Garden of Sunshine

“All flights leaving from Bangalore International Airport have been delayed due to turbulent weather conditions. Passengers boarding the flight to London are requested to bear with us for the delay. The flight would be ready for take-off at 2 p.m.”

Pranav looked at his watch and sighed deeply. 6 hours to go before he left Bangalore - the city he fell in love with since he took the reins of his senses. His heart was still uneasy and his thumping pulse was unnerving him. More than he lamented leaving his city behind, he felt deep restlessness looking into the eyes of Kritika - his fiancée to be. She was sitting by his side, clutching his arms whilst he could only find a denial of approval to leave her behind, in her eyes. He felt at a loss of words to enunciate that he would be gone only for 2 years. It was his dream to study Journalism from the University of the Arts London. But one look at her eyes and he felt a hollowness that would await him in London. She wouldn’t be there.

____________________________________________________________________________________

It was a chilly morning. Pranav had woken up way too early in contrast to his schedule. Kritika knew what the weather could do to Pranav. She too was brought up in the same city. She had rushed him in packing the bags and taking enough pairs of socks for the journey. She knew his feet stunk when they were sweaty. She had bought a pair of mufflers with her because she knew he would ‘obviously’ forget them. And forget them he did.

Pranav felt the grip on his arm loosening. Kritika had fallen asleep on his shoulders. He remembered her once saying that the most comfortable sleep she had was not on her pillow but on his shoulders. He adjusted his shoulders for her comfort and parted the wisp of wet hair gummed to her cheeks. Her teary eyes had given away every bit of resistance that she could muster when she was awake.

Pranav kissed her on her cheek and covered her up with a blanket. What a terrible person he had become, he thought. An overwhelming crease on his forehead loomed over his grim face when he realized the promised he had made to her - that he won’t let her shed a tear for anything in the world. Yet it made him weak, knowing the fact that he was the reason this time. A solemn promise of never leaving her alone. Ever. Nonetheless, he was going away.

Pranav looked at his watch again. 11 AM. He might as well take some rest. He rested his head on top of hers as he adjusted the blanket over her feet. He loved the smell of her hair. It had the power to make him happy whatever depths of melancholy he was in. It was the smell he would associate when he met Kritika for the first time. A whiff of freshness and a feeling of warmth. It was during his college 5 years back.

Pranav recalled himself spending his classes on the last bench, at the same spot every day. Daydreaming was his hobby and scribbling away his thoughts in his notepad was his passion. Not quite the ‘last-bencher’ stuff anyone would expect. But he wandered within a world of his own when the professor preached his sermons without mercy. He liked to remain content.

Kritika, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. She was quite the untamed-force which made up an air of enigma around her. She was inquisitive, competitive and tremendously impatient. She was flamboyance personified. She could give anyone a piece of her mind whenever she liked. And the best part of all, she looked gorgeous in the orange salwar that she frequently wore to the lectures.

Pranav didn’t quite know anything about this until the day he encountered the dashing diva in the college canteen. He was munching on his dosa and chatting away with his friends. The conversations got funnier and as a result, louder. Unexpectedly, there was a tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me. Which year?” It was a girl with inquisitive auburn eyes. Three other girls were beside her too.

“2^nd year. What’s the problem?” Pranav spoke with confidence.

“2^nd year, right? Get the hell out of the canteen now!” shouted the girl. She twitched her eyebrows in the rage. Some boys came and stood beside her.

Sensing trouble, all his friends, including Pranav packed up and left the canteen without a word. The girl seemed furious. “You! Come with me,” she pointed out at Pranav.

Pranav was holding a piece of paper in his hands. She could see that he had scribbled some lines on it. Without a second thought, she snatched the paper from his hand.

She read them aloud, “Risen in the stars, Walked through the garden of sunshine... Meet me at the gates of eternity, I'll be…”

“I'll be…what? You haven’t completed it. So, you are a poet, eh? You've got a big mouth for a poet! Apologize for your behavior back there!”

“I am sorry. Can I have that back? I don’t remember the lines and I’ve got to complete it before I forget the rest of it.” Pranav nervously stared at the ground.

“No you can’t. That’s your lesson for today.”

She folded the paper and kept in her bag. She was just walking away when Pranav called out to her. She couldn’t just walk away from him just like that!

“Excuse me, miss…”

“Kritika”

“Quite a unique name. Umm… I make great coffee. Can I bring some for you tomorrow? I don't want to keep any grudge between us. Plus, I am really… really sorry.”

“Oh! Is it? Kritika taunted him.

But then, she felt a flowing bitterness within her. That’s not how she was. She softened up and said, “I like my coffee cold. See you tomorrow. Junior.”

