[Short Story] Tall Tales We Tell

Arjun sat on the sofa, changing the songs on his play list agitatedly,  tiring easily of each one. Either he didn't know the whole song, or the lyrics were bad, or it was too tough.

He felt his mother's touch on his shoulder.

'What is all that frustration for? 

I pity the music player.'

He plucked out the headphones and flung the iPod along with it on the sofa. 

'The culturals start tomorrow.
The music competitions is day after.
The seniors are banking on me.
And I haven't even chosen the song yet...'

She sat next to him, and rubbed his back.  He slumped down on her lap. He even let her ruffle his hair, which he had stopped her from doing ever since he joined college. 

 

 I think I can help you there.  I have saved some new songs in a playlist... you know... the ones that you haven't heard ... maybe you'll find something interesting...' 

Mothers know their sons best - he did find that magical song.

The beautiful love song, sung in his earnest voice moved almost everyone in the audience. 

 

'She floated into my vision 

 

Like 

A Blooming rose

A Poet's dream

A brilliant sun beam

A deer in flight

A moonlit night

A soft word of delight

A lone lamp in a temple aglow

Every girl present there felt, that he sang the song just for her.

The song helped him meet and marry his future wife Kanishka.

II

Arjun stood in the kitchen, making dhal and parathas. Masala chai simmered on another burner.  The kitchen was an absolute mess. It didn't bother him though since the cleaning lady would take care of it in the morning. 

 

Marriage was fine but it involved sacrifices, chief of which was his inability to meet his friends often or have late night parties with them. He hated having to behave so responsibly all the time.

Now that his wife was away after their first big fight, he wanted to make the best use of his time. ‘Freedom from bland cooking! Freedom from rampant nagging! Freedom from over snooping! Freedom from sermonizing!’ he laughed out loud. He felt rather proud about how he was able to vocalize his frustrations poetically. He slathered more ghee over an already soggy paratha with vengeance.

he was tingling with excitement for the evening that lay ahead. 

Finally, he was having all his friends over. All they wanted was a simple meal, loads of fun, his songs and chai to keep them going till the wee hours.

There was a lively song that was on everyone's lips and he was eager to present it that evening.

He sang it loudly experimenting with dance moves to go with it. 

In his enthusiasm, he failed to notice the generous drippings of ghee that had enriched not just the parathas, but the floor as well.

He feet slid down and he fell in a perfect straddle that any gymnast would have been proud of. He felt  a little dizzy and intense pain. He watched helplessly as the paratha burned and the dhal and the the tea spilled over shutting out the flame. As he dragged himself painfully towards the stove to turn it off a scream escaped his lips and his eyes welled up.

 

He contemplated hoisting himself up slowly to get his phone and call for help. He heard the key turn in the door. 

 

 Kanishka had chosen to cut short her visit and come back early.  She helped him up, contritely, her eyes brimming with love. 

 

III

Over the years she pruned and perfected the retelling of their 'story' to her children and to any one else who cared to listen  of how her husband, had loved her the very instant that he had set eyes on her and how he had even changed the song that he had planned to sing since he was so besotted with her. 

She would say how deeply in love they were and of their first fight  ages ago and how upon her early return plagued as she was by pangs of guilt, she had found him slumped on the kitchen floor, crying his heart out for her.


She would also tell them of her firm resolve to never leave his side, ever again…

And that, my friends, is how myths are born.

[Short Story] The Frosted Rose

Standing in the bathroom, facing the mirror that was above the blue glass washbowl, he surveyed himself running the razor slowly over the barely visible stubble, even as he mulled over the lines. He turned his angular face side to side, unsure which side looked best while facing a camera. He patted his high cheekbones dry with a towel running his hands over his face, testing for smoothness. He stared hard at the mirror and decided that the sharp glint of his gaze was what set him apart from the rest of the players and this was the face he would show to the world. He smiled mildly as he mouthed the lines without uttering them. He turned around and surveyed his half naked, six foot, lean and supple body in the full length mirror that was fixed to the back of the bathroom door - ‘A couple of inches more in height, even a few inches more would have made all the difference!’ ruing the fact that most of the players were turning out to be taller than him. Ok, the speech! Concentrate on the speech!’

His mind said – pulling him sharply from his meanderings.

He spoke the words- ‘Yes, it was a difficult game and xxx is a great player. There were several times when the game was as much his as mine…’ He stopped, pretending to keenly hear a question that was posed to him. ‘Yes my serves were more at the Tline this time...’ then said after a pause with a half smile and a slight shake to his head ‘Yeah, the aces came at crucial times’ pause… ‘I thank this very appreciative audience, my team- my coach, my physio and my girlfriend…’

‘Vijay!’ cooed Shreya his film star girlfriend from the bedroom, ‘Come here baby, what are you doing for so long, in there?’

He returned to the bedroom a little surly from being interrupted, but was soon calmed by the sight of Shreya. She was the girl of his dreams. Tall, athletic and incredibly beautiful with a pearl white complexion that was the envy of her costars. He had been over the moon, the day he professed his love and she had said ‘yes’ as if she had been waiting for that exact moment.


Now the irresistible temptress lay there, half hidden amidst the sheets, and he stood arrested in his tracks, his eyes taking in the beauty he beheld. The blanket slipped a little as she turned to lie on her stomach and he drank in the sight of her ivory smooth skin, her long legs. He sighed in exasperation at his helplessness when his eyes rested on the magnetic curve of her hips.


