ff: ''a many splendoured thing", update pg. 102 - Page 4

heer stood at the window, staring at the face of the city that she could see from that angle. a mixture of the modern and the traditional; facades of glass-and-steel, reflecting light in the afternoon sun, and the more grounded, earthy hues of brick and stone like the  brownstone she was in.

she had spent the entire morning, tramping up and down preet's favourite streets, learning the language of human-made structures. she, who was used to working with nature, towering trees, the delicateness of leaves, the colour of flowers, found it fascinating to discover the grandeur of what man created out of rock and stone and brick and mortar. how, even in the middle of a concrete jungle, there was always space for grace in how a building melded into, merged out of, its surroundings.  he had shown her the ugly -- the haste and awkwardness of the redeployment housing, the stodginess of the local community center -- as well as the beautiful -- the lovely red-brick library that stood in the steel-and-glass heart of the main commercial street, or the ivy-covered hospital at the end of their street.

all her life, heer had sought out beauty in everything her eyes had alighted on. she rejoiced in how her knowing preet had opened up one more path along which it could be found.

they had been returned to the brownstone, deep in the middle of an argument about the importance of religious places on a city's facade. she had thought the ultimate expression of civilisation was the stark skyline of new york city; he had been eloquent on the skyline of istanbul and rome. they reached the terrace of the brownstone, passing through the second and the third floors where he and his brothers lived. he told her how his father would often spend time on the terrace observing the play of light across the landscape. it was one of his first memories, he had said, his father bringing his little brood of boys to the terrace, during sunrise, sunset, and all times in between, to teach them the wonder of how light comes to the world. how an architect had to understand the fall of the light at all those different times, to understand how to design a structure to take advantage of the light, rather than to fight with it.

as she stood listening to him and looking out at the scene in front of her, heer began to understand the passion that had driven his father to try to build the ''home-of-light''. down on the street, where everyday man lived, there was so much about the light that they missed. what he had been struggling to acheive was to bring the play of light from the terrace down to earth, where everyone could find pleasure in it as well.

she had immediately wanted to run to the garden to start building on the ''home-of-light'' with what she had learnt that day. but preet had suddenly discovered that he was starving, deciding that she had to be too, since they had not taken a break from the moment that she had met him at nine that morning. he had ushered her into the ''boys den'', as he called it, asking her to make herself comfortable while he went in search of john-uncle to get them some food.

heer put aside her impatience, and walked around the room, observing it with interest. it was a large space, strong, workmanlike, and yet, warm enough to invite comfortable conversations. where most of the walls were covered with bookshelves, one side of the room had french windows, running from ceiling to floor, filtering the afternoon sun into the room. she walked over to the windows and found with peasure that it overlooked the garden - and the home-of-light.

she looked at it with new eyes. this was a new angle -- from above, she could see the two walls meeting in an edge, rising from the ground towards a ... what had he imagined, the late mr. juneja? a dome would have been too reflective of the light. he would've wanted a top structure that would collect the light, and stream it down into the main body. she remembered a cathedral she had once visited in koln, where the walls had rushed up from the floor, to arch sharply into steeples. and impossibly high above their heads, the walls carried tall windows, which streamed the light in between the columns. there too, the structure had gathered the light -- but the cathedral dominated, intimidated, making you feel small and insignificant before the power of the light.

this was a more sweet and intimate structure. it would be one that gathered you up into it's arms and held you upto the light. she wondered what he had imagined, that he had not been able to put down on paper before he died. heer's eyes turned inward as her mind started flying over the possibilities.

as she stood, still at the window, a movement down at the structure caught her eye. a man stood at the wall, marking the stone at the finished edge with a chisel. dark hair, sculpted shoulders, a lean back that sloped into blue jeans worn relaxed along a slim waist. heer felt her face suddenly flame as she wondered whether people always found it comfortable doing hard labour without their shirt on. she moved back into the shadows to try to cool her cheeks, but it did not help.

heer watched as he was joined by two others, both of them looking bulkier, slow, less graceful in comparison. soon they were hard at work, measuring, marking, laying stones, packing them in firm, working as a team, smooth and steady. and she watched as if compelled -- she watched him. she couldn't move her eyes off the play of muscles along his arms and shoulders, his back, as he started chiselling at the broken edges of the unfinished wall, brushing off the surface to prepare it for laying the stone block lying tumbled behind the wall. such power in that back, illuminated in the warm light of the sun. there was something strangely compelling and similar about the light on that body and the light warming the stones. she could not put her finger on it, no matter how much she tried. and ordinarily, that lack of clarity would have irritated her. but instead, she was content to absorb the sight in front of her.

she was not aware if she had moved or not. but the man below suddenly stopped working and turned around to look around, as if sensing that he was being watched. to her consternation, he turned around to look directly at the window above him. she knew that he could not see her through the sheer curtains that draped over the window. yet, she shrunk further back against the drapes, not daring to breathe. she watched his eyes -- those deepset dark eyes -- searching; searching for her. she watched as his buddies shouted out to catch his attention to help with the beam that they were placing above the stones. distracted, he turned back to work and was soon back to toiling on the wall.

when preet came striding back into the room, heer jerked out of her reverie, so complete was her absorption. he was closely followed by john uncle carrying a tray for them. seated at the square conference table, heer kept her eyes downcast, giving her full attention to the napkin that john-uncle laid out in front of her. she was afraid that if preet could look into her eyes, he would see her absorption in that lean male form in the garden shining like a beacon, loud, bright, unavoidable. that preet would also see what she suddenly knew with brutal clarity, that she could have stood there at that window, watching someone whose name she didn't even know, watching him forever.