She walked off swinging her plait behind her. Somewhere at that moment, Pranav noticed a smile on her face. He couldn’t believe how he got the guts to hit it off. Neither did Kritika. But there was definitely a splendid spark. She had been his senior in college. A fact that Pranav always made a point to make fun of Kritika whenever she acted like a kid in front of him. A wide smile adorned Pranav’s face when he acknowledged this fact now, Kritika beside him.

He remembered being drawn towards Kritika by some irresistible force, a charisma and an unyielding desire confess his feelings to her. And he knew in his heart that it was the same mystifying force, which took control of Kritika too when Pranav gave her the red lily and said those magical words. The taming of a tempest was an unbelievable tale that both of their friends seemed hard to swallow, but nonetheless, it had been done. And Kritika, with all her soul, accepted that Pranav was the one. He was the perfect person in the world in front of whom she could remove the mask off her ‘public’ personality and just be herself in all her vulnerabilities.

The first time Pranav took her on a long ride on his father’s bike, he reckoned how she opened the ribbon form her fragrant black hair and let it flow in the air with her arms spread out like an angel’s wings. How his heart leapt with joy when he saw her exulting in the rear mirror! He had never sensed what freedom felt like. This was it.

They glided along the road to the sea shore adjacent and the sun on the horizon. Pranav recalled stopping his bike and taking in the mesmerizing view of wild waves crashing on the shore. Kritika held his hands and closed her eyes. She looked beautiful with the sun beaming on her smiling face. He couldn’t for once decide who looked more stunning, the view in front of him or the girl beside her.

Before he could realize it, she brought her lips enticingly close to his. She had never been this bold before. Pranav held her trembling hands and placed it on his chest. “It’s more to the rhythm of your heartbeats right now,” he spoke. There was silence, the one where they both knew nothing needed to be said to let each other know this was their moment. Only she knew how much restraint on her part it had taken to wait for the right moment. This moment. This was the first time in her life she had known how painful a virtue or a sin patience could become.

____________________________________________________________________________________

“Passengers for flight A-230 bound to London are hereby notified of proceeding to the security check in an hour. Thank you.”

“Baby? Is it time?” He heard a drowsy whisper. Kritika had woken up.

“Still an hour left. Am right beside you.”

“But you’ll leave me behind. What will I do without you? You know you are the only best friend I have.”

“I am still sitting beside you, Kritika. And you are still holding my arms tight. How can I leave you behind like this? I’ll drag you to the plane if you refuse to come with me”

She let go his arm and turned around. “You are still making jokes, no? You don’t understand how I feel, no?”

“Kritika… Kritika… look at me. A smile appeared on his face. She always behaved a bit childish when she was annoyed. With brimming innocence on her face, she would appear as the morning flower which just needed a bit of benevolent sunshine to bloom in all its glory. Pranav knew this. He would deliberately avoid her at first, just to make her a bit cranky. Just for fun. And when she would puff up her cheeks like an angry toddler, it was just the right time for him to wrap his arms around her and make things better. He would give up anything in the world at that precious moment when she cozied herself in his arms and asked him every single time, “How much do you love me?”

There was only one answer. “More than you do.”

“Passengers boarding the flight to London are requested to complete the security check within 20 minutes”

Pranav arose and swung his bags over his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, perhaps to wake up from an unfinished dream and find himself on his bed back at home. Not today.

He turned around, “So you are not going to see me off till the security? Are you still angry with me at a time like...? ”

Kritika hastily turned around before he could complete his sentence. Her eyes were swollen with the unceasing stream of tears that rolled down her cheeks. The anguish was clearly written on her face.

In a steady yet hesitant voice, she murmured, “Please don’t go Pranav. It’s not that I don’t want you to go. I want to make your life bigger, make a great career. But I don’t want you out of my sight. I know I sound like a selfish fool. But I can’t help it! ”

A guard standing in the corner walked up to Pranav and asked him to hurry up for the baggage deposit. Pranav quietly picked up his bags. He felt helpless in not being able to give any plausible reply. With a heavy heart, he grabbed Kritika’s arm and drew her up from her seat.

“Passengers boarding the flight to London are requested to complete the security check within 20 minutes”

The guard grew impatient. Kritika hurriedly wiped away tears from her eyes, distorting the kaajal in a bloating smudge. She knew she was embarrassing him in a public place; she knew it would be uncomfortable for him. She hid her face in her scarf, but her eyes said it all.

“Sir, please proceed to the check-in area. We don’t want you to be late for boarding.” The guard spoke with urgency this time.

