Tough Job

She hurried out of kitchen only to stumble over a wet towel thrown carelessly on the floor. She hissed under her breath angrily and wiping her eyebrows with her sleeves, started cleaning up the hall. She glanced at the clock- 3 in the afternoon. She hadn't had lunch yet, a cup of coffee she had made for herself lay ignored on the table. She sighed sadly and slumped into a chair eyeing the clothes that needed folding, the books that needed to be stacked on shelves.

Her own reflection stared back at her from a mirror on a wardrobe. She had aged so quickly, she thought. She pushed back a strand of grey hair but the prominent web of wrinkles on her face couldn't be hidden. She looked at her palms, the skin was shriveled and pale. She felt like an old woman. Old, grumpy and bitter.

Her life was as plain and mundane as the pages of Economic Times spread on the sofa. All day she folded clothes, cooked, did the dishes and flipped through the TV channels while waiting for her husband and son to return home.

They had their own lives. Their laptops, their work, studies, phone calls... Busy lives with no place for her, except when they needed something done by her. She knew they were busier than she was but a smile or a hug could have made her day. It would just take a couple of seconds, she thought.

A bundle of brushes, a few old bottles of dried colors and the paintings she had made several years back lied at the back of the shelf hidden behind the pile of thick books her husband read on weekends and her son's trophies. Her place in the house was so tiny, she thought. The back of the shelf. The volume of one cubic foot. Almost non-existent.

She burst into tears. Her bitter emotions were flowing uncontrollably today. What was she living for! She didn't have a career like her husband had nor did she have friends like her son had. While her husband brought home the wads of notes every month and her son proudly talked about his achievements in college, all she did was to cook for them and flutter around them handing them their handkerchiefs they kept forgetting while leaving home.

"Mom?" he called out from the door that just opened. Windswept hair, tired face and that same huge forehead like her own...

She hurriedly wiped her tears and forced a smile.

"You made sheera!??" he exclaimed, delighted.

She nodded.

"Awesome!" he laughed, "You are the best, mom!" He put her arms around her.

It was then she realized, where her treasure lied. In the moment when she kissed his huge forehead for the first time she held him in her hands, her life wasn't her own anymore. In the moment when she wasn't just an ordinary woman, the moment she became a mother...

Hers was a 24x7 job. With no holiday. Ever. Plus she never got paid. Still, without her those four walls weren't a home. Without her everything would just crumble down.

She ruffled his hair and tiptoed to kiss his forehead. He had grown so much, already standing tall in front of her.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"You won't understand." she said hoarsely, smiling.

- Inspired by a mother I had a fortune to meet through someone else's eyes...

Haunted

She freezes on the spot with fear. She can't move a muscle. The world seems to whirl around slowly. She shivers slightly when sweat drops erupt at the back of her nape. Her body goes icy as if someone has doused cold water on her. Whatever strength she has drains off in a moment and she can taste the bile that has risen up her throat. That's it. She would faint now or throw up, she thinks. She grips the railing along the road. Ice cold again, metallic.

She wants to run away from that girl. The girl that only she can see- grinning broadly, lost in her phone, near that same bus stand where she had stood somewhere in the past, at happier times. Happier? God no, she was the happiest back then. The ghost of that girl lurks there, quite oblivious to her.

If she doesn't run now, that ghost of the happy girl would spot her. She does not know what would happen then.
Confrontation?
Accusation?
Insinuation?

She closes her eyes tight shut.

Run! A distant voice urges her and she lifts her feet with a great difficulty.

The Gulmohor tree. Memories. Bittersweet. Again the happy girl standing there, looking far away, dressed carefully at her best, probably waiting for someone, a foot tapping on the ground covered in red petals, in a casual rhythmic way, tiptoing inbetween, biting her nails playfully, impatiently, smiling shyly to herself. The smile that spreads on the entire face, not just lips, the smile that lights up her eyes...

She can't bear the sight. She averts her eyes and hurries ahead.

She isn't angry. Not at all. Not worried. Definitely not. She is just scared. The girl follows her everywhere and she feels like a fugitive- hiding and running away from her. How would she know which places are haunted by the girl? It's like landmines, she keeps stepping on one every now and then unknowingly.

A bell rings. A temple. The last resort, the ultimate sanctuary of every living being... Marble walls, beautiful idol... A burning lamp... A soothing smell of incense sticks...

Should she? She hasn't been there for so long. She starts climbing the marble stairs.

No. No! The same girl- praying this time, eyes closed, serene smile, wishing for something that she exactly knows of,  remembers.

Tired, she slumps on the stairs. She never gets inside. What if she sees that same face in place of the God as that girl sees? What if she secretly wishes for the same thing that girl does? What if she never has a courage to be as content as the girl is?

She has trapped herself. Like a spider that spends years in weaving a beautiful web and then ends up trapped in the same.

Where could you run when even your sanctuary doesn't calm you down anymore? Besides, one cannot run away from oneself.

Differences

Prince's musings
---------------------
She was wonderful, totally weird but her weirdness always spread a smile on my face. She was a Wildflower. Her unabashed laugh sounded like a song of a playful flow of a stream. I was a Prince- shy and confined. I had fallen for her audacious craziness, her mischievous grin and her incessant blabber.

She taught me to eat on streets, something a royalty would scorn at. I forwent my royal carriage for her and with her I travelled through my wild realm I never knew existed. I walked long tiring roads with her till the pebbles and stones tore my invaluable footwear. She told me the tales I had never heard before, of flowers and fairies, of Kings and knights, of Gods and Demons and of lovers. She sang in her language I did not understand; it did not matter- she made the songs beautiful with the honesty in her beady eyes. No-one had taught her to sing. I teased her for her singsongy tone and I sang to her in my cultured refined voice just like I had been trained in my palace. I travelled in narrow lanes and unrestrained forests. She showed me beautiful flowers and the dew on their petals. She taught me laugh in a manner that could be scoffed as uncivil in the palace I came from.

With her, I was no Prince. With her, I felt free and passionate. She taught me to open my eyes and look at the world. She taught me to kiss gently. She taught me a thing or two about sadness.

Till she came, I had just been breathing. With her I lived.

I had to leave one day. I realised Wildflowers cannot decorate the palaces.

-----------------------------------------
Wildflower's musings
----------------------
He was regal, majestic and reserved. I was a wild indisciplined flower. He smiled as if he measured the inches his smile spread on his lips.

I fell for his valour and pride, his polished manners and meaningful talks. With him, I knew life is to live more than to survive. With him I had rich food and fine wine. He sang to me in his lovely trained voice that made me close my eyes and imagine dancing with him in a huge ballroom. I travelled in his royal carriage with fluffy pillows full of feathers and pristine sheets that soothed the pain that came from the thorns prickling my feet. He made me blush. With him, I knew tenderness and forgot pain.

He introduced me to relief and comforts, to faith and love. He taught me to pamper myself like the princesses do. He taught me the meaning in the silence.

With him I was no Wildflower, I was a royalty. He taught me to close my eyes and look into my own soul. He taught me to care. He taught me a thing or two about happiness.

Till he came, I had just been an insomniac. In his secure arms I found deep sleep and a lot of dreams.

He left one day. I realised Wildflowers cannot blossom in palaces.

A Penny

It's too hot around, maybe. She squirms in her bed, gets up cursing the October heat and fans herself with her hand, breathing heavily. She grabs the remote control of her AC and reduces the temperature. No, still not comfortable. She paces up and down in her room, wiping the sweat-beads off her forehead and sits at the edge of the bed, gulping down a glass of cold water. A little better now- she crawls back in her sheets. No, something pricks her back. She gropes the sheets and mattress, there is nothing that could prick. Mosquitoes maybe, she thinks.. She glances at the wall only to find the mosquito repellent plugged in to a socket. She clutches her head helplessly. She pulls a book towards her but she can't make a sense out of what she reads. Time is moving so slow, she thinks, so slow that she can hear every second that the clock is ticking away.

She glances at her phone, only to put it away.

What is it then, she asks herself annoyed.

Music? No, not a good idea at night. She hates music. It makes her vulnerable.

Maybe she should count numbers. Aaah no! Last night she counted till a thousand before she dropped the idea.

Talk to someone? To whom? There is no-one, she thinks, scrolling the contacts list in her phone up and down.

Breathless. Disturbed. Shaken. Restless. Frustrated.

