Cassata

Sometimes my grief feels as though I’ve been left alone in a room with no doors. Every time I remember that my mother is no more, it feels like I’m colliding into a wall that won’t give. There’s no escape, just a hard wall that I keep ramming into over and over, a reminder of the immutable reality that I will never see her again.

I’ll cry from inside, when I see a grandmother eating cassata ice cream at the roadside icecreamwala. Her bob cut hair, cheeks protruding like the tops of two peaches, her spectacles resting on her forehead at a little crooked angle. I’ll wonder what my Amma would have looked like in her seventies—if she would have the same perm, which was partly inspired by Lady Diana and partly due to the humid weather.

I imagine putting my arm around her, her stout frame leaning against mine though she hated anyone leaning against her, but I have had that privilege .She would carry the white Harrods bag which was very dear to her and her pink Nike sneakers which were among her prized possessions. She’d pluck the lint off my coat and pick on me—how my shoulders slumped, how I was not drinking enough milk(according to her milk is the elixir), how I should really get married. Meanwhile she would scan the market to find something else to eat, something spicy and tangy. And on the way back home way she would ask me to play "Bhar De Jholi" in my car and she would sing along with occasional Subhan Allahs in between. 

If I’m being honest, there’s a lot of anger. I’m angry at this old woman I don’t know, that she gets to live and my mother does not, like somehow this stranger’s survival is at all related to my loss. Why is she having that ice cream and my Amma isn’t? Other people must feel this way. Life is unfair, and sometimes it helps to irrationally blame someone for it.

Other day while sitting at Marine Drive I saw a boy’s mom place food from her spoon onto his spoon. He is quiet and looks tired and doesn’t talk to her much. I want to tell him how much I miss my mother. How he should be kind to his mom, remember that life is fragile and she could be gone at any moment.

Rest of it some other day.

Soon!

8^th of the May , Simran welcomed her birthday with enough- is- enough ultimatum from her family, she turned 29 and it was time of no more waiting, it was time for her to settle down, with good boy of their choosing, they have already given up on caste barrier, since 29 is already late by the societal standards.

She said “Sure! Why not”

She was pragmatist. She didn’t care for reckless pursuit of love. What was the point? Right.

Instead she trusted her family especially the brother to find her a man who would be a loving partner for life. After all marriage is about family not just individuals. ”My family’s opinion is all that counts.” She reassured.

The family got to work. They activated the premium memberships of the all matrimonial portals and apps. Filters were applied, caste, family, degree, money, looks, city, country blah blah blah!

Initially the results were unsatisfying. Every day, dozens of email matches would pop-up in her inbox. She was introduced to approx. 30 guys in a year.

 At first she said she was game. ”This is how it’s done,” she thought. 

Numbers exchanged. Text or whatsapp conversations started with basic questions. Favorite movie? Song? Food? On a couple of occasions, family meetings arranged but they were strained affairs. She found it awkward to orchestrate. The introductions were almost stilted. Several of the men seemed emotionally stunted, not knowing how to start small talk with someone of opposite sex. One suitor after getting not a quick reply to his texts declared that she had a boyfriend. Another prospective groom is too busy for a meeting. With other the starts didn’t aligned.Some other would send a insta follow request later.

In totality it didn’t worked out with any.

Months passed by. The family became desperate. Why couldn’t they find a suitable boy? What was wrong with their daughter? What was wrong with the stars? 

And a year later, it had begun to feel like torture to her. The repetition.

The things starts to get to her nerve. She needs to sort this out. So she googled a astrologer called her and set up a meeting in a coffee shop near her workplace.

She was seated in the coffee shop.Sitting across from her was a young woman  with lot of rings on fingers and a big necklace with different coloured rocks in it, she was Reenu Chopra a well known astrologer who charges a hefty amount for her consultation.

Simran had sought Chopra out to ask the one question on her mind.

“Am I ever going to get maried” she blurted out. “Because if I am not then just tell me now. I am exhausted I keep meeting the wrong men”

Chopra was peering into her laptop screen where she had complied Simran’s horoscope using the exact date time and location of her birth.”Yes there is man in your destiny” she pronounced a coy smile appearing her face.

“What? Really? What is he like?”

Chopra, continuing to interpret   from the chart in front her, began to describe what she envisioned. The man Simran would marry would be tall broad shouldered and settled in India.

Chopra continued with a string of descriptions continue to stare into her computer:: ambitious, knowledgeable,mentally stable not religious .

