Interpreter of Maladies
Monday, July 18, 2005
first attempt at story writingTHE BALCONY
She just stood on the balcony for the next hour or so. Without realizing that it was the tail end of April and the sun was at its fiercest in the sky. Nothing seemed to make a difference. To her or to the little house that she had built an year back. No, not she..they had built. Though she wondered whether she can use "they" now as the term has ceased to exist. It came into existence a couple of years back when she had first met him on the bus ride to the university. Easygoing and carefree-were the words that seemed to define him for her. She found the simple trust and belief in that rash and passionate man and never looked back to double check.
If only she did...."what would have come out of it"..she asked herself. She would have been on the balcony an year earlier maybe. Both of them were proponents of free relationships. They scorned ties and attachments of any form. Love, for them was a misused word and they preferred to call the certain something between them as companionship rather than love. Looking back, she thought "maybe if she could have distanced herself from the high ideals and stooped to the mortal meanings....".
The decision to "live in" was as sudden as their surprise meeting. He had pulled out the architect designs of his new flat and over coffee, told her about the small rooms, the narrow lobby and the pleasant balcony. She listened intently, craving to be a part of that thing that he felt, still not being able to voice it over the high flung idealism that they both revered. Just then, he came out with it. Not really a "live in" but more of a convenience arrangement. More of a cost sharing arrangement. "Was it all that he wanted", she asked herself. The little house overlooking the small playground across the street was a world in itself. She decorated it with the pamper of a mother dressing a child. She voluntarily abstained from stepping into his territory though, knowing well enough the implications of a slip. It would mean losing a friend as well as something she never really had in effect.
The last one year had been like a roller coaster ride. They had made progresses in their respective careers. She had started writing a regular column for the morning newspaper and he had started working in the best law firm in the city. Under the shell though, things were as staid as always. She sometimes saw a sudden glint in his eyes while she poured coffee in the morning or an amused smile when she brushed her teeth near the common sink. Sometimes he talked about future plans and she waited with bated breath as to the instant when he would mention her but aside from the certain awkward moments, when something occassionally slipped out, and everything would pause. "Those pauses, why didnt I ever pick up those threads to reach out to him"...she asked herself.
She had met someone a few weeks back. An old school friend. Somebody on whom she had a crush for years. He had travelled far and wide for all these years and had finally settled down to work for her newspaper. They had started spending some good time together and she had started noticing that she reached home later than he did, these days. Obviously, there were no questions asked, but why then did she notice a strange effort in those staid eyes to stay calm. She could not correlate the simple logic until the day when the two men she knew, clashed together. He had come to pick her up from the office that day, as a surprise. It was his birthday and she had missed it completely. He had booked the coveted table at the Italian restaurant and the champagne in the ice bucket was waiting for them at home. She had made the mistake of going out for dinner with the school friend that evening. The shock numbed him probably. How he understood it...she still wonders about that. In the morning, everything was as always. He had emptied the champagne in the sink and she could smell it from the water. The flowers and the cake were thrown in the trash can. And that evening, he didnt come back home.
She went looking. At places, she knew, he had always frequented. Friends, acquaintances, she called everyone...only to avail no response. He never went anywhere. He didnt come home. She thought to herself, is this also a right he can avail-to miss without a trace and never care enough to tell her where he is. Is this a part of that unsaid agreement that binds both of them together but never adheres. They are like two ends of a rubberband which never stay together unless something snaps to bring them back.
It was a night when she discovered how far apart they had gone, all the time never realizing how together they could be. This morning she had stood on the balcony waiting for him. His face appearing from the corner of the turn-she was waiting. Morning had turned to noon and it was slowly nearing sunset. She was losing hope and herself in the process. She sank on the hard marble of the balcony and closed her eyes. That moment numbed her to all sense around her. So that when he arrived, slowly, and placed his hand on her shoulders, she jerked away with a shudder. What followed that night was repentance at the time they had spent so near, yet so away from each other. In the cloak of friendship, love had suddenly crossed that invisible balcony and had stepped inside. And in the process, it had given them the light they had always seeked for and the magic that binds everything together-the magic of being one.
