The Owl

"What a pathetic place!" I muttered to myself angrily with my cell moving everywhere frantically in a series of unsuccessful attempts of receiving network.

I had already expected this. There wouldn't be Vodafone network here. I was still looking for a silver lining. It was frustrating. Every now and then his worried and anguished face would come in my mind and I shuddered. I looked around helplessly.

It was my beautiful village in the rainy season. Moss covered the stone walls. Grass and wild plants sprouted wherever they found chance. Ground was full of red sticky mud. Water dripped from the mango and coconut trees. Nothing could distract my mind though. I had reached there about seven hours ago and I had not been able to contact him. I had messaged him an hour ago before entering my village and then he was asleep. I knew when he'd wake up he would realize he had slept suddenly while typing a message. I could see him helpless and edgy. I had counted on a chance when mom or dad would want to call home for my younger sister who stayed alone at Mumbai as she had her exams coming and then I could somehow intimate him.

Would I tell her? What would she think? I pondered.

But I realized I didn't care anymore. All I wanted was to tell him I was safe and alright.

I paced up and down in the verandah in the twilight, totally helpless and on the verge of tears.

To my utter relief, dad called me inside and gave me a SIM card of a guy from neighborhood.

I looked at my savior, that SIM card like a man dying with thirst would look at an oasis in the dessert.

'Oh I don't think we'd get network inside house, let me go outside!' I said hurriedly and ran outside nearly bumping into a coconut tree. I knew what to do now.

I dialed his number and the network was so pathetic the phone got disconnected. Within five seconds I got his call. Apparently he was sitting with his cell in his hand all the time waiting for one chance to get my call.

'Hello..' his voice shook. He was overwhelmed.

Hello!' my voice chocked a little as I yearned to see him. I felt so close to him.

'Listen, this is my number. Don't call me here. It is not mine. I just called you to tell you I am fine. Please don't worry.' I said it all in a jiffy.

'Oh sure, I had been waiting!!' he was slightly breathless although he hadn't talked much.

'I love you.' I said in a whisper looking around if anyone was eavesdropping.

'Ohh I love you too!'

And I could imagine his face, his expressions.

The distance of around 400 kilometers felt so cruel.

'Gotta hang up.' I said in a small voice.

'Yeah… Take care.'

'You too…'

After we hung up I realized we had no means of contact now. I did not know when to call him next and how. He was more helpless than I was because he couldn't call on that number.

I called my sister.

'Listen - we reached. See, this is his number,' I gave her his number, 'whenever I'd call you, just make sure you text him and tell him I am doing fine. And yes, keep mum about all this.' I warned at last.

I had expected a lot of questions and confusion. But she was being wise. I knew I was spilling the beans to her but I did not care anymore.

I hung up.

The next morning I got a temporary card from a guy from our village. He hadn't used it for a while and it had no balance. The shop was far away from my place and it poured all the day making it nearly impossible to get out far from the house. Moreover the network was so pathetic that it didn't catch inside the home. It was like you should know you are going to get a call now and stay outside. Again I could not call him.

I asked for a mobile with some balance to call home, again from the neighborhood guy. I didn't want any suspicion; I knew I couldn't get many chances.

I called my sister from that cell. 'You know what to do.' I said and she said 'yes' understandingly.

Not more than one minute after we hung up, he called.

'Oh my God!' I said after I picked up.

'Oh your sister is such an angel! I am giving her a box of her favorite Mars once you come back from there you see!'

'Did she understand what’s cooking??'

'Hahhahaha!' He laughed, 'Obviously!!! You should have seen how I replied when she texted me your number. So many 'thank you's! She isn't that stupid.'

'Hmm… I don't think there is a reason to worry, she won't squeal.'

I felt a rush of gratitude towards her.

From that day, we found a way to talk. I would find a quiet place from where I'd not attract anyone's attention and wait for his call.

Once I stayed out in the morning and I got my sister's call. We talked casually and after we hung up I realized I forgot to tell her to inform him I was outside and within range.

I stood there extremely sad.

The next minute my cell flashed with his number.

'Oh my! You called just in time! What a coincidence!'

He laughed, 'It's not a coincidence darling! Your sister messaged me 'Taai has got range right now. Call her.' I called you right away!'

'Gosh I don't know how to thank her!' I exclaimed. We talked for about an hour until the network vanished again only to take our conversation to an abrupt end.