She opens the locker in her steel cupboard and a chest of drawers and takes out several bundles of notes, a pocket full of coins and her gold jewellery and places on her bed. The smell of the pristine stiff currency notes, sick-sweet - tickles her nose in an almost unpleasant way. The metal of the coins is creepily cold against her sweaty skin. She traces her fingers on the gold.

All of it is mine. All this money and gold, she thinks. She doesn't feel as happy as she thought she would be. She can't smile. The hole in her heart is as empty as it was before, no matter what amount of money she has used to fill it. She counts how much money she would earn this year and the next and the year after that. Still so less, not enough, this is not enough to be able to forgive myself for the things I let people say, for the insults I endured because I didn't have money once, she cries pulling at her hair in frustration.

'Aren't you overrating money?' The Small Voice Inside Her Head asks her.

"No I am not!" she hisses angrily, "Without money, in this world you cannot even dream big. The mistake was that I always underrated it."

She spends the entire night counting money, recounting it. Every time she counts, she feels a penny is always less. One last penny that she thinks might satisfy her thirst. Always short of one penny she was, no matter how many she earned.

A Grown-up Child

Fine grains of sand tickle her feet. Sun shines radiantly in the sky and rays of light sneak through green tree tops. She walks towards a makeshift wooden bench in the shade of a Champa tree. The tree is short, bears long green leaves but it is now leafless. White flowers blossom in bunches on its knobbly branches. A few white flowers have covered the ground as well. She steps forward carefully because she doesn't want to tread on any of those delicate white flowers. For a moment she remembers the time when she was a kid, how she used to fold the petals of a flower backwards, turn it into a flowery ring and dance around showing it to the people around her.

She isn't a child anymore though, she muses. She sits on the bench alone and then lies on her back looking at the patches of the sky visible through the bunches of white flowers above. With a light breeze, two-three more flowers land on the ground to join the flowers that are withering now, their edges turning brown.

She smiles to herself, looks around. When she is sure no-one is looking at her, she stands on the bench and tiptoes. She extends her arm to touch those beautiful flowers on a branch her hand reaches. Then she picks up a fresh flower from the ground.

She smells the flower to her heart's content, folds its petals backwards with utmost concentration and sticks them in its stem. She fastens it on one of her fingers and stares at it with a faint self-complacent smile.

She is still the same child, even after twenty years.

Endless Winter - 7

THE BERRY

He looked out in the sky from a huge window of his Palace. His eyes searched the distant Forest where his Wildflower lived, but he could only see the green tops of the tall trees and the blue river that curved gracefully. His only relief... Only comfort came from knowing they were under the same sky at least. Each time he thought about her, he sighed painfully.

There was a sudden movement behind him and before he knew anything, he was pushed against the wall with a silver knife at his throat.

"Do not shout." a cold voice, strangely familiar- spoke to him.

He stayed patient and still, looking at the frail fingers that held the knife.

"Wildflower!" he whispered in a mild surprise.

She removed the hood that covered her face and stood face to face. She looked really frail. Her eyes were cold and indifferent devoid of the usual mischief, the lines on her gaunt face made her look sickly, her skin was pale and sallow with her collarbone more prominent than ever. With a morbid look on her face, she gritted her teeth.

"You remember."

Remember! There wasn't a moment when he did not think of her.

"I have come to kill you." she said brandishing the knife.

He smirked.
"I can see that. What do you wait for?"

"Contemplating the most painful death I should give you..." she said, twisting her face in rage.
"You can't kill me."
"I can."
"You won't."
"I will."

She was inches away from him. Her breath felt warm on his face. The edge of her knife brushed lightly against the skin at his throat. He watched her face contort in anguish.

"Someone who wishes to kill the Prince does not spill the beans on his assassination conspiracy." He whispered to her, closing his fist around hers that held the knife.

An expression of shock and sudden realisation flitted across her face. She closed her eyes at his touch.

"How did you know I informed that carpenter spy of yours!"

"Do you expect me to not recognise your handwriting?"

Her hand that held the knife dropped automatically by her side.

With a scoffing smile, she said, "Such a shame. A prince revealing his spies' identities to some girl he loved. Such an irresponsible behaviour. I could destroy you with all your secrets you told me!"

"I trusted you," he said quietly, "I trust you. I wasn't wrong. My most loyal spy came with your letter informing about the conspiracy of my assassination and expressing the suspicion about the Treasurer. Your letter, Wildflower! Somehow I knew who would be sent for killing me. He is arrested, the Treasurer along with two of his accomplices. You think it would have been so easy for you to enter a Prince's Palace? You could come because I wanted you to."

She sighed, "When he came to me, I knew he was someone important from the Palace- the way he assured me an easy entry in the Palace. When he mentioned his son, I remembered the night when you had sentenced him to death and came to me heartbroken-" She pursed her lips at the reference of that night's memory.

She was inches away from him, her hands were in his, she seemed totally unaware of that.

"So much risk, Wildflower! Just to be able to come here in the Palace. Just to see me..." he murmured in a low voice, touching the loose strands of her hair that played on the breeze.

"I did not come to see you. I came to kill you." she said feebly.

He only smiled at her, " You have never been a good liar, Wildflower!"

"So this is your Palace you boast about?! People who thirst for each-other's blood!" she simpered, "I would think these rubies on these draperies are actually the drops of blood."

"That's what I meant by a Prince's life not being easy."

" Hypocrite!" she said with a cold contemptuous laughter that did not suit her.

Her hatred hurt.

"Give me a beautiful death for all the mistakes I made." he said with his lips near her ears, pulling her towards him by her waist, touching her forehead with his own... The indifferent cold mask on her face melted away with the warm tears that trickled down her cheeks, just as she held his face in her trembling palms... Her touch after so many months... The same tender touch that transformed him into a human from a prince... As irresistible as ever.

A few secret moments in the Forest were lived again... Even the cold breeze that sneaked through the window couldn't cool their yearning bodies... The passion before the separation... The life just before the death... The Spring before the winter... The peaceful oblivion before snapping back to the brutal reality...

"I am still going to kill you." she said with her arms wrapped around his neck, with an agonized look on her face.

"You lost the knife." He smiled, tracing her jawline affectionately with his thumb and caressing her neck with his palms.

"Out beyond the ideas
of wrongdoings and rightdoings,
there is a field.

I will meet you there...

When the soul lies down in that soil,
The world is
too full to talk about..."

She recited an old poem. A poem of a poet from the foreign land far from where they lived.

She smiled sadly and opened her palm out for him. A tiny green berry... He immediately recognised it.

The poison. The deadly poison from the Forest.

He screamed her name and held her arms but too late... Her lifeless body was all he had in his arms.

Death wasn't worse than living in the world where she did not exist.

THE END

Endless Winter - 6

INFALLIBLE WEAPON

"Wildflower, you must understand Prince's situation as well." One of the trees around her tried to reason with her.

One fierce look from her and the Tree fell silent.

"A person like him deserves to die. A coward. A hypocrite." she spat with her face screwed in disgust and contempt.

"What are you saying..." the Tree said in a small voice.

"I say it right. I wish I could go to the Palace and slash his throat." she said scathingly.

I had been observing for several weeks. All she ever talked about was killing him. Hatred dripped from every word she said. Every time I heard her venomous words, hope erupted in my mind like a snake drawing its hood.

I thought the first thing Prince would do after returning from the battle would be to go to this girl in the Forest. When the Prince did not go to the Forest for weeks, it did not really surprise me. I knew it all along that it was nothing but a fling. A Royalty could easily do such things and get away with them. They were the law-makers. They defined the right and the wrong. They considered themselves Gods of Justice. Sanctimonious hypocrites!

"Wildflower." I called her name at the riverbank, out of the earshot of the Trees.

"Who are you, Gentleman!"
Her impertinent tone did not match the respectful title she referred me with.

I extricated the crumpled and torn pieces of letters and a thimble from my pocket and put them in front of her.

She flinched a little but stared at me defiantly.

"These are yours." I said quietly.

"They aren't." she said, picking them up in her hands. Then she tossed everything in the river without any second thought, "It's nothing but rich hollow words. Bullshit!"

"The Prince abandoned you, didn't he?" I said in a slightly mocking tone.

A pulse on her forehead throbbed ominously and her upper lip curled with disdain.

"A royalty does it all the time. Women like you are the things for recreational purpose for them. Their thrill for some time." I said.

"Who are you and what do you want? You don't seem to belong here in the Forest." she said quietly.