Pranav went to the baggage check and waited in the queue. They were hurrying with the checks lest the weather got choppy again. From there, he could see Kritika standing in the visitor’s bay, impatiently waiting to see a last glimpse of him in person before he would disappear for a long time.

“Please move to the security area sir, we’ll be boarding the bus to the plane shortly” the personnel at the baggage spoke. The same security guard urged him to move along quickly to complete the other formalities. Pranav followed the directions with his mind drawn into a limbo, where was lost in a never satisfying contemplation of his decision to leave his love behind.

Suddenly, he looked around. He had moved into an area where he lost sight of Kritika. Guilt and panic caught hold of him. Was she gone? Did he miss a chance of telling her how much he would miss her? He desperately wanted to behold Kritika one last time in his eyes before he took off. Dropping his bags in a corner, he ran towards the visitor’s area in a frenzied fit only to find a familiar face blocking his way.

“Mister! Where do you think you are going?” He caught hold of Pranav’s arm. It was the same security guard who had met Pranav before.

“It’s urgent sir. I have left my belongings with my fiancée. I need just a few minutes.”

“At least you can tell me the truth, sir. Even I got married last week! Is that the same girl? ” He said, pointing her out.

“Yes… Yes!”

“5 minutes. Only 5”

“It’ll be more than enough.”

Pranav ran towards the corner where he had last caught a glimpse of Kritika. His feet fell short of completing the whole run when he saw her standing in the same place. Their eyes crossed. He ran up to her, took her in his arms and kissed her then and there.

After a moment of realization, Kritika wiped off her tears and said, “You kissed me in public?”

Pranav smiled back and said, “I am leaving the country. Aren’t I?”

This time, a subtle yet unpretentious smile adorned her face. Pranav could now go in peace. The guard signaled Pranav to get back. Pranav kissed her forehead. He unfastened his bracelet and tied it round her wrist.

“I’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart.”

Kritika didn’t say a word. She only gave him an envelope.

It was a long walk to the flight. In his heart, he carried a glimmer of hope that he was going to be alright. Most importantly, he was leaving with an assurance, that Kritika would be fine too.

“Please fasten your seatbelt or call us for any assistance” declared the air hostess. 

Pranav looked down from the window as the plane glided into the blue infinite. He was leaving behind a part of his mind and a bigger part of his heart beneath the clouds.

“You may unfasten your seatbelt now” the airhostess politely asked Pranav. He had held the envelope since he took off. He had held back his tears long enough, he realized. 

A part of Kritika, her handwriting, opened all floodgates -

“This is for you, my life:”

On the inside were the words written,

Risen in the stars, 

Walked through the garden of sunshine... 

Meet me at the gates of eternity, 

I'll be waiting with a butterfly in my hands... 

And say, "Fly free if you love me"

He believed it was always meant to be. 

Being together.

It was the same piece of paper, the same string of words. Half of them created by him. And half of it completed by her.

The city of dreams

They call this city - ‘a city of dreams’. Billions of dreams rise up every moment of everyday. Some of them realize into reality while others get squatted mercilessly. But the dreams never stop rising up again in a hope to see the light of the dawn, breaking the shackles of a nightmarish reality the city hides within itself.

I came out of the 8 P.M local after a grueling day in the city. Somehow, I managed to brush past an ocean of men and women who seemed to rise above the tide of the cacophony to jostle and submerge into the ocean again. I was pushed, I was bashed and I was broken in spirit. But somehow, I did not seem to mind that at all. A pity from within caressed my ‘inconvenience’ when I realized that this was the way the city seemed to move forward, the way dreams were being chased relentlessly in pursuit of nothingness.

I looked down, sweat dripping from my brows, my eyes fixated on the railway tracks after the local had disappeared into the smog.

“Where have they come from? Where are they leading to?”

Do the travelers really have a destination? An end to their journey?

Why do they pick themselves up every day and unfold the same story day after day after day?

What has this city given them? Food, shelter, livelihood?

A hand reached out me, derailing my train of thoughts. It was the everyday child soiled in the blanket of the city’s dirt, stretching her hand out to me as if I owed her something.

“Why is she begging of me? No, No! What is she begging of me?”

I’m not a messiah. I didn't own her anything.

“Is she asking me to give her food/money? 

Or a ransom to rescue herself from the spasms of atrocities that were evident on her wrinkled face?”

What was I to do but to simply move on?  I can’t trust every child extending its arm to be valued with my concerns. The city has taught me to be wary enough to snub away such emotions. I give myself a resounding justification of the propaganda that I've always found convenient – not to encourage child beggars.

“Was I wrong this time?” I asked myself.

Nah. Probably not.

I couldn't be bothered on an empty stomach.

