Na...mono lage na...
E jiboni kichu jenu bhalo lage na...
A dance in the rain. The feel of her soft, moist hair, lashing against his cheek. A shared umbrella in another man's arms.
A matter of minutes. That was all it took to make Anurag Ganguly's universe crash down all over him.
Till now, staying at Taani's had been all about finding himself. About building an identity he could claim for his own, an identity that would prove to Taani that her faith in him had never been misplaced.
But now... certainty started flying out of the window, and with it so had everything he'd once believed about himself.
E jiboni kichu jenu bhalo lage na...I have no desire for this life, anymore...
It had been about finding a home ' his home...a home that had eluded him the moment he'd left Taani behind at the waterfall.
He smiled at that memory. Somehow, wherever he heard the sound of water gushing, memories of Taani would never be far behind. She had that sinuous, fluid grace about her, that unpredicatability: gambolling playfully one minute, flowing peacefully the next.
He was right to have brought her here.
"This?" Taani's voice was raised in disbelief, "You took a half-day from work for this?"
Her eyes were soaking in the sight before her: the Hoogly river rising and dipping in a whisper, its waters mirroring the blushing hue of the sky. The lattices of Howrah bridge looming above ferries that carried lovers to the other side.
Onu shifted his weight from one leg to another, not wanting to look her straight in the eye.
"I wanted us to do something different today...if you don't feel like it we can always '"
"Chal Hatt!" Taani shot back, sounding so much like her childhood self, "we haven't been on a ferry since '"
"Since you were nine and I was ten and I actually had a shape that wasn't round. I know." He grinned. That had been fun. Sometimes they'd lean over and draw patterns on water, marvelling at the ripples their fingers caused. Sometimes they'd point to a fish lurking beneath the surface...and sometimes, just sometimes, they would just lie on that snake-shaped nouka...
Sometimes it would be like this, one head on another's lap ' Onu's hand checking Taani's head for a fever the moment she complained of a headache, or Taani's finger tapping against his forehead, just to irritate him a little. Sometimes on her lap they would gaze at the blue sky beyond... two dreamers and a vast, endless world unfurling before their eyes.
They sat together now as well: the same people, the same ferry ' only the dreams they'd once dreamed were now just fragments scattered beneath their feet.
"Onu?" She was bending now, a frown marring her forehead. Her hair fell over her right shoulder, a silky black waterfall that stopped and pooled over his skin.
"You're being very quiet."
"And your hair is tickling my nose!"
He could tell how eagerly she wanted to retort to that, he could see it in the way she bit the side of her lip to stop herself from laughing ("Mere baal tere khamoshi se kya lena dena?").
"Not that I'm complaining," he said, "I've always liked your hair..."
"And I've always liked yours," she replied, blushing, "minus that awful hairgel!"
They laughed together, and spoke about everything except the present. The present was too fraught with fear, too laced with uncertainty. At least his present was.
The present was like this nouka...it would follow its own star, chart its own path over the river, allow you to see so much, yet float away before you could hope to touch what you saw.
The present was like the song she was singing now...it brought with it memories of past love. She had once told him how behind the sweetness of the song lay turmoil and confusion, how truly painful loving someone and not knowing you loved them felt.
No...I cannot set my mind, she sang, My life has no meaning for me anymore...
The present was forever changing, one second to another. Yet there were still some things about it that would never change. There would always be a sky above them, the river would always flow, and Taani would always hold his hand...
Na...mono lage na...
...or maybe not.
"Onu, talk to me," Taani whispered, breaking his silence, "No matter what happens to us, you'll always have me. I don't have to tell you that."
He obeyed. He talked. About his plans, about how he planned to spend the next few weeks. About the dreams he was only beginning to rebuild. Dreams that he had hoped with include her, in a different way than what she'd wanted.
Her hand moved towards his hair, in a benediction...or a blessing. Or maybe, just a plain, simple, unconditional gesture of comfort.
He talked till the sky was pink no more, till his head felt warm against her legs, till the wind blew strands of her hair in different directions, till his voice had gone rusty from too much talking, till his hands could no more draw patterns across the open air that breathed against their skin.
Taani said nothing.
Onu felt something loosening within him, something that had yearned to be set free.
For a few blissful hours, it was as if Subodh had never existed.
--
One touch...that would be all. His hand cupping her cheek. Her hair, falling like rain on his face. Her eyes like black ink, twin seals to both their fates..now shut as she let her song carry her to a place even he couldn't reach.
One touch, to convince himself that she was still there. That she wouldn't disappear.
E nodir dui kinare dui taroni...
Jatoi na baai nangor baandhaa...kaachche je te tai parini...
He could touch Taani now, but the day would come when she would no longer be his.
Taani, in an orange-peach salwar that made her look brighter and fresher than she already was, her head leaning to one side, her hand resting on the ferry...her smile so heartbreakingly familiar, because it was once a smile only he could have brought out from her. Her husky, haunting voice, singing a song that he had once thought was meant for him.
On both banks of the river I saw two boats,
I tried to anchor both of them
But could never reach your side...
There was a time when they were on the same side. When crossing the river wasn't even an option.
That time had been lost eight years ago, and it was he who had squandered that chance.
He had no right anymore. His eyes had no right to wish for the sight of her every morning, his feet had no right to walk in her direction, his hand had no right to trace the length of her hair.
His heart had no right to break the moment she'd choose another man. But it would, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He had no right to that ginger-hued glow. Not when his world was nothing but black, black, black.
Taani smiled at him, a warm friendly open smile, and for the first time in weeks he could not bear to return it.
She was beginning to turn away now: they had reached there destination and their charmed hour was up. It was enough to tear him apart.
He grabbed her hand and pulled him to her. He could feel the heat from their bodies through those layers of clothing, could feel the ice chip that was once his heart melting. She didn't speak, just waiting, her liquid eyes round and filled with questions.
"Don't go yet," he said, his tone of voice almost verging on begging, "Please."
"I won't," she answered, "Not unless you want me to."
His newfound heart sank to the bottom of his feet. If you want me to...what did she want?
Na...mono lage na...
Behind them, the sky blazed orange.
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