space was enclosed by the stone.

heer had to duck low to walk into the main section. but once in, she found that she could stand between the cross-beams. she made a beeline for the corner, her left hand raised, trailing the cross-beams, along the edge of the wall. the stone insulated her from the sounds of the street. the light was just beginning to stream through the clouds and the trees lining the fence. the stone was beginning to glow from the inside, the arch of the incomplete roof slowly lighting up, white against the brown of the beams. she rested her face in the corner. the stone was cold and quiet against her forehead -- it was so peaceful. she felt she could stay there forever.

it took a while for the voices that drifted into her corner to penetrate. voices -- people in the garden! men from the sounds of it. whatever heer wanted to find from the home-of-light could wait. she had never been one for the company of the strangers, especially when she was working. and this was especially awkward -- she did not even have permission to be there. she moved swiftly, her head bent.

which was probably why she ran head-first into a warm sweat-slicked bare chest. startled off balance by the knock, her head jarred by the knock, her feet stumbling among the planks of wood he dropped, she threw out her hands to steady herself and found herself clutching onto bare arms and shoulders. startled, she lifted her head, hair slipping out of the neat clips at the side, and looked into deep dark eyes looking fiercely down at her. eyes, deepset between a beaked nose, shaded by furrowed brows.

''what the...?'' his arms gripped her. ''are you alright? yes? '' then as those fierce eyes traced out her features,  the brows furrowed even more. ''who are you?  preet didn't mention anyone was in yet.'' he threw a look over his shoulder. ''preet?  preet!'' his voice resonated through her. and...

she panicked. she yanked out of his arms, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, pushing him hard so that he stumbled backward.  she ran. ''hey!'' his voice was startled. she threw a look over her shoulder, to see that he was beginning to dash after her, and sped up through the gate.

she didn't stop running until she had reached the metro and had gone through the gates. but it was only when she reached home, that she realised that she had left her portfolio behind. that night, she was quiet and distracted through all of gayatri's chatter through dinner. heer knew she had to go back; she just needed a strategy.  but lying in her bed that night, it was not the strategy that she dreamt of, but of dark, deep-set eyes set over high cheekbones, the steel under the satin-covered arms and the unfamiliar tingle that flooded her when she remembered what it felt like to glide her palms over those arms.


Edited by estee - 14 years ago

originally posted at bhav's b'day post for radz on 26 oct 2009 after the death of mr. jesus christ. 😆 here:
http://www.india-forums.com/forum_posts.asp?TID=1277265&TPN=3



by the time heer stepped out of her apartment, she was confident about winning the battle of ''retrieving the portfolio.'' she had on her black armani trouser suit with her three inch platform heels. that usually gave her a height advantage with a lot of the population. she figured that she needed all the advantage she could get to counter the fact that she had been tresspassing.

she was early at the garden. as expected, the garden gate was locked -- the attached brownstone was going to have to be breached to get her portfolio bag back.

there was no nameplate at the front of the brownstone. she took a deep breath and rang the bell, hearing it sound deep within. she suddenly had a memory of the fierce dark eyes and swallowed, fighting the urge to wipe her palms on the sides of her jacket. she told herself that he didn't look like the sort that could afford to live there, in any case. he was probably just hired labour to move material in the garden. there had been a new sawhorse in the garden -- she had seen the edge poking out from the unfished edge of the home-of-the-light. if he was around today, he would probably just be in the garden. she had convinced herself that footsteps coming down the stairs could not belong to the fierce-eyed stranger. so she really could not explain why she felt curiously deflated when the door was opened by a portly man with a deadpan face.

deadpan-face showed no reaction as he listened politely and invited her to step into the foyer. it was with a sense of relief that she saw him gesture to the receptionist. who also listened politely, and asked her to take a seat while he murmured into the phone.

she looked around while she waited. the brownstone appeared to have a more modern look to the interior than the exterior. down the corridor, she could see partitions of glass and steel. light, a gentle buzz of conversation and the occassional laughter filled the air. the walls of the foyer with the framed pictures of buildings and bridges -- the ''l.j & sons, pvt. ltd.'' sign behind the receptionist's desk -- all indicated that the brownstone most likely housed an architectural firm. she would have liked to take a closer look at the frames. but that would not have been decorus. she decided that decorum would serve her purpose better. in any case, she didn't have the time -- she had to follow deadpan-face to get her bag.