"I don't; but you don't need to know who I am. Let's talk business."

"What business?" she asked suspiciously.

I smiled and lowered my voice, "I know you want to kill him."

She looked at me in bewilderment and shock.

"I know. I have heard you. I have been watching you." I whispered under my breath.

She stayed speechless for a few moments and then gave me a long curious look before speaking finally.

"How can you help? I had been planning to go to the Palace soon anyway." She said raising her eyebrows.

I laughed.
"All by yourself, girl? You think you will be entertained? You won't stand a chance!"

She considered for a moment and she seemed to understand it would be impossible for her to even enter the Palace without an aid.

"Then?" she asked narrowing her eyes.

"I can make your entry easy. I happen to know the Palace very well, plus I have two accomplices."

She looked at me closely, buried in thought.

"Why me?"

I sighed, "No other weapon is as sharp as the vengeance. You seem fierce and brave. You look frail but you are a nimble Forest-Dweller. Plus you deserve justice."

Also, if at all you get killed in the process, nothing would trace back to me, I thought, some wild girl the Prince ditched trying to murder him would be a totally convincing story in such a case.

She paused for a long moment, taking in my plan.

"What's in it for you?" she asked finally, staring at me and scoffing, "Wealth, is it? Or is it the higher position you seek? Like all the other people in the world."

Her sarcastic words stung a bit. Wealth and position, I did not desire any of it.

"The same what you seek- vengeance." I muttered.

"For whom?"

"My son." The memory of my son brought angry tears that stung my eyes.

An understanding seemed to dawn on her face. Everybody who hates connects with the feeling of vengeance.

"He cheated me. He will have to pay." she said with her head high, looking at the distant minaret of the Palace, "Guide me."

A content smile spread on my lips.

My infallible weapon was at my disposal.

-- To be Continued...

Endless Winter - 5

ROYAL SORROWS

I pulled the reins of my horse absent mindedly. That girl's- Wildflower's shrieks of laughter still rang in my ears. That mirthless laugh could make any stone melt. I was just a Messenger, what words could I say to console her? There were no tears to wipe and even if they were, I don't think I would have done anything...

For three years I had been a bridge between those two loving souls. I was one of the oldest and the most trusted men of the Prince and hence his obvious choice to carry his letters to his lady love and bring back hers. The noticeable restlessness and longing in their eyes every time I brought a message, the beating of their hearts almost tangible, the eager smile they tried to hide in vain... That would just make me pray to my Gods to unite the souls as soon as possible.

Duty. Conveying the message was my duty. Conveying only what had been written, the unwritten things lay in a secret emotional corner of my heart. They were not supposed to be revealed.

With heavy heart I made a beeline to the Prince's Castle as ordered.

The castle was semi-dark, the pale twilight bathing it in unusual gloom. A silver plate laden with the delicacies from the Royal kitchen was untouched. The Prince was still in his morning clothes, pacing restlessly with his hands at the back. His proud head was bent tonight, sans his crown that lay abandoned in a corner, his handsome face was hidden in the creepy light of a single lamp that flickered unsteadily.

He heard my footsteps and before I could even follow niceties like bowing before him, he hurried towards me.

"How is she?" he asked eagerly in a slightly shaky voice.

I had no good answer for the question.

"She doesn't seem fine, My Lord." I briefed him.

"Was she..." he asked, suddenly stopped, cleared his throat and continued, "Was she crying a lot?"

All his questions were tough. Given a choice I wouldn't have answered any of them.

"She laughed."
"Laughed?" he asked, bewildered.

"Inconsolable, My Lord. She just laughed uncontrollably." I said quietly, staring at him to read his face.

His face turned darker. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He muttered something incoherently, indistinctly as if he was talking to himself. For a moment I remembered a maniac that wandered everywhere back at my home in the lanes away from the Palace.

He might have forgotten I was still there. He slumped into an armchair helplessly. Slowly he picked up a silk pocket from a wooden box and offered it to me. The coins clinked oddly in the silence.

"Your prize. I am grateful." he said in a defeated voice.

I looked at that thick pocket full of gold. Today's had been the toughest assignment I had ever had. I was drained. The shrieks of laughter at the Forest and the deadly silence in the Palace... I hated my job.

"I do not want prize tonight, My Lord." I said bowing before him respectfully.

"Why! It's yours!" he said weakly.

The silk of his sleeve shone slightly and an amethyst in his ring sent pale violet rays of light on his grave face.

"No, My Lord, " I said with tight jaw, "I have grown old with the woman I love. Today, My Lord, I feel richer than ever."

He turned his gaze up at me and I got a full view of his dimly lit face. Guilt, grief and defeat filled every line of that face.

In forty-five years of my service in the Palace, for the first time I witnessed the teardrops of a Royalty.

- To be Continued...

Endless Winter - 4

THE COLD SPRING

The Wildflower saw the dust rising from a distance and heard the sound of hooves and her heart leapt. The Trees raised their heads to look around. The Royal Messenger sped towards them on a handsome black horse, the same messenger who always brought letters from her Prince. She tiptoed, her eyes in search of the Royal Carriage in vain.

Her Prince must have had sent a message to intimate her to get ready for the Palace. She grinned broadly in excitement and anticipation. If only he had come directly to meet her! She did not want any surprise. One endless season without him! It was too long without seeing him, without his touch...

The Messenger came to a graceful halt near her and getting down from the back of the horse swiftly, he bowed before her. She gave him a smile of recognition; he returned it rather grimly. He drew a letter from his breastpocket, a letter bearing her Prince's seal she immediately recognized. The letter that had his trace, his fragrance. She wanted to open it herself, smell it to her heart's content, move her fingers along the letters he traced with the ink...

She stopped herself from tugging at it with a great difficulty. She was soon to be a Royalty. An ungraceful show of eagerness and impatience wouldn't suit her. She stood stiff and straight faced waiting for him to hand her the letter as usual..

He did not hand the letter to her, instead he cleared his throat and read out loud in a steady tone.

"Dear Wildflower,

I won the battle a few days back and returned victorious to the Palace. I don't know how to tell you this but I cannot come to see you anymore. I cherish the moments spent with you but you must understand that a Prince's life is not easy. I cannot take you to the Palace. I cannot do anything that harms the dignity of the Royal Family. I apologise. I made a mistake.

- Prince"

She couldn't believe him. The words pierced her sharper than the winter she had endured waiting for her Prince did. Maybe she was just dreaming? No, she wasn't. There was a collective intake of breath from the Trees, an awkward rustling of the leaves. Forgetting all her pretense, she snatched the letter from the Messenger's hands; she could recognize her Prince's perfect 'S' the way he typically curved it. It seemed familiar... yet totally unfamiliar.

"Mistake." she whispered. The world spun around her frantically. She could even have stopped breathing. Her vision was blurred, the faint noise around her was coming from some distant, deep well. Her brain buzzed and stung as if attacked by wasps. No, the tears did not come. Some of the Trees tried to cover her with their branches protectively.

Could it be some kind of a jest? No. Prince could never play such a cruel joke. She re-read the letter till every word sunk in her brain.

"It is not true. Tell me it is not true! Has Prince given you this letter? Swear on something! Swear by your Gods." she pleaded the Messenger.

The Messenger hung his head. Then he looked in her eyes sadly.

"My Lady, I have been your messenger for three years. I solemnly swear by the God I have faith in. I do not lie. The Prince sent it himself."

There was a grave silence for a moment.

She burst into a laughter, a laughter that she did not recognize. Terrible laughter. Spine chilling. Unnerving. Cold. Mirthless laughter. Even the Trees shuffled their branches nervously. The Messenger backed off with a humble bow at her, rode his horse and left.

She stared after the Messenger, covered with the dust that the horse's hooves set into the air. For a long time, no-one spoke. The Trees exchanged anxious looks, not knowing how to console someone who isn't crying.

With the surge of fury that burnt into her eyes like a wildfire, she went to the spot where she had hidden the treasure she held dear. A thimble that her Prince had dropped once while teaching her archery, one of the soft feathers from a pillow in the Royal Carriage that felt as delicate as his touch, a multicolored stone that he had retrieved diving in the river for her, a silk thread from his sleeve that had tangled with her hair once while they kissed, his letters with his perfect handwriting, his fragrance worn off them already over the years... She threw them all around laughing hysterically, slapping herself.

"You were right! I was a fool." She told the Trees loudly with an unnatural high pitched laugh.