Simran mulled this over and thought that would be an improvement over the people she was meeting so far.

When would they meet? How?

To this Chopra could not divine a precise answer ”Soon she replied”, uncertain but reassuring “Soon.”

And we all are waiting for the “Soon” to come soon.  

Happy Middle!

“May came home 

with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and 

as large as alone.”

As my head hits the pillow, I turned sideways and pulled the sheets up, closed my eyes and tried best to sleep. 

My brain was going berserk, by thinking and maybe overthinking. 

I was so smitten that all I could think of is her face. 

The curl of her lips. 

Knuckles of her hands.

That round little nose. 

Cracks in the corner of her black eyes. 

Strands of hair on her forehead. 

And the ears! Yes the ears, with those shiny little earrings.

Ah! I wish I could paint. Like one of those renaissance painters.I would adorn my walls with her portraits.

I picked my mobile and wrote a text for her and deleted it.Did it again.And summoned my courage again but in vain.

So instead I texted a friend of mine.

“Dude! I met her today. And I am very smitten.”

He replied: “Avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boy - to woo women - and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do. “

“Okay grammar-nazi asshole! I get you.Will you fucking pay heed to what I am saying.” I replied agitated by his untimely linguistic sermon.

“Alright peasant! Shoot! All ears.”

“Attaboy!” I replied and continued.

“So I met Kannan! My only right right swipe. And oh boy! I think she is the one!”

“Don’t ejaculate prematurely. Give it some time. Crazy Fuck!.” He replied.

“Alrighty.” I replied back knowing I am overthinking about it like always and went back to sleep only to be woken up byknock on the door and shouting of my mother realizing I am late for the office.

So I dressed up without taking bath, just sprinkling the remaining drops of my perfume. Drinking the cup of milk, which according to my mom is the elixir and eating the boiled egg on my way out of the house. And as I was about to leave the house my mother again shouted my name and as I looked back she tossed me a apple, which I slipped into my bag.

After few minutes of walk I was at metro station.My destination was nine stations away, which was enough a time to move inside the metro instead of standing near the exit door. 

I moved to the conjoining part of the coaches lean against the rubber strips, listening to Linkin Park as kind of a  tribute to Chestor. A couple came in front of me holding hands, facing each other. 

And my eyes sent a quick reminder to my brain about Kanan. And how much I wish to be with her right than and there. 

So texted her instantly

“Sugar Pie! I think I have digested the Denver Omelette! My stomach is asking for me.

“Coffee always help.” She replied instantly.

Which brought a stupid smile on my face.

“What time?” I asked.

“6 ish.” 

“Starbucks.CP.?” I asked 

“Sounds like a plan.” She confirmed.

Long before I knew , we were in the lift of Warehouse cafe. Our tongues were in each other’s mouth. All I can taste is strawberry of her lip balm and whiskey she drank. My hands were  grabbing her ass. The button of the sleeve of her denim jacket was cold and touching my neck, and she was trying to kiss me deeper.

The lift bell rang. And we were at ground floor. We walked to the nearby kiosk and bought cigarettes, sat at the the bench. I pulled her near and rolled the sleeves of her jacket, and adjusted her hair behind her ears and marvel at the beauty that she was. 

Took her hand in mine and noticed a little red mark just above her wrist and below the thumb.

“How did that happen?”

“Its a birthmark.”

“Okay. I wish I could be as permanent in your life as this mark.”

“Only change is permanent dear boi!” She chuckled.

“Oh! Damn my parents didn’t named me ‘Change’ else I could have been permanent.” I retorted.

“You’re witty.”

“You’re pretty.”

“That makes a pretty deadly combo.”

And she laughed and I laughed too.

“You want to walk?” I asked.

“Nah, I am good.” she took off her shoes and light the cigarette and lay down in my lap.

I couldn’t resist kissing her forehead, which she really liked as she closed her eyes and took a deeper drag from the cigarette moreover she was under little influence of the alcohol, her voice was getting coarse, she said.

“Can you play some music my boi!”

“Your wish is my command, your honor.” and played Ella Fitzgerald

Her melodies voice filled the air as she sang 

“Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep

When love came and told me

I shouldn't sleep.”

Kanan Straightened up and light another cigarette, and said “She is good.” And with a pause she said “ You enjoy classics.”

“I do.” 

And for couple of moments we were silent enjoying the music.

“I reckon,you appreciate classics too. And I strongly recommend you to watch Casablanca.”

“You mean the movie Casablanca?” 