She called me in the evening.

'You guys have made me your owl!' she said in mock anger.

'What?'

'The owl! As in Harry Potter movies! Messenger!'

'Awww thank you so much, thank you, thank u, thank you so much!' my gratitude was flowing.

'Both of you are crazy. I'd show you his messages. He says thank you so many times I lose all my mobile balance in saying 'welcome' and 'it's ok' to him!'

I giggled.

I returned from there in a few days. I saw her from a distance when she was approaching me to lift my luggage.

She smiled meaningfully. I raised my eyebrows at her and hushed her up.

I smacked her at the back of her head and she hit me back. I hit her again and she whined at mom and dad. We fought a lot. But it was different this time. The incident had brought us together. Now we shared a secret, a bond of love and gratitude.

Well we did shower her with chocolates for the next few weeks.

The Rain I Would Never Forget - 1

Sitting in the cubicle was like disconnecting with the outside world. I did not know what was going on outside. All I could hear was the noise of the keys being struck. My brain was stale with all the boring code I was writing. I stretched in the chair and gave out a big yawn. My chair whirled a little and through the glass windows with the curtains drawn off I saw it was raining and my heart leapt.

I loved rain. Rain here was calmer but whimsical, unlike the rain there... where I belonged. And where she belonged as well. I smiled at her thought.

I locked my laptop and went downstairs. To my surprise, people were already standing at the stairs at the entrance watching the rain and sipping the hot tea and coffee. It was raining cats and dogs. It never seemed to cease. Hills looked hazy through dense rain and air had unmistakably lovely fragrance of wet soil. Neatly trimmed plants looked freshly bathed. Grass a few paces away moved with rain as if it had shivers. Water droplets on beautiful light pink flowers sparkled.

I spotted Bhushan and Nikhil at the other corner and went over to them. There was a totally different mood in office today. Everyone looked cheerful and seemed to have forgotten they had work. ‘Where are they?’ Nikhil asked. I tiptoed and ran my eyes over the crowd. I wished to see her.

And there they came. Priya and Deepa chirping with she on their side. She looked grumpy and made a face as she saw outside. They made a beeline to our side.

‘Looks awesome doesn’t it?’ I asked her and winked at Priya.

I knew she hated rain. She had told me. She said she felt miserable whenever it rained.

She stood pressed against the wall with her arms folded across her chest. ‘Ewww!!’ she said as she observed. I laughed at her. She made a face. ‘Ughhh I hate it!’ she said.

That was her typical sentence. I loved the way she said it.

Well I loved many more things about her. In fact, everything about her.

‘Tea?’ Bhushan suggested. Rain has subsided a little and it was only a light drizzle now.

‘I hate the tea here. Tapri? What say?’ I asked looking at all of them.

‘Umm…’ she looked apprehensive and looked out.

‘Oh it isn’t raining that much now. Don’t worry you wouldn’t get wet.’ I assured. I wanted her to come.

‘Okay,’ she agreed and we set off.

Half way into it and rain had a whim again. It started dancing like a haughty kid throwing tantrums.

‘Ughhhhh! Knew this would happen! Let’s go back!’ she complained.

‘Oh it’s fun!’

But as we stood there in the rain, all we guys, with our hands spread drinking fresh drops. Like kids. The girls ran away under a shelter.

I glanced at her and she was staring at me with raised eyebrows. Her already big eyes bulged and I knew the reason. She had forbidden me to get wet in the rain.

‘You have to sit in the air-conditioned cubicle afterwards! You are going to catch cold. Well you already have.’ She had sternly said to me a day before at the breakfast when I had said I wanted to get wet in the rain.

‘Shut up!’ she said, opening her umbrella. ‘Where is your umbrella?’ she asked me.

‘Umm... I forgot it at my room.’ I admitted guiltily.

She looked at me suspiciously and heaved a deep sigh. ‘Come on in! You are not getting wet. You said you had fever yesterday.’

I made a face like a child whose ice cream had been snatched. But I liked when she scolded me. I did not know why. Or probably I did. I smiled looking down, when she wasn’t looking at me.

I came out of reverie and went under the shelter where they were standing laughing at us acting like kids and clicking photos. She looked mollified and smug when I came under the shelter. I looked at her closely. She was laughing at Bhushan and Nikhil who were dancing in rain now. Apparently she had no problem if they got wet in the rain.

