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.