Why. 'Why' was all she thought day and night. The Prince was her life, but for him- she realized she had been nothing but a spark of a short lived adventure, all along.

Wildflower doesn't cry. Her tears have gone dry behind her eyes. Her wail of agony has died in her throat. She just sleeps a little less than she used to, laughs a little less than she used to, loves a little less than she used to.

Her wait for Prince is over. It's winter that just doesn't end for her.

- To be Continued...

Endless Winter - 3

THE BATTLE

Do the battles ever get over, he pondered. Some of his battles were tough. No gore, no swords dancing in the air, no blood flowing on the ground, no soil strewn with the flesh, no roars of victory and no screams of death... Some battles are silent, perpetual and bound to end up in a defeat no matter how hard you fight.

Because some battles are fought in your own head, against yourself.

He hit his fist on the wall in frustration.

'No Wildflower from Forest shall ever set foot in Palace. We are Royalty, Prince! How could you ever forget that! The flowers in the Forest cannot adorn the Palace walls. This shall never reach your father. End it, Prince.'

The words of his mother- no, the Queen echoed in his ears and then the radiant face of Wildflower stirred before his eyes as the breeze from the Forest sneaking through the window touched his skin. She must have been waiting for him. The year-long battle was over and he had returned triumphant to the Palace. His mother kissed his forehead proudly before he had told her all about the Wildflower and his wish to spend his life with her. He couldn't blame his mother for ordering him to leave Wildflower. The Royalty had more responsibilities to take on, they couldn't just do whatever they wished to do.

He had everything now. Fame, victory, wealth, respect from his subjects... It all was useless, pointless without Wildflower. All he wished for was to be able to run to the Forest and hold her in his arms, smell her wild scent to his heart's content, kiss her hard and tell her he would never leave her, tell her he did not want to be a prince anymore.

Being a prince was not easy.

He sighed deeply, pinching his nose bridge with his eyes closed in frustration. The sun shone pleasantly bright in the sky and the cuckoo in the Royal Garden sang melodiously. The kids of the servants played noisily outside and their mothers scolded them. A couple of soldiers practised archery in the training ground. The Royal Treasurer was hurrying outside the castle in his travelling cloak. Prince's mind dwelled on that old man for a while.

He remembered the night three years ago when he sentenced the young son of that man to death, the youth almost his age. The law the youth had broken- Prince thought, was too harsh but the Prince had to do his own duty, he had to do what his forefathers did. Nothing was above the Royal Law. Nothing was above the dignity of the Palace. Prince had hated being a prince that night, being seated in the High Chair of Justice in the absence of his father, hearing the heart wrenching wails of the youth's father. Like a broken man, that night he had gone to the his only refuge, the only sanctuary where he couldn't hear the weeping of the old man, where he wasn't a prince- in his Wildflower's arms. It was only in her lap where he had had a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

He flinched at the thought of Wildflower. It was strange how she creeped in all his thoughts, sneaked in all his feelings. It all came only to her at the end. Like she was the only real thing in the world.

Those days would never come back, he thought. Whether or not he wanted to be, he couldn't run away from the fact that he was the Prince. He had responsibilities, towards his kingdom. Wildflower was a beautiful road where he had stopped by, but he couldn't stop there forever.

"Summon my Messenger." he ordered his guard, steeling his heart.

He went back inside the castle closing the window tight shut and pulled a piece of parchment and ink in front of him. The toughest battles are often fought within the stone-walls of the Palace.

- To be Continued...

Endless Winter - 2

A NIGHTMARE

I woke up to the usual nightmare. I was soaked in sweat and my heart was beating frantically. I lit the lamp nearby and dropped a silver goblet with my shaking hands.

I got up from my bed. The nightmare still felt vivid.

A lifeless body of my beloved son.

I had everything people dreamt of. A high position in the Court- I was the Royal Treasurer. I had a small castle for myself within the Palace. I slept on a fluffy bed, wore silk clothes. I had everything but my son.

I lost him two years ago. He committed a crime, they said and the Prince sentenced him to death. I wondered if he had done the same had it been someone of a royal lineage.

I pleaded. I wept. The walls of the Palace remained stony and deaf to the cries of an old father just like the people living inside it. Prince was a new hero- the rightful owner of the throne. Righteous and of Principles of steel, just like his forefathers.

I burnt in the fire of vengeance since then. That memory of my son's lifeless body stirred the hive of hatred in my heart. I never had a calm sleep right from that night. My sleep had been marked with only two recurring visions.

A nightmare of my son's death and a dream of Prince's dead body.

Watching the Prince dead was the only aim of my life now. The fire that kept me alive even after my son was taken from me.

Over those two years, I just kept quiet and kept serving in the Palace just so that I wouldn't lose the Prince from my eyesight. I planned, I conspired, I kept an eye on him. Two attempts of assassinations. Both failed miserably. When the Prince left for the Battle of the West in last spring, I wished he lost his life there.

Maybe his fortune was too strong or maybe the prayers protected him, helped him evade the death every time it sneaked towards him. The prayers of his mother and some Forest-girl who loved him.

He returned victorious from the Battle in the West. The King broke the news proudly in the Court that day. Everyone cheered. Prince would return in twenty days. The wheels of my thoughts revolved fast.

With two attempts failed now, I had to be careful. Fortunately they weren't too cautious because I could cover up those two incidents without attracting undesired attention. I couldn't afford to get arrested. I did not really fear the death but I did not want to die without avenging my son, without seeing the Royal Family weep over their Prince, without seeing the fear of death in Prince's eyes.

All I needed was a right opportunity and an infallible weapon.

-- To be Continued...

Endless Winter - 1

PROMISES

"Wait for me till next spring..." the Prince had said before kissing her goodbye. He had tears in his eyes.

"You have your duties. I will wait." the Wildflower had said serenely, grabbing his shoulders and eyeing him proudly.

The Prince had only walked two paces before coming back rushing towards his Wildflower again. The dam of the bravado that had restrained their tears had broken finally and in the solace of the wild Forest, both the souls had cried hugging each other with all the passion they had in their hearts.

For those stolen moments, they weren't a Prince or a Wildflower... They were one. The world did not exist; only love did. That was more than enough. They could have spent all their life that way in that beautiful oblivion.

The Prince had to leave though, for the greater good, with the promise to come back for his Wildflower, the next spring. Then he would take her to his Palace. His Palace was no place for any Wildflower but it did not matter. He knew how to fight wars and win them.

Wildflower waited for him. After he left, she knew how meaningless her life was without him. She wanted the time to hurry up but it moved so slow that every moment killed her a little. It was the same time that ticked away so hurriedly whenever Prince came to meet her in the Forest, she thought angrily. She missed his sweet voice, the safety in his mighty arms, his serene smile and the way he stared into her eyes making her blush.

She daydreamed all the time, listening to the music of the rustling leaves and watching squirrels nibbling at the treenuts, the things the Prince loved to do. She dreamt about the Palace her Prince would take her to. She had never seen the Palace, but she had been there in her imagination, through her Prince's eyes. Majestic iron gates shining silver, huge ballrooms, the Roses adorning the high golden walls, precious stones glittering on the silk curtains, rich food, fine wine, fluffy pillows... She wasn't really fascinated by the Palace. She had grown up in the Forest; of what use the diamonds and silk, roses and tulips, gold and silver were to her! All she ever wished was to wake up to her Prince every morning and sleep in his arms every night.

All through the burning sun and the cold rain, through savage wildfires, a vicious tempest and the winter that seemed endless that year, she stayed strong. She prayed for her Prince's safety day and night.

When a melodious song of a cuckoo brought the news of the imminent spring, her heart skipped a beat. She danced with joy and sang loudly in her rough voice. With every passing moment, her Prince was coming closer to her now... Soon she would lose herself in his loving embrace. The coldest winter in her heart would end soon... All that painful wait since eternity would come to an end.

All the Trees around her called her lunatic. She smiled proudly telling them, "Wait till my Prince comes!" with her nose in the air.

She wondered all the time where the Prince's Royal Carriage would land in that dense wild Forest. She shook her roots and pulled them off the soil. It was painful; but the love she had for him had only made her stronger than ever. She had long decided not to wither in his absence.

"When you will be back, I will dazzle you with my glow!" she had told him mischievously before he had left.

She moved to a beautiful Riverbank, adorned with the green carpet of the lush grass laid out as if to welcome her Prince.

'One step closer to you..' she whispered to herself happily.