I pledged I would be regular with my blog but life pulls out urgencies from its bags and by the time I switch off my lights, the blog becomes only a part of the "to do list". So, I better pull up my socks and at least finish up the promised write up on IIMC. Yeah, I am at IIMC-One of the 6 (or is it 5) IIMs in India-I am a part of the 250 or so crowd who would be my batchmates for the next two years or so. Its been a safe fortnight and my first impressions have already withered away. As I wrote about Cal, IIMC is not a complete inside-out of the city (as probably IITK was to Kanpur) and most of the campus is a strong reflection of what the city offers in terms of infra, people, facilities...The campus is naturally endowed with lakes, grass and birds. I think apart from the fact that the birds' appetities could actually shower you with droppings from the top (when perched on trees i.e.), the nature is in quite an easy synchronicity with the humans around. Commercialization is so sparse that one could actually take a miss at it altogether. Apart from the faculty houses on the far side, 6-7 small buildings make up the campus. This seems sparse to me, probably because the last campus I saw was a concrete jungle with sparse natural beauty around. The lakes are quite a treat to the eye especially in the mornings and late evenings. At sunrise, when the rising sun is mirrored in the lake and the expanding vistas of the sunrays are refracted from the water body, it somehow gives me the inspiration to get up and start another day of classes and the rest of the rigor. Coming to classes, all said and done, the faculty more than compensates for the missing infra and facilities within the campus. The heavy Bengali accent does pose a big culture divide though. My professor keeps on repeating "shapes in a duck" around 10 times before it strikes me that he is actually talking about "ships in a dock". Huh...all that is given I guess. And I am pretty animated to see how culture still remains preseved in foils and wraps at Cal and probably IIMC. Culture, nostalgia, pride is what binds people together. I saw that back at college too. When the culture started crumbling at college and when traditions were being given up for the sake of a more "acad focussed system", we could see the fallouts in a badly shaped student body. I would give credit to IIMC for being able to preserve that...a culture, a tradition, a thread that runs parallely across a campus that becomes a mini society in itself. Society brings me to talk about people. I would reserve my judgement for now I guess, coz I havent seen many new people. The only acquaintances I have made have been with individuals whom I have known in one way or the other. Would soon write a blog about "IIMC: people" after I am able to catch a few friends. Things that make me sad about the campus is the absence of a pool. I was counting on relishing the charms of a full fledged pool after two years, after coming to IIMC but I guess I would have to postpone the thought to another couple of years. The hostel rooms are pretty ok except the fact that I have been badly spoilt by the luxuries of a beautiful girls hostel at IITK and it would take some adjusting before I finally begin to accept that whatever I lived in two years back was just a matter of me "BEING LUCKY". Food-ah...thats where my cribbing would start. I dont have much issues with the flavour and the taste coz its actually pretty decent but hygienic food is a rarity at this place. Most of the dishes are laced with oil and the plates are never washed well...so many germs inside my tummy everyday !!! Not much otherwise to report...except that my lappy and music system run really well and its a joy to play it late at night and listen to a coldplay or satriani. I might be again stalled for the next two weeks from any creative meanderings for the simple fact that exams are round the corner and God knows how bad I want to pass here. It would at least save my blog readers from some serious grade cribbings.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Cal, IIMC and life et al-part 1I think its imperative to mention where the hell have I been all this while, though this blog is not a journal entry that accounts for absences. Over this last one month, I have been at home for a while, where the airtel gprs went kaput and i was left sans internet=sans life. Between meeting friends and relatives and understanding the truth that I was unemployed yet again, it was time to go to Cal. Mom and I travelled on the comfy Rajdhani to reach Cal, a city I can claim to visit when I was a toddler and of which, I cant remember a thing. Humid, sweaty, damp...thats how I would describe Cal. Nothing...I repeat nothing makes you feel that you are in a metro except maybe the Vidyasagar Setu, which is imposing by its simplicity and austerity. Driving a car between the steel veins gives one the first feeling of pleasure since entering the city. Contrary to my expectations, Cal is not thronged by BANGLA and BANGALIS. Infact it is quite adjusting to the BIHARIS and UPites that either work as wage earners in the factories on the outskirts or the MARWARIS which form the backbone of the trading community here. Not only are Luchis and aloo poshto the ambrosia for CALites but even the more familar Punjabi Dhaba appears at a turn or two. Commenting on traffic would be tough because vehicles dont run but crawl on CAL roads. From the "oh so busy" and dangerous Delhi roads, CAL seems to be a perfect exile. Mashi, who was driving the car while picking us up from the station, had quite a tough time hurling abuses at the numerous rickshwas, cycles and the infrequent cars that haunted the road. Mashi's house is quite comfortably situated at Bhawanipur, close to one of the two multiplexes that provide cinematic relief to the denizens of CAL. After the mandatory rest and the butter-dripping paranthas at home, we crawled out to the NEW MARKET and the likes for a wee bit of shopping. CAL is humidity at its worst and beats Bombay hands down. The humidity also tires the bones much faster and walking is not my favorite things any more here. This reminds me of the METRO which is quite well operated though I cant still get over with the Delhi frame of reference, compared to which, CAL pales into oblivion. At the NEW MARKET, the shops were full of all those things girls would give their hearts out for. The embroidered salwar kameez, the broacaded shoes and the string purses..I couldnt help but get enchanted. Mashi and mom (they make perfect company, both hate spending money) had to literally pull me away from a kameez which genuinely besotted me. From the top floor of the house at Bhawanipur, CAL does not seem very differnt from Kanpur. Full of lanes and bylanes, houses that look like an ancient grandfather and no flicker of planning visible in the city...it reminds me strikingly of the city where my heart rests. It is different from Delhi in more ways than one. Maybe I will write another blog on that sometime later. On the day before I had to leave for the hostel, we went for the mandatory KALI BADI visit. Sticky like the rest of the city and dirty to the core, the temple courtyard looks like a picture of years of neglect. There is a special entry bypassing the looong line of devotees, which one can gain access to by a mere payment of 50 bucks. I would have happily paid the sum to save some of my sweat in the process but Mashi prevailed and we crawled through the serpentine line to finally get to see Goddess Kali. Maa gave me a 50 bucks note to keep on Kali's hands. I remember keeping it on her silver moulded fingers, but i think in less than a second, some pujaari had already snatched it away from the goddess, for "God's work" he says. I personally avoid such visits to thronged temples but there's scracely a thing I refuse mom and this had not been the first time. IIMC is yet another chapter but then this would become too big an entry for the blog. Lets reserve it for the next part that would follow after this...maybe I would write it tomorrow night...theres a test tomorrow and I need to go off to bed real soon to have the energy to write the test.