She enquired.

“Yes. The movie.”

“You mean Netflix and chill?” She winked and pulled my cheek.

“Yes.Netflix and Chill.” 

I repeated my answer with a smirk.

“That was smooth.” She patted my back, and continued “I have already seen it, but its worth a second time.”

“Did you like the ending? Don’t you think Rick should have stopped Ilsa?” I asked curiously.

“I think he was right in letting her go.”

“I doubt that.”

“You seems like a fan of happy endings.”

“Are you not?”

“Perhaps I am not. Endings are always painful. I would rather settle for a happy middle.”

“Okay.” I said severely hit by cruelty of reality she was trying to explain.

And I light a cigarette. Song changed and Elvis started singing “Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go,

You have made my life complete and I love you so.”

She smiled and said “I am in love with your playlist.”

We booked a uber and went home eating the apple.

And this love season continued for few months.

And one fine day I texted her. The message wasn’t delivered for hours and hours. I tried calling, number was switched off.

I was worried and wondering what could have happened. Where she could have gone.

And a day passed.

No contact. Whatsoever.

I contacted her friends. They informed she has gone somewhere, they don’t know where.

My anxiety grew and grew.

Another day passed.

To my relief, my mobile beeped and screen flashed

“Text Message Received: Kanan.”

I swiped it open and it reads.

“We had our happy middle. I love you and will always do. I shifted to Paris. Couldn’t tell you before.”

And another message came:

“Please don’t try and contact. Let’s keep it this way.”

“Comeback and makeup a goodbye at least.” I replied falling short of words to say.

And final message:

“Lets pretend we had one.”

And like that. Poof! She was gone.

Wallflower

Lying on the buggy of the camel ride under the pitch black sky, full of stars with no trace of clouds whatsoever.I was staring at the stars,trying to connect them and form some constellation, but in vain.

"My thoughts are stars,I cannot fathom into constellation" I recalled Gus telling this to Hazel. I felt the very same way, I have so many thoughts which were scattered,numerous things to share but they were not organised ,I can't put them together to make a logical sense out of it.

Sand beneath has turned ice like, I submerged my feet in it and it was sending a nip of chill down my spine. The breeze was soothing and had an alien smell to it.

Keshav was sitting on the small stairs of the buggy, shuffling the pictures in his mobile, trying to zero in his dp for all social media accounts.

While Yogesh was strolling in the desert,with only his silhouette visible to the naked eyes over the humps of sands in the desert, talking on his mobile to some of his girls.

In some distance the herd of camels were sitting on the cold sand, tied to a pole, grunting and munching the grass, lost in there own thoughts, just like three of us.

The lights of the camp on the other side of the road were dimmed, which was an indication for us to go inside.

Yogesh came back from his leisurely stroll looking little dejected.

"What happened bro?!" Keshav enquired
I straightened up in the buggy and made some space for Yogesh to sit.He ruffled his hair with both hands tilting his head sideways, climbed up the buggy, and said in exasperation
"I am so fucked"

I replied "We all are."

Keshav giggled and said "Completely agree, we all are fucked in one way or the other, and that's why we do this. Road trips."

Yogesh interrupted "There are things that even a road trip cannot fix."

I curiously asked "Like what?"

"Oblivious behaviour of your closed ones. That feeling when you feel being replaced by someone." he answered.

"We all are replaceable, however good we may be. There is always someone round the corner ready to grab our place." I explained, based on my recent experience.

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in overselves." Yogesh ruffled his hair again quoting Shakepeare.

Keshav said "Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.Face it and enough with your philosophical shit." and played "Afghan Jalebi" on his mobile.

We all started clapping in tune to music and jumped on the sand and started dancing.
Forgetting everything else.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be. 

Table For Two

"Audi alterampartem"

"What does that mean?" I asked little confused.

"It means 'Hear the other side' its latin baby. Its a legal maxim." She explained.

"I am all ears.Tell me the other side."

She smirked a little and said "There isn't any other side to it. Me and her just don't go well together."

"Truth be told. I find this rather unusual.

Maybe because I haven't seen any mother and daughter duo, who don't jell well. Allow me to say its little unorthodox."

"Maybe that's how I am. Unorthodox. Some may say paradox or whatever. I don't give a rat's ass." She explained.

"I am sold." I whispered to myself. Floored by her brazen and rebelliously brimming credence. 

There was silence on the table. Except for the sound of the fork touching the china plates, in which we're having fried eggs with sunny side up, as ordered by her.