The Prince never came back even after spring, nor did his message.

She pulls her roots off every morning to go back to her old Forest just to see if her Prince returns there. She asks the Trees around for any sign of him. Some whisper, some smirk, some sympathize, but no-one calls her lunatic on her face anymore. With a sympathetic shake of heads, the Trees tell her the Prince would never come back.

"Shut up! You don't know him! He keeps his promise." she spits at them indignantly and leaves for the Riverbank in a surly mood.

'He is the Prince after all, he must have Roses in his Palace. Poor Wildflower!'

'Hasn't she started withering these days....'
The Trees discuss after she leaves every evening.

To be continued...

Picture Perfect

We sat on a rock on the riverbank, legs stretched out in the brown water the tiny waves carried to the bank. I stole glances at her every now and then. She played with the water with her button-eyes gleaming with a childlike joy. A few mischievous strands of her hair played on the wind. Small beads of water glistened on her cheeks. A faint content smile on her face just completed the perfect picture for me. A smile so beautiful that something ached near my heart every time I saw it...

She was sitting a foot away from me yet she seemed so far. I wished we weren't just friends. It happened so many times that my feelings reached the tip of my tongue and I restrained them just in time... How could she not see the eyes that were only for her.. The heart that burnt with passion everyday... Being just friends was killing me. How I wish she were mine...

I looked at the river. The sun reflected in its waters that now shone like molten gold. A flock of birds flew with their wings outstretched in the distant skies.

"Hey! Look at this! Almost like your ultimate dream! Oh, if only it were the sea you always imagine!" I said to her, snapping back to the reality, showing her the glittering water.

She looked out in the distant horizon. "I told you about that dream too! Seriously! I tell you everything!" she said, half-surprised, half-bemused.

"Of course you do! You know how much we talk?? I have six thousand messages in my inbox!" I told her, "That are only yours, sent to me. Add my replies to them!"

"Oh God!" she exclaimed, "People would think we are crazy!"

A moment passed in silence, punctuated only by the pleasant sound of water as she rocked her legs absent-mindedly.

"Do you imagine what would happen when finally we would have to stop talking like this?" she asked in a low voice, not looking at me.

I sighed deeply. Of course I had imagined that a million times. At nights when I lay awake in my bed, I always imagined the time when it would be the end of our crazy friendly conversations that continued all the time till one of us fell asleep midway into typing a reply. Someday, she would be a part of someone else's life and then I would be nothing but some silly guy she wouldn't even know loved her. An afterglow...

"Yes." I admitted truthfully, staring at the water at my feet, "You realise, don't you? One day all our crazy conversations will have to stop. One day you will find the guy of your dreams and all."

She did not look up. She spoke in a slightly heavy voice, squirming uncomfortably, "I am never going to marry if that's the case." She folded her arms across her chest like a haughty child.

I gaped at her. She must be kidding. "This is crazy." I told her.

"Yes. But I have an idea. Here's the deal!" she said quickly, not giving me any time to think, with a sudden mischievous expression on her face, "By the time I decide to marry, if I don't find anyone I am comfortable with, we will marry. Is it fine!?"

Whoa! Please don't do this to me, I wanted to tell her. A slightest budding hope in my heart could kill me later. But wasn't this exactly all I wanted? That place in her life that I dreamt of, day and night.

"What happened?" she asked with a faltering smile and a slightly disappointed tone, "What do you think?"

"I will be honoured, my lady!" I smiled at her. 'Honoured! Dudette, do you have any idea how crazy I am about you!', I wanted to say. Her smile returned. She still looked uncomfortable as if she was about to say something but she seemed to have decided against it.

Another moment passed in silence. Our eyes met briefly before she looked at the horizon.

"Hey, but when is the latest you will decide to get married?" I enquired curiously, seriously considering her deal but making it sound casual to her.

She paused for a moment, cleared her throat and replied, "Tomorrow?"

It took me full five seconds to realise what she meant.

"You mean... I.. You... Are you... Are you saying I am the one???" I stuttered, turning to her in disbelief.

"Oh. Finally!! Stupid! You got it!" she said, shaking her head in mock exasperation with her face blushing red.

"I don't believe it! God! And you are the one who asked!" I said breathlessly. My heart did a hundred somersaults and I couldn't feel my legs.

She looked relieved and grinned. Her voice shook a little with emotions when she talked further, "And for your information- watching the sun glowing in the waters at the meeting point of three oceans is not my ultimate dream anymore... It's been you for quite a long time now.."

I was at the loss for words. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, so many confessions to make but that could wait for the time being... We would have a lifetime to do that.

"You know what?" I asked her when I could talk without stuttering.

"What?" she asked with a nod. Her earrings oscillated a little with that tiny jerk. I could have forgotten what I had to say.

"I never had a dream. Till I met you."

That was the happiest day of my life.

Insanity

She laughs uncontrollably and maniacally. The people around her exchange concerned looks with each other. She laughs at them for thinking she has gone insane while deep inside she knows she has just turned more sane than ever.

She knows most of them will not understand her because they belong to the same society she laughs at. Yes, she laughs at the society that tries to confine love in the rusted chains of the ruthless rules they set themselves, just as she has read in one of her favorite books- the rules that define who should be loved and how and how much. She laughs at the society that judges her on the basis of her material wealth and birthplace.

But more than that, she laughs at all those submissive and spineless weaklings who surreptitiously conceal their own inabilities and unwillingness with their fake sincerity to conform to the rules and those who conveniently blame the rules of society to come clean to- ironically, the same society.

She doesn't forget to laugh at herself for thinking the world will be fair to her because she is honest. She laughs at everything she ever hoped for and everything she ever had faith in. She laughs at her own sharp memory that everyone admires. 'Bullshit!' she loudly blurts out, remembering things she had been promised and laughs. The people around her squirm in their seats uncomfortably. That only makes her laugh more.

Then she laughs at anyone who explains her how much they love her. She thinks they belong to the same world that changes its colors faster than a chameleon does. She laughs at them until they cry and then she continues laughing at their tears that seem remotely familiar to her. They fail to move her. To her, tears are the signs of weakness she detests now. She tells them she is unreachable. She wonders if she has lost her tenderness- but what good is the tenderness if it only makes her weak!

She laughs at the people who claim to love her and fail to understand that she is with the very person who loves her the most. She is with herself. She is like the sun. She lightens up everyone's day but approaching her is hazardous. She burns everyone who comes in her vicinity, everyone who wants to touch her heart that she keeps inside the guarding walls now...

She laughs so much that her jaw hurts. She laughs so much that she ends up crying. Still, she is not insane.

Confessions

"Oh here's one more confession!" I said excitedly, "Remember you told me about some guy in your neighborhood you had crush on? I was very sad that day. I felt so jealous of that guy! When you told he played guitar I even considered learning it at one wild moment!"

She burst into laughter, "You were trying to change the topic and I was deliberately pulling you back at it. I knew you were a little jealous. I was having a time of my life." she said winking at me, smiling radiantly.

"You know how much it sucks being friend-zoned!? You wicked girl! You know what, I thought you would never fall for someone like me! Day and night we talked about food, work, families, stories, songs, studies and all the other things in the world but not the very thing we kept secret from each other!" I reminisced. The memories brought smile on our faces.

"The guy was only imaginary, by the way, that guitar guy!" she said with her tongue playing in her cheeks.

"What!" I gawked at her with wide eyes, "You are so mean!"

She laughed even more. Then suddenly she seemed to have remembered something and she smiled slyly.

"What is it!" I asked her, "Don't try to hide anything! It's confession time! Your turn now!"

She blushed deep red and shook her head vigorously, "Noway! It's embarrassing and well... really..." she paused, searching for a word and said, "Icky!"

"Now you have to tell me! Please please please!!!" I insisted curiously.

"Promise me you will never tell this to anyone." she asked me with pleading eyes.
I rolled my eyes and agreed.

She heaved a deep sigh and suppressing her smile, she said, "Remember we used to go to the tapri for the evening tea?? Our entire group?"

"What about it?" I asked her impatiently.

"I used to love that time. I wasn't really a fan of tapri chai. I just got to steal glances at you from above the tea cups. I used to never skip that teatime no matter how much work I had." she pursed her lips, fidgeting with her fingers nervously.

"What's so embarrassing in this! That was the reason I never skipped tea too!" I said.