Slowly mounting up the stairs into the land of the surface dwellers, manifestations of the city pierced my eyes. A cool breeze swept past me which smelt like the rheumy, nauseating stench from the gutters of the city - home to some, a workplace for some in the city. Out of repugnance, I clasped the railings of the stairs which led me to the exit.

My senses gradually came back to normal. I had to catch a bus to my ‘home’, my destination for the day. On the edge of the road, I looked towards left. And then I looked towards right. And I looked towards left again; I had been taught this in my school. I had to survive while getting across the street. I had to come out alive on the other side of the road to make it to another day.

Is this what the city’s stooped to offer me after all this time? A few seconds of emptiness on the road, every day, as an offer to see my loved ones?

What did the city offer me then? My life? Love? Or an endless hamster-wheel run for me to never stop and wonder who or what put me on the wheel?

On the other side of the road, a few faces appeared resembling the autumn leaves ready to be shaken off in the wind. Ignoring them seemed the best option. The bus stop was a shaded respite for many during the day. During the night, it became home to a few. I took support of a dented pillar and waited for the arduous journey back to the hole from where I crawled out of this morning. Time never seems to pass when you've to wait for the last leg of your transit if you've already pictured a cold shower and hot food.

I took notice of a few girls playing at the other end of the bench. One of them was hitting the other for an arm that the latter had pulled off from the doll of the former. There was no crying, no tears in the eyes of the one who was hitting. Just a 10 year old stern face. She probably knew that no one was bothered about her emotions over a broken doll which had no use whatsoever. Tears rolled out of the girl who had been hit. Her cheeks had reddened and soiled with her tears. May be she wasn't mature enough for the kind of life she was dealing with at the age of 5.

Wait, did I have some money on me for them to buy a new one? I checked my wallet. Green notes only.  Bad luck for them, I didn't have change to spare.

Not my fault.

As I looked to the other way, a thick plume of smoke had started engulfing the area. I choked and coughed, trying to frantically fan away the poisonous smoke form my face. The smell – Carbon monoxide – caused due to incomplete combustion of organic matter. This knowledge came in handy today to decide whether I should bear with more of the revolting smell from the city or not. As the wind changed its direction, I could vaguely see a silhouette of an old lady fanning a burning log of wood. There she was sitting on a red brick, gazing into the fire lifelessly. She was wearing a tattered old yellow sari, which refused to cover her entire body.

My eyes had become watery and pain had become sharper. It had become unbearable.

“Are you mad lady? Why the hell would you burn a log in a public place, in the middle of summer?” I wanted to shout onto her face.

I chose not to. She was boiling water for a handful of rice, probably the only morsel of salvation on this devilishly hot and humid day. I realized the fact that losing control over one’s patience over circumstances governing your life had no meaning in this city. I could have shouted. She could have simply unheeded me. She was probably deaf in the least I could have known.

A lady in her late forties was sitting beside her doing the same thing I had thought in my mind just a while back. She was as lean as the dented pillar itself on which I was leaning. She was carrying a child in her arms. I assumed it was a couple of years old from a brief look at them. The child had woken up from its sleep and started wailing loudly which irritated the mother to no extent.

For the lady with the child, the water had been boiled too long and the smoke made her child weep uncontrollably. For the lady with a foot in the grave, it did not even matter if the water had already spilled and doused the fire.  For both of them - No attention paid, nothing to lose, and no love lost before ending another day.

I asked myself again, what has the city given them? The answer was not a difficult one - Whatever they've managed to snatch.

The bus came hurtling sideways and screeched to a halt. I climbed in after being heckled again. It was irrelevant. It meant no disrespect if people involuntarily violated you. They were the same passengers as was I. I took a seat and looked out of the window. The fiber off the window made a rattling noise as the driver slammed his foot on the pedal. I looked out of the window and saw the same old, dreary bus stand. On its side was a poster – ‘Keep your city clean’. Clean, the city was – of dirt, not of people. I threw a last look at the old lady in the tattered yellow sari. Faint feelings of pity churned up in my heart. She did not have anything to look forward to at the end of the day, not even a soft bed.

The bus crawled forward. I looked on as the lady as ancient as the city itself, rose up from her seat. She tore off the poster from the stand and laid it flat on the pavement. She then proceeded to empty the cooked rice on it and offered it to the baby in her mother’s arms.

I had seen enough for the day. I had picked up plenty from the city.

Now, it made me wonder again… what did the city then finally had to offer?

An answer that simple, doesn't exist. Even if it does, it changes its form and meaning every moment for everyone, everywhere. In reality, it might not suffice anyone’s curiosity after all.

But one thing’s for sure though, the city never lets you lose hope or stop dreaming for another day.