‘Sweetheart!’ he protested weakly, ‘You are making my life very difficult! I need to work on my speech! Shreya gave a wicked laugh. Vijay gave a sigh and sat down and cupping her chin with both his hands and looking earnestly into her eyes, he asked ‘Sweetheart my friends say you will leave me if I don’t win this game…’ ‘Who did?’ she asked, sharply, sitting up suddenly –legs bent- looking more like a mermaid emerging from the sheets.
‘Aman and Sanjay…’ he muttered. ‘But they’re very wrong baby!’ She laughed, playfully pulling him towards her, submerging him in her warm embrace. He happily drowned in the sea of her love.

He lost track of the time. When he recovered, he found himself in the shower again, all flushed and more confident than ever.


                                 ************************************

They were lunching at the Halcyon club after an exciting match with his friend Aman.
‘Machan this time you will surely win da!’ Aman said half in admiration or was there a tinge of jealousy in that statement thought Vijay. ‘How about your speech Vijay? Is it ready? The big day is barely four days away…’

The duo was soon surrounded by a group of raging fans who wanted Vijay’s autograph. Some wanted photographs with him too. He patiently signed his name carefully in the outstretched books. A girl pushed her way through the crowd and handing him a marker held out her cheek asking him to write on it. As he stood there debating whether to comply – Aman egged him on- ‘Draw a heart –draw a heart and then sign with in!’

Now the crowds were surging towards him uncontrollably, and he found himself drowning in a sea of human bodies – found himself borne aloft by powerful arms ‘Aman! He called frantically, ‘I am here don’t worry…’ Aman’s voice floated in, at the precipice of his consciousness.

Vijay sprang up spiritedly and moved to the court after the break. He was already beginning to taste victory after his one set lead and an early break in the second set over his opponent Prashanth. He moved frantically around the court, eager to finish the game, win the tournament and of course deliver the now well crafted speech. He heaved himself high to slam the ball in the front half of the court. Then all went blank.



                                             *********************************


Dr.Malik walked into the extended care unit, lingering over each of the eight patients who occupied the special ward. He examined them all in turn and explained each case in detail to the young interns accompanying him.

When he reached bed no: 8, he began, ‘This is Vijayanand Murthy, age 32, … you know the famous tennis player, who had the accident in the final … had a severe concussion after the fall, hitting the back of head in the tennis court… has been in Level II coma these last seven years… his eyes open every now and then and there is the occasional convulsions in his limbs.’

He paused, then continued …

‘Often, he goes on as if he is talking but it is always inaudible and almost sounds like gibberish…’he smiled up at his rapt audience. A perky intern asked, ‘Doctor, what is the level of brain activity in such patients? Do they dream?’ Dr.Malik spoke thoughtfully, ‘Obviously there is a lot of brain activity –that would explain the convulsions and the slurred speech- but research is still on about mapping dream activity…’ he didn’t elaborate further.

On the group’s exit, the staff nurse approached the bed for a routine examination. She pulled down his lower eyelid and shone a torch in the eyes of the dark emaciated form. She called out to her assistant to fill in the details in the record sheet in a matter of fact tone–
‘Pupil constriction- Yes
Temperature –normal
Breathing regular…’
Vijayanand stared vacantly at the torch that was flashed at his face.

At exactly 4:00Pm in the afternoon, Shreya walked in as she had done over the last 7 years. She sat there holding his hand, and gently massaging his face. She combed his hair and dabbed on a bit of talcum powder on his wan face. She spent the rest of the hour talking and reading to him. She always hoped and prayed that he would recover one day, although she heard pronouncements to the contrary from the doctors and nurses who attended on him.

She sat there quite unaware that Vijay dreamed of her often. That he kissed her lips tenderly and recalled their moments in passion in his dreams. Or that he lived and relived the days and events that led up to that fateful day. She did not know that she and Aman were the only two inhabitants in his dreams. Had she known this, her tears of despair might have also been tears of joy.


The supine form in the bed shuddered and lapsed into an endless dream. Vijay looked at Aman and Shreya sitting at the table facing him. ‘Did you hear what the doctor said?’ he asked agitatedly. ‘Am I in a coma? Am I in a madhouse?’   ‘Vijay! You old delightful fool laughed Aman… You are hallucinating again!’

Aman smiled reassuringly, looking dapper, as ever in his white and white tennis gear ‘Why don’t we play a game?’ He asked picking up his raquet. ‘Shreya, why don’t you come and cheer us as always?’
Vijay slapped his shoulder and asked ‘Best of three as usual?’ Aman nodded and then asked, ‘By the way how is the speech coming along?  Shreya smiled up at him in the sunlight, ‘You know Vijay, they are planning to make a film about us – about you and me and our love! Think about it! And guess what? We are playing the lead role!’ She shrieked in delight. ‘I don’t know about you, but I have to prepare my acceptance speech if I win the best actress award…’

(Short story) The little golden watch

 Madhav eased the car slowly into the near empty parking lot. Unlike his friends, it was not often that he made this trip to the neighbouring country of Bahrain. He smiled as he thought how the tiny country had so much to offer by way of entertainment. He stepped out from the cool of the car to the blazing unbearable heat of a hot stuffy summer afternoon. He surveyed himself in the car window and abstractedly arranged his hair. He was of average height about five foot eight, well built, with a clearly defined carefully groomed moustache and beard. His complexion was middling fair. He wasn’t overtly charming, but if you looked carefully you could detect it especially when he smiled, which he did often. He was well dressed; nothing flamboyant, as if he didn’t want people to take too much notice of him. He wore his watch on the left wrist –a Tag Heuer, one of the rare luxuries that he allowed himself.


He started to walk the short distance to the famed restaurant that was to be the