"Ummm... You know..." she cleared her throat and nibbling at her knuckles to suppress a fit of smiles, she said, "Actually one day when I finished my tea, I found a very ugly dead insect lying at the bottom of the cup..." she shivered a little and continued, "I did not scream nor did I tell anyone fearing we might stop coming to the tapri altogether. I did not even say anything to the chaiwala. I quickly threw the rest of tea along with that insect away when no-one was looking at me. And we continued to go there. That's why I suggested everyone had tea in paper-cups instead of glass cups!!"

She looked at my face tentatively, waiting for my expression.

I stared at her for a moment and roared with laughter.

"Oh my god! Yuck!!!!!" I stopped laughing and imagining the whole scene, burst into a fresh fit of laughter.

"I knew you would laugh! I shouldn't have told you in the first place." she snapped at me flaring her nostrils in mock anger, pushing me away.

I controlled my fit of laughter, "You know how crazy you are?"

She fidgeted with her fingers sheepishly. When she looked up at me, her button-eyes were shining with tears. Sniffing and rubbing her nose with the back of her palm, she shrugged.

I pulled her closer to me and pushed back a strand of her hair that tickled my cheek. I could feel her breath quickening. She could even have heard my heart beating and then we kissed, her fingers pulling gently at my hair and mine touching her cheeks... I traced my finger softly on her neck and pulling back a little, I whispered in her ear, "There's an insect right here, you want to eat it?"

She pinched my arm and we giggled.

The Road Not Taken

That innocent gleam in her button-eyes... The demure, loving words she whispered softly in my ears... Her habit of fidgeting with her fingers at awkward moments... The mischievous smile with which she beamed at me whenever our eyes met... Her tears that made even the sadness look painfully beautiful... That absent-minded goodbye-wave she did with an illogical fear evident on her face... The way she coiled around my arms like I was her superhero... The tenderness of her touch... The softness of her skin... The blush on her cheeks that rendered her speechless at our rare rendezvous. The taste of the food she secretly cooked for me and fed me with her hands... The way she wiped my sweat off my forehead when we walked together in the sun...

She must have been some beautiful early morning dream. Reality can never be that perfect.

I stood at the fork my path had split at.

She stood with her hand extended at me on one of the roads. She smiled with her eyes full of expectations and longing. My only dream… That beautiful early morning dream… Only a few feet away… The road she had taken was rough, narrow and full of sharp stones and shriveled grass. When our eyes met, I averted mine from her. Something twisted inside my heart… The perpetual battle of my thoughts grew more gruesome than ever.

I took the other road.

She scorns me for taking a simpler road. Little does she know that having choices isn't always an advantage. Little does she know that any road without her hand in mine could never be simple for me. Little does she know why Robert Frost’s poem is titled ‘The Road Not Taken’ instead of ‘The Road Less Traveled’… Little does she know about regrets…

"I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

- Robert Frost

Good Riddance

I did not love her anymore. Her voice wasn't like a sweet music to my ears anymore. Instead it annoyed me. Her persistent, caring phone calls that used to fill my heart with warmth were only a source of disturbance to me now. When she told how much she missed me, she only got on my nerves.

'Stop your nonsense! I do not love you anymore!' I wanted to shout at her. I wanted to carve those words on her heart so that she would stop telling she loved me. I wanted the truth to sink in her brain, I wanted her to stop dreaming of me.

One day I told her so. Her reactions weren't unexpected. She cried. She sobbed. She put up a whole big melodrama whining how I had changed. She begged me to stay. She told me she could do anything for me, she could be anyone I want her to be. That only disgusted me more, I pitied her. She held on to my hand like a drowning person would hold on to a floating plank, I only freed myself from her desperate grip. She screamed dramatically, calling me cold, callous and cruel. With teary eyes, she reminded me of all the things I ever said to her, she even sang our favourite song (Need You Now: Lady Antebellum; such a drama queen I tell you!) in a shaking voice, lyrics all incomprehensible to me because of her punctuating sobs. I told her I could not take her emotional brunt anymore. I apologized and shrugged admitting to her that I was stupid when I promised her things. And really, I was. I was blinded by her love. She was a crazy, childish woman and she lived in a dream world. She had idealistic ideas about love. We were immature. Stupid. Blind. Deaf. Overconfident. I did not belong there in her dream world. I had to change. I did. I had different aspirations now and she did not fit anywhere. She wasn't perfect anymore. Oh- once she was; but hey! Life is so dynamic. I am in an entirely different world now. Fast paced, huge, competitive, rich, polished, practical and better. She had stayed back, stuck to her small world where I had left her off. I don't say it was her mistake. It wasn't my mistake either. No. I won't take that blame.

She fell silent one day and protested no more. I did not even say bye. I was done with her melodrama already, so many times. I had found inner peace.

'Please hug me just once before you decide we should part ways.' she had said beseechingly at one point.

'Why?' I had asked her dryly, annoyed at her mawkishly sentimental dialogues.

'Just one last attempt, you might just change your mind. Maybe you will remember what we have been fighting for...' she had whispered sadly.

I never even called her.

I avoid all messy things. They ruin my well-cut expensive suits.

Lost

She glanced around like a timid rabbit, her eyes searching for something she couldn't spot. Her lips trembled a little as the tears tried to break free. With a lost look, she moved a few paces to and fro in quite a confused state.

A lady walking on the sidewalk tapped on her shoulder and asked sympathetically, "Any problem? Are you lost?"

She just nodded. She must really have looked stupid. The grown ups don't get lost on the way.

"Where do you want to go?" the lady asked gently.

"On." she said in a voice devoid of a tone and stared helplessly into her eyes.

With one alarming look at her, the lady hurried away from her as fast as possible.

Lullaby

She looked really tired these days. She had dark circles around her eyes and her usually sparkling eyes that now looked sunken deep in their sockets seemed to have lost the shine in them. Her cheekbones were more prominent than ever. I was really worried for her. Many times I did try to break the ice to ask her what she was upto. "It's work, Dad. I have been slogging." was all she said and always left as though she was in hurry.

Several times I saw her staring out of the window, completely lost with unfocused eyes. She had buried herself in her books and computer these days. Her daily cheery phone conversations were long gone. My mind was full of ominous speculations.

I know how children these days hate we-need-to-talk situations, but I had to ask her. On one of the moments when she was buried in her work, I asked her almost awkwardly, "Is everything okay?"

"Hm." she replied in a curt manner, without looking up from her laptop.

I was not going to beat around the bush anymore. "You don't seem busy in chats or calls these days...? What's up with you both?"

It seemed like she knew this question was imminent. She stopped her work and looked up at me. She quickly looked away though; and with a strange forced smile and an extremely grave voice quite unlike her, she said, "We ended it. It's finished."

I had probably guessed it already but her confirmation still did shake my heart.

"He was so sure when he talked to me! And you were confident too! What happened exactly?" I enquired, trying to keep the shock out of my voice but failing miserably at it.

For a moment I thought she would burst into tears. But she suddenly seemed busy with something in a book lying in front of her.

"Nothing, Dad. I don't know. It wasn't working out." she replied in a small voice trying hard to sound casual. The corners of her mouth twitched a little and her lower lip trembled almost unnoticeably.

Trying to act normal and failing pathetically at it was something she got from me.

"Now?" I asked her.

She shrugged and said, "Nothing anymore. Finished."

I really wished she stopped trying to look normal.

I don't understand how this generation thinks. It only seemed like yesterday when, in a pin-drop awkward silence she told me, "I want to marry him, Dad!"

I wondered whether there was anything more insecure and scary for a father than seeing his daughter in love with a guy. How could she do that! She was so young, I thought. I remembered the time when she was so small I could hold her in my palms, almost scared I would drop her. When had she grown up so much! To fall in love, to choose a guy for herself!

I felt angry and jealous of that guy. 'Princess' he called her; I overheard her once telling her mother shyly. After all the glow on her face and her reddened cheeks whenever she talked about him was the proof she totally admired him.

"What if I don't give my consent?" I asked her in a strict tone I had never used before.

"I would marry him anyway." she replied in a low but defiant voice.

She had made up her mind and I knew she had really grown up, quite stealthily, without telling me, so suddenly.

I had always set her free to make her own decisions or mistakes.
"You are an adult now. You both are. Hope you have thought well." was all I told her.
I caught her smiling clandestinely with her eyes fixed down, toes playing with something on the floor.

And now she sat in front me, not meeting my eyes yet again but this time that playful sly smile was wiped off. I felt the surge of anger for whatever that had robbed her off her sunny and childlike self.