I was staring into nothingness thinking about my mother and her affection and endless love, which I always takes for granted. And it got me thinking I can never be like her, or to put it lucidly I don't wanna be like her. Yet the clarity in her thoughts is drawing me towards her.

And she put her fork down and adjusted her hair into a bun. Took a sip of her filter coffee, leaving the marks of her lip color on the white mug.

The song in background changed to

"All You Need Is Love."

I started humming and asked her "You like The Beatles?"

"Yes. They are more than a band they are an institution."

"Who is favorite among them? Mine is Paul." I asked excitedly since its The Beatles.

"Ringo... Ringo Starr." She declared with a pause in her voice.

"But nobody likes Ringo Starr." 

"That's why I like him."  She said with a broad smile.

I smiled too at her unusual choice and conviction which was working like a kryptonite for me.

She took a big bite of her chocolate donut, which left chocolate marks on the corner of her lips, and she licked it. Which made me want to kiss her. But I didn't.

I eat my croissant and washed it down by big gulp of masala tea.

"What's your equation with your mother?" She asked.

And I lyrically replied with a couplet 

"Sakht Raho Pe Bhi Asan Ye Safar Lagta Hai,

Ye Mujhe Meri Maa Ki Duaaon Ka Asar Lagta Hai."

"I wish I too could say such fancy words, about mine." She said with a sad smile.

I waited for a minute for the moment to pass and inquisitiveness kicked in, I asked her for little background for such gloom.

"Its long story." She said trying to eschew the topic, but I insisted her to share the story and told her,

"Sadness shared is halved. Happiness shared is doubled."

"Okay! Here it is.She left me and my father when I was 16 and married some other guy and came back to us two years later. 

Because the guy she married left her, for someone else. 

And my father readily accepted her again, as if nothing has happened between them."

"I am sorry to hear that. But if I may ask. Do you blame your father for that?"

"I don't. He is a good man, I think he did it for me. And partly for himself maybe." 

"What do think made your father accept her again.Do you think physical needs sometimes overpower the emotional needs?" I asked

She sat quietly blowing the smoke in the wind from her cigarette and taking long drags contemplating the different notions in her mind before speaking up.

"First of all you should know sometimes, the commonality between two people is more important than love. Love can make you adore someone, but spending your whole life, is a different ballgame all together.

And I think my father and mother have a lot in common.

And second of all, physical needs can never be greater than emotional needs."

And she took a deep breath and chain smoked.

While I sat across, thanking God for giving me simpler problems in life.

Shakespeare's Wisdom

The moon was full and was shining luminously in pitch dark sky, with hints of clouds scattered in fragments all over. Brightness of moon reflecting on the sea and blinking stars were making the behold more splendid.The sound of waves was akin to Bethoveen's symphony and was euphonious to the ears.

The tides were high and hitting hard on the rocks, which were piled up to form a causeway, on which three of them were sitting, gazing into nothingness across the sea.The tiny splashes of water were showering them, with each hit.The salty wind was making lip smacking distasteful,but  the silence was comfortable between them, and waves were creating a rhythm and they became chained to it.

A group of friends were sitting at some distance from them, all they could hear was the distant nonchalant voices and someone from that group played the song "Ajeeb Dastan Hai Ye" which caught their fancy and they started humming along. Since the sound was coming from some distance so it was low, so Emm played the same song on her mobile phone, and they again started singing along with Lata Tai.

"Mubarakan Tumhe Ke Tum,
Kisi ke noor ho gaye
Kisi ke itne pass ho
Ke sabse door ho gaye."

Gee looked at Bob with mischief in her eyes and Bob responded instantly "Was that for Kay*?.. Kisi ke itne pass ho. Ke sabse door ho gaye."
Gee had a good laugh and said "Maybe or maybe not."
Emm asked "What are you guys laughing at?"

Gee explained to her that Kay,Bob's and her best friend went on three consecutive holidays with someone else and for that matter Bob is so pissed with her, that he took transfer to some other city.

"Oh! I see." Replied Emm.

"I am not that shallow." explained Bob.
"Oh! My! My! Then why did you take the transfer?" questioned Gee.
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I didn't. It just happened."
"Chuck it."

And they were silent for couple of minutes, meanwhile the song changed to
"Lag Jaa Gale Ki
Phir Haseen Raat
Ho Na Ho.."  and a couple sitting next to them started dancing.