when preet got up to receive the owner of the intriguing portfolio bag, his eyes sparkling with curiosity, he was taken aback at her formal appearance. his brother had described something far more bohemian. but one look at her face was enough to convince him that she was the same. her eyes did look like one could lose oneself in their depths. and as he mentally scrutinised her face, it did look like she did have the slightest indentation in the middle of her chin. his eyes narrowed as he realised that his usually taciturn brother had waxed true as much as he had waxed poetic about the intruder in the cathedral yesterday. and all after a momentary look.

preet's look at the girl was speculative. there was obviously more to her than met the eye. they had gone through the portfolio bag to find out who their intruder had been. the material was expensive -- she was obviously not a bag lady looking for a squatting spot. but there was no clue as to who the owner was. either someone who did not care about the bag. or someone who was sure they would never part with it, long enough to lose it.

from the quality of the sketches, preet knew it was the latter. while most were preliminary, there was something extra-ordinary about how the strokes captured a sense of the light. even his usually art-appreciation-impaired brother had caught that genius, his eyes contemplative as his fingers had traced along the strong strokes on the paper. and her sketches were not just an ordinary capture -- they had taken what was, and had begun to fill it out with imagination and logic both.

there were only two other people who had seen a similar vision when it came to the cathedral: his father and himself. tand hat had come after years of arguing and discussing and criticising and building with each other. how did this pale, composed wraith of a girl that he had never seen before, fill in the spaces so well? suddenly, preet was filled with a sense of anticipation that he hadn't felt for a while.

preet remembered the name shakti had given him over the phone for the claimant of the portfolio bag that had set them all agog -- heer. he smiled as he came around the desk, his hand held out to take hers in a firm grip, wondering at the curious look of disappointment that was flashing out of her eyes as she looked up at him.

he decided to cut to the chase. ''preet juneja. and you are the tresspasser with the intriguing portfolio bag in our garden yesterday.'' he noticed with interest that the forthright accusation did not faze her. she accepted it with a slight inclination of her head, all grace and no artifice. just like the sketches she had made. he leaned back against the edge of the desk, looking down at her sitting lady-like at the edge of her chair. ''so i guess you would not begrudge our tresspass -- we took a look at the sketches in your portfolio.'' he lifted an eyebrow when her eyes flashed at him. he watched as she lowered her eyelashes demurely, and continued. ''nice work. i have never seen someone outside of my family ever capture the cathedral like that.''

''the cathedral?'' preet stiffened at the sound of her voice -- low, soft. it reminded him of someone, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember who.

''yes, that's what my father called it.'' he was fascinated by the glow in her eyes at the mention of the cathedral. and driven by an impulse he didn't bother analysing, he said, ''would you like to see it up close?''

what a topsy-turvy day it turned out to be. she had started it with so much trepidation, and it ended up being one of the most memorable in the longest time. preet had described how his father always built a scale model of each of his designs in the garden once he was finished with its blue-print. and how the whole family would be called in to scrutinise it, criticise it, admire it before he took it to the client. in that sense, preet had explained, his father's work had always been a family effort -- even his mother's comments were taken into account.

heer had never imagined so much depth to the home-of-the-light. she had always painted what she saw on the surface. now, to get a chance to understand what lay beneath was like discovering a whole new world -- so much to learn, so much to explore. her mind felt like it had been born again. preet had started being patient, but had been become enthusiastic as she drew him in with her questions and comments. by lunch time, they had dragged a table out into the garden to spread the unfinished blue-prints of the structure. by afternoon, there had been several charcoal covered sheets scattered over the original ones.

the cathedral had been special, preet had told her. it had been his father's pet project, a long-standing dream. something that he had meant to make as the culmination of all his understanding of beauty in architecture, the penultimate of what man could make out of the earth. and heer thought that it did exactly what he had intended it to be -- even to a architectural novice like herself, it spoke of beauty more than anything else. heer's last thought as she feel asleep that night was that she would have loved a chance to meet lalit juneja.

Edited by estee - 14 years ago

I'm grinning like mad right now 😛

oh you beauty !! 😃 yes!!

*shaking my head disbelievingly at meera's mad grin and anu's bharatiyanari-like exclamation*

i hope you guys don't regret this....

*more shaking head disbelievingly... *

😆

well.  now that you've opened your pandora's box, tell me what you think? 

regret? Never!! 😛 I'll edit it tomorrow, once my brain comes back to normalcy *nods* 😳

well Estee, you've done it. and i've hit the mother lode. it's seriously good.
searching for that calm sense of permanence?trying to reconnect with people?
living alone in a big city?having the sense that your mind's been renewed/born again?
you sure you didn't know me a few years ago ?!!

this is just too uncanny for words !
keep going you might be writing my future in these very pages.

Edited by locman - 14 years ago