I remembered the days when she was a kid. She was an obedient child. I would teach her Mathematics and solve a sum as many times as she asked me to, till she grasped the method, till that smile of satisfaction flowered on her eager face. We would study all night together, me sharpening her pencils and filling ink in her pens, forcing her to finish the entire glass of milk that she hated doing... Making perfect half-fried eggs she loved, till she stopped complaining about the yolk being too runny... Sometimes we would play cards together and I would let her win just to watch her face light up with triumphant smirk... When she was a kid, she asked me to tell her bedtime stories. She wouldn't sleep till I told her at least five per night.

Every night she would request, "That song, Dad please!"

I would sing that folk-song I had listened from the Krishna temple at my village where I grew up. I would be all sleepy, droopy-eyed and the tough child as she was, she would make me explain the meaning of each verse, even though she had already heard it from me so many times.

"Please Dad," she would croon with her beady eyes pleading and her tiny arm around my neck and I wouldn't feel tired anymore.

I wish I could tell her that she will always be my princess no matter what. I wish I could sing her a lullaby now. These days when I wake up in the middle of the night, I can see the lights in her room still on. I wish I could sing her favourite song to her. I wish I could sing her to sleep.

Deadly Gallows

It had been very painful. I couldn't take it anymore. I was done. I couldn't eat or sleep for days. Most of the nights I twitched and whimpered in my bed in agony. I cried in pain.

That's when I knew I had to go for tooth extraction.

'Oh!' was the only expression given by my boss when I sought leave for dentist's appointment for tooth extraction.

'What?' I asked defensively.

'No... I mean, I have never had it myself but I heard it hurts.' he said with an air of sympathy he might have shown to someone who has just been diagnosed with cancer.

How tactless one could have been! As if I wasn't already scared.

My experiences with dentists had been limited to cavity fillings and even though they are apparently painless, the feeling of pressure on teeth while drilling hole through them is totally unwelcome to me. So this time when I knew my tooth had no hope of being saved, I braced myself for extraction. I collected experiences of almost everyone I knew who went through the same ordeal. I pestered everyone with a single question, 'How much does it hurt?'

While my parents convinced me that it hurts only a little and it would be fine, I knew by experience that 'only a little' could be a relative term and also from the fact that my sister who had already had an extraction simpered at the phrase used by my parents, I concluded that it won't be easy. The only convincing and realistic advice was- 'Oh it sure hurts but it won't last more than 30 seconds. And remember, that will be the end of the pain from that tooth. You will live happily ever after.'

With my heart beating frantically with trepidation and my brain advising me to run and hide while I could, I queued up at my dentist's clinic. That's the moment I knew what Arjun meant by ' सीदन्ति मम गात्राणि, मुखं च परिशुष्यते ।' in Bhagavadgeeta. A scene at a dentist clinic always reminds me of an operation theatre or an interview process where everyone in the queue is restless and have that typical expression on their faces as if they are heading to the gallows for execution.

Once I was inside, I submitted myself in that chair with all horrible instruments attached to it. I tried to look elsewhere just to notice syringes nearby.

'Just do it.' I requested my dentist mustering whatever little courage was left in me.

To my surprise, the needle pierced the gum with almost no pain. I heaved a sigh of relief once it was done. As I waited for 15 minutes for the anesthesia to take effect, I pictured myself getting to live my life without toothache. 30 seconds of pain and it will be fine, I told myself.

He started getting his instruments ready. Several pliers (not sure of what that deadly weapon is called) big and small. They landed up with a soft metallic thud on a tray in front of me. I prayed to as many gods I could remember and closed my eyes shut.

Then the weirdest pain in my life came. He held my tooth in the pliers and pulled it with an increasing amount of force. I shuddered and screamed. The dentist continued mercilessly. (Dentists are devils!) As I was almost on the verge of crying, the most ominous sound came. The sound of a tooth cracking. As expected, now he pulled at three different locations around the tooth till he got the broken pieces out. The pain pulsated till my brain and spread to ears, eyes and it almost felt like some part of my brain was out instead of a tooth.

'It's almost done!' the dentist consoled and I thought the use of the world almost wasn't really soothing.

Finally the pulling seemed to stop and I opened my eyes. Being alive felt great but I was shaking from head to feet. It took me full 2 minutes to get up from the chair. I had the sicksweet taste of blood in mouth and the numb side of my face still felt tingly.

How I paid the dentist and how I came out are vague parts of the nightmarish incident. With cotton held between the teeth, I grabbed one of the seats amongst the waiting patients. I realized they were all already staring at me and I was sure they had heard me screaming. Some of them even gave me sympathetic smiles that were meant to console me. I could hardly return a smile.

I still taste blood as I write this post. Still out of habit- just as one's mind repeatedly goes to the people they miss, I try to touch my tooth with tongue only to realize it's no longer there. (Okay that was a really unromantic analogy). But honestly I can't wait to be able to eat normally.

And yes, those who think that the heartbreak is the worst kind of pain one could have, might not have experienced toothache. I take an opportunity here to thank all the dentists for putting up with the stereotypical opinions people have about them and still free them from their pain.

Now that I am sleeping with a sigh of relief, why do I feel a little tingling pain on my other tooth!!?!

Apocalypse

August 2012.

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"Look what I got!" she nudged him and showed him a message she had just received, that joked something about the possibly sudden population increase nine months after 21st December 2012.

He laughed. "Hilarious!!! Do you think the world would end on 21st December?"

She smiled and averted her eyes from him.

"I don't think so. They all make it sound like that." she shrugged and continued in a low voice, "I kinda want it to end."

"What!" he asked her incredulously, exactly the reaction she had expected, "Are you mad! How cynical could you be! Honestly, I don't want the world to end. I want to live with you for quite a long time. For a lifetime!"

She wished for the same. To spend her entire lifetime with him. She could foresee the hurdles though. She was scared. She knew that the plans of the destiny are way too twisted to be understood by mere mortals like them... There were so many what-ifs that clouded her prefect sense of happiness several times. She wasn't confused about their decision, her choice. The fear of what future would unfold plagued her mind. A possible future without him. A possible future being alone... The same stupid fear that made her heart beat unevenly every time they hung up the phone after night-long calls or every time she waved him bye from her window whenever he accompanied her on her way home...

She did not say anything. She kept her gaze fixed on her own fingers entwined in his.

"Say something!" he said pressing her palm gently.

"Maybe I am a pessimist. You say you want to live with me. I say I don't want to live without you." she managed to say finally, "I don't know what future holds. The end of the world would probably be the end of my doubts... I would love to freeze in this moment. Right here with you... I don't want to see the future. I am totally happy in present." She said all that in a rush and coiled tightly around his arm as though to stop him from running away.

He roared with laughter. She gave him an unsmiling, reproachful look.

"You are mad. It doesn't make me feel good you thinking like this. Don't you trust me?" he asked fixing his eyes on hers.

She loved his conviction, the sense of security his self-confidence radiated. She had always loved that about him.

"I do." she said nodding serenely, "I just don't trust the fate." she whispered the later in a barely audible voice.

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July 2014

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The world has ended- but only her world. It all came crashing down at once. Now only the traces remain. She finds some wounded piece every now and then. In the form of some unwitting, unguarded moments when she calls someone with that one name just out of a diehard habit... Or when there are awkward offhand mentions of the painfully familiar places, people and incidents... Or when she instinctively grabs her phone to tell that very person something interesting that she comes across... Or when something in her heart moves uncomfortably with the waft of a familiar fragrance that she is sure she only imagines... Or sometimes when she simply breathes the air that almost always feels insufficient nowadays.

Salvation

She suffocated everywhere she went. She complained about it to everyone, but they all said she was the only one who felt it. The air always felt thick and breathing was a hard task for her. Whenever she entered a room or grabbed a seat in a bus or a car, she instinctively opened the windows hastily although it never seemed to help.

She knew it was something psychological more than physical. She sat with a pen and a paper in her hand, the tip of her pen touching the start of the line for a really long time, hands fidgeting with the pen. Her brain felt stale. She was sure there were so many things that were waiting to break free. It was a rare time in her life when Words failed her. She wrote something, read it again and made an impatient noise realizing it was not even close to the intensity and depth she had in her writing before. She tore the paper irritably and threw it away. It landed up on the floor already strewn with torn papers floating around carelessly. She buried her face in her palms and slumped in the chair.

She stashed the pen away. She snapped at everyone around as if it was their fault she could not write. Finally exasperated, she sat alone and closed her eyes. It was as if the ghosts of her thoughts were waiting for her to close her eyes. They swooped down on her, clawed her heart with their sharp nails, some lunged at her and started throttling her. She gasped for air, breathing hard, clenching fists, trying to muffle the terrible voices that rang in her ears... She would embrace the death if only it took her quickly but it just wouldn't...

"Don't get scared. Don't fight them." The Small Voice Inside Her Head told her, "It won't kill you. You know what? Write about them... Write for them..."

Tired as she already was, she gave up fighting at once. She let them all pounce on her. It was the only way to be strong, she thought, she would carry these scars proudly one day.

She opened her eyes and hurriedly grabbed the pen and a new sheet of paper. She wasn't herself anymore, the world around her did not exist now, she had lost her way, yet found it... As her pen moved fast on the paper, she saw the ink tracing letters on it. Words that came from apparently nowhere, there was no stopping today. She was emptying herself like the ink in her pen. The weight on her heart felt lighter after every sentence she wrote. All her tethered emotions had finally severed the binding ropes and broke out like bad blood gushing out of a gruesome wound...

There was silence now. She closed her eyes again and there was nothing that pounced on her. There she stood- staring at the paper that now held the ghosts inside her, trapped with the chains of Words...

"Finally, I could write!" her own voice sounded surprised to her. She felt liberated. Words were her ultimate saviors. She had tears of joy in her eyes.

A Skeleton

She opened her cupboard full of books. The usual smell of books greeted her. A content smile spread on her lips. She took several seconds to inhale and savour her favourite smell in the world and then started rummaging through the diaries, novels, thick books, study materials, notebooks to find the class notes she prepared a few days ago.

She searched all the shelves till she touched the smooth cover of a familiar book. She sighed. Her expressions suddenly turned grim. She crumpled in front of the open cupboard as though her knees had gone weak.

Her hands shook a little as she took the book in her hands. She caressed the smooth front cover with her fingertips. Slowly she opened the first page, where she knew it bore a message she had read a thousand times.. Till she had known it by heart and even after that. Those loving words that once- would make her stomach tingle with an inexplicable joy. Her treasure that, she always thought she would never forget to grab before running out of a burning house.

She could not read the words anymore. Her vision was blurred with the grief that suddenly shone in her eyes and her mind was clouded by the rush of the old memories.

She remembered the day when she had touched the book for the first time.

It only seemed like yesterday. As she unwrapped the gift, she cast loving glances at him. He was looking at her smiling, excited, rubbing his palms together... Egging her on to tear the wrapping fast...

She nearly screamed when she saw the book. 'My favourite book! I have always, Always wanted it!' She eyed it with avid eyes.

She turned a page and found his small handwriting that had traced a message in a corner.

'Thanks for coming in my life and making it Magical.'

She felt like the happiest girl in the world. 'It is the most awesome gift anyone could get me!' she told him as he took her in his arms.

She shook the memory off. She found herself shaking with rage. Before she knew what she was doing, she threw the book away with all the might she had, closed the cupboard with more force than required and moved to the window to stare into the silent starry night- the habit she recently took to.

She glanced back at the book stealthily. The front cover had got a fold. It lay open on the ground like a wounded soldier lying spread-eagled. She stared at the book she once loved, the book she knew she still loved. She couldn't take it anymore. She rushed and picked it up, closed it, straightened the front page with her palm carefully. With one long final look at it, she smelled it deeply closing her eyes. It did have that beautiful paper-like crisp smell in it. She opened the cupboard and stashed it away in a corner, stacked some random books onto it as if to bury it- although she knew how futile that was...

I have a skeleton of a book in my closet, she smiled at her own funny thought.

Rain and Fire

She stepped forward in the rain. It felt unpleasantly chilly to her; against the warmth of the tears on her cheeks. It is cold, she thought- but not colder than an indifferent heart. The rain engulfed her in its relentless downpour. It was not worse than the downpour in her own heart though. Each drop of rain struck her sharp like a needle. She was drenched. Drenched in memories- once beautiful, now painful.

'I want to be free!!!' She cried.

The warmth of the tears wasn't enough to shield her from the cold. It was the indignant, hateful, unforgiving fire in her heart, she thought- that soothed her. The fire she knew was in fact burning her instead of warming.

Embracing the cold is the only way. There will be warmer days, she hoped as she shivered.

An Ostrich

'Eeyy Mobile!' the man in the driving seat shouted at me as a car halted with a screech inches away from me, 'Watch out!' I stood frozen with headphones in ears and phone in hands. I had not noticed the speeding car as I had been buried in my phone while crossing the road. Several people eyed me reproachfully, some did a tch tch. I cringed in embarrassment and sprinted my way across the road.

Not a new incident for me and I am not proud of it. I have spent 22 good years in Mumbai with busy roads and 3 years in Pune with indisciplined drivers. Still I always fumble while crossing roads. Seriously, several times I wonder if there is some problem in my eye-brain-leg coordination or I am just absent minded.

I am at my funniest when I cross the roads. First, I never cross roads alone. I wait for someone coming to cross the road, shield myself with them, match their speed hoping they aren't quicker than me and run along. I always did that while crossing that highway on the way to VJTI. If I happen to go on an afternoon when there is noone crossing the road, I would simply stand their waiting for ages for traffic to clear out.

I do the strangest thing when I see a vehicle speeding in my direction. I stand stiff, in the middle of the road, with head down, eyes shut tight. Fortunately I never died in a road accident. Till now.

One of my friends saw my amazing style of crossing. He held me by my backpack and stirred me away.
'Are you mad? Why do you stand there! People were laughing at you!' he informed, laughing uncontrollably.
'I don't know. I am just scared while crossing roads. It automatically happens.' I said shrugging.
'I read it somewhere. They say it's myth. Do u know ostrich?' he said, 'When they spot a danger, they bury their heads in the sand, you are an ostrich!' he laughed, 'you think not seeing the danger would stop the danger from approaching you.'


This road-safety issue of mine is so grave that on numerous occasions, strangers took me by wrist and helped me cross the road. Yes. Once I was planning my move looking intently at the traffic, putting a foot forward and then wincing and backing off indecisively. A lady held me by wrist and took me on the other side and left quietly. Some other time, a guy in my office with whom I had never talked before suddenly took my arm and pulled me across. (Okay- I kept wondering for the next few minutes how he thought he would manage to do that without offending me.)

Another friend teased me when I brought up the topic, "Maybe while crossing the road, Ketaki, you seem vulnerable. Like you need saving. People think this girl must be saved." I made a face at her.

One day I did bump into someone I trusted my life with. I would tug at their arm and then close my eyes- ready for the leap of faith. I could hear the horns screeching. The vehicles whirred around us. I could even feel the wind blowing noisily as some car whooshed swiftly, could suffocate slightly with the traffic smell. I did not have to open my eyes. I knew I was in safe hands. Do you know that feeling of safety, that divine inner peace that clears out your head off any fear or worry? Exactly that. I did not care to open my eyes. I just tugged at their arm. The assuring warmth of their arm made me fearless. Reckless and secure at the same time.

After a while that arm had snapped free of me. Maybe they were scared themselves, unwilling to move ahead... I never knew. All I knew was that I was alone in the middle of the road. Alone, unprotected, scared. Amongst vehicles moving... People running... Horns blowing.. I was frozen on the spot, cringing as I always did in the middle of the road. Neck bent, eyes fixed on ground in submission.

I could not stay there. There was a long stretch of road ahead still to be crossed. No matter how scared you are, you cannot stay frozen, that's the rule. It is necessary for what they call it- moving on. You know there are people across the road waiting for you. There are some cheering for you at a distance- you can do it, come on. You are alone in the middle of the road. Without help. Someday you have to come home.

I thought all this in the middle of that road, heaved a deep breath and walked forward. I am still walking on that road. Alone, not lonely but still having no option other than to learn to cross the road myself. I left some part of me on that road... I know I cannot go back to grab it. It is supposed to be like that. When you walk a really long road, you leave some things unknowingly or knowingly. In the road called life, there is no looking back no matter how precious thing you leave behind while walking forward.

I googled about ostrich habits. It seems they don't really bury their head in the sand on encountering a danger. I am learning not to stand stiff in the middle of the road with eyes shut. I am trying running, or better- fighting.