Gee was staring deep into the horizon and said "Isn't it lovely. This love in the air.This very scene,the full moon, the sound of the waves, classic songs."
"And the peace. The peace Kay always looks for.
She would have enjoyed it." Bob added.
"Next time, we will come with Kay." Declared Gee

Emm was busy checking her social media feeds, and suddenly her mobile rang and she walked to the other side of the causeway to talk.

While Gee and Bob continued the conversation.
"So,why?" Asked Gee
"I don't know. Maybe that's how my defence mechanism works. Isolating myself from displeasing situations" Explained Bob
"Or maybe its just wishful thinking." Said Gee
"What's your defence mechanism?" asked Bob.
"Tolerance may be or acceptance you can say."
"May be I am not that mature."
"May be."

Emm was still on her phone talking, and walking farther and farther.

"What do you think Kay's defence mechanism is?" Asked Gee.
"Acting out or passive aggression maybe." said Bob.
"Do you think isolation works?"
"It do works. You know what Shakespear said
'Take but degree away, untune that string,
And hark, what discord follows!'  Though this is from some lesser know plays, but it fits in the situation."
"That means you're happy in the new city."
"No it doesn't mean that. Rather it means sometimes you have to untune few strings while playing the violin, just to know where the discord is."
"Damn! You and your love for literature."
Bob put his arm around Gee and said "You know Gee! What else Shakespear has said 'When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions' ".

"Come back man! Just comr back already."
"I am trying."
"Try harder."
And Gee quoted Aamir Khan's dailoge from Dil chahta hai "Hum Dost the. Hain. Aur Rahenge."

And a stray dog came wagging his tail, sniffing the ground perhaps looking for a trace of food, but in vain.He came near to Gee and she tried hushing him away, but he started wagging his tail more hurriedly, so Bob hushed him louder and he went away.

They too stood up and signaled Emm and walked to their hotel room.

Flight Behavior

Once upon a time, in a land far far away from the maddening city, there lived a girl Kay, with her parents.

She was very close to her mother as she pampered her and never let her do much in household chores. Her father was a wise man, who kept a friendly relation yet was strict on her.

Kay loved her little village dearly, the nooks and corners of it beaconed her, and she never wanted to leave it. She felt a connection and sense of belonging for her village.

When Kay was a little girl she had small group of friends,and Charolette was the best she had. Chaolette was the ideal friend that we read about in books and write eassys about.

Charolette use to pick her up for school, shared her lunch and at times did her homework as well. They had the best of the times together.

But as she hit her teens,her father made her change the school which eventually made the group of friends grow bigger and few new ones were added and gradually Charolette got the backseat.

Although Kay remained in denial mood for ignoring Charolette , but the truth was out and about.

Kay found solace in new company she had, Bruna and Aanastesia. They had become the mainstay of her life, of course with few other additions and substations here and there.

The friendship and bond they had seemed invincible. They hangout at each other's place, went for movies shared secrets and laughed and what not!

As the times went by Kay grew older, her father realised that to make her a stronger and independent woman in future, he must sent her to big city for higher studies, to which Kay reluctantly agreed.

Thinking how difficult the life would be without her mother and outside her little village, and without her dear friends, she headed to the big city.

Keeping aside her apprehensions, she started her life with new hopes and dreams and whims and fancies in the big city and came across lot of other boys and girls from other villages.

And she struck a chord with two of them. Gloria and Ashton, and they three became the best of the friends and more like a family.

While Bruna and Aanastesia took the backseat she had a gala time with Gloria and Ashton and they had become like her siblings that she never had.

And just like Bruna's and Aanastesia's bond, their bond too seemed invincible and it looked like they will stay friends forever.

But slowly Anastesia vanished while Bruna became dormantly present, and Kay in her denial mood of ignoring anyone, grew further close to Ashton and Gloria.

Little did Ashton and Gloria knew, that soon she will meet new people and develop the same bond with them and move on in life.

And as the time passed by, and Kay became older the same cycle kept repeating every few years.
She met new people and grew bored of old ones.

Today while she was reciting bedtime stories to her granddaughter Emma, Emma asked
"Grandma! Who was your best friend?"
Kay got lost in her thoughts and after a while she said

"My Dear Honey, there were many. You know, the sitting arrangement in a flight, how the special people are being seated in first class and less special in business and than premium economy and lastly the economy.
In my flight of friendship many people have enjoyed the luxury of first class but sooner or later they were being downgraded to premium economy or economy to adjust new ones in first class.
So dear, there was one best friend for every timeline in my life."