I could not stop smiling.

I looked at her. She looked at me questioningly. I shook my head, still smiling. She looked at me as though I had gone mad and burst into a smile and then looked away.

I could not take my eyes off her. Her hair was wet and had water drops caught into the strands. Sleeves of her kurta were wet too. She had wrapped her arms as she shivered. Her teeth clattered.

She looked even more beautiful than flowers that sparkled, or trees that looked fresh green, or green hills, or sun who was trying to peep from black clouds by now.

I stared at her madly and wished she were mine. I wished she could see it into my eyes. And the next second I wished she couldn’t. And as we walked back, a water drop felt strangely warm on my cheek...


- Based on a true story :P

Bhel

Mumbai: At 10.30 in the night I got into an Ambernath local from Sion.
Terribly tired due to a long journey from Pune, I found heaven in a corner seat and started to look around. There were several young girls in fashionable dresses chattering continuously, women raising the admonishing finger at their children trying to misbehave by keeping their feet on seats, women that picked methi or peeled mutter probably making use of all the free time available preparing for the next day, women donning dark red lipstick and flashy clothes with a strange air around them which prevented anyone from sitting beside them, beggars who made pitiful faces at the ladies who acted as if they were invisible.

My eyes fell on a woman sitting a little far. She had used dark purple eyeliner on her eyes. Well I wondered if it was done with an eyeliner brush because it looked like she had used a paintbrush. It was a thick strap of blue paint. She looked scary and funny at the same time and totally out of place.

And then I spotted her. And my mind went 2 years back.

Back then we used to rush for the Dadar-Kalyan train for the journey back from college to home. And apart from getting comfortable seats and no rush, the reason had been the bhel.
She used to get into the train at Dadar and in a strange piercing
voice she used to shout 'bhel!!!'. Maybe it was the typical time of the day when everyone felt hungry or maybe she was too good at making it, several women would
rummage for the purses and shouts orders from different corners from the compartments.
And then her hands would start working like machine. In her hand she
carried a big tokri, which had all the ingredients. She would quickly make a paper-cone and throw some kurmura with an air of careless finesse, add some finely cut tomato, onions and raw mango and a bit of a mysterious masala she carried in an old metal container. She would then toss the mixture making some kurmura fly in all the directions.

'Come on!', someone in our group would nudge me, 'Let's get it. Looks yummy!!'
Even after seeing her old torn saree, hands smeared in the chutney and masala and the mysterious metal container I would finally give in once the flavor of the raw mango wafted around me.
'Gila or Sukha?' She would confirm the order. Then move around to
collect the money.
'Give it tomorrow. It is okay girl!' she would say impatiently to a
girl who would rummage for a rupee or two.

Suddenly the memories filled up in my mind like the monsoon clouds covering the sky. Back then there was an elderly woman who used to sell vegetables in train. Well she always grabbed attention because as she sold the vegetables, she would sing a song which described the recipe of curries made from it. And there were women who sold stuff from hairpins to clothes, purses to TV-fridge covers, nail-polishes, lipsticks.
The chics with branded clothes made faces at the cheap makeup items yet several others took the containers from those women and checked the shades on their nails. While the nail-polish container would be with the women in one corner of the compartment, the saleswomen would go to the other corner with the lipstick containers or the hangers with hair-clips. I always wondered how the small girls among them balanced those containers on their head, without any support and get in and out of the trains.

My mind came back as the familiar smell of mango wafted around me. I looked at her hands smeared in masala and chutney and remembered how the people in our office cafe wore head-gears and hand-gloves before serving.

A small smile spread across my face and I shouted my order.
She came back with the paper cone.
'I used to have your bhel when I was in college.' I smiled at her.
'Oh!' her face lit up, the machine-like mask on her face momentarily melted. 'Where do you work now?'
'Pune.' I informed her, 'I return on weekends.' I could feel the curious movement by the people beside me, clearly interested as I conversed with a bhel vendor.

I put some coins in her hand before I realized it has been two years after I bought bhel from her.
It couldn't be 7 rs now. I asked, 'How much?'
'10 rs', she said.
I smiled, 'It used to be 7 rs.'
'Jyada diya hai aapko,' she tried to justify the price with a grin.
I nodded giving her 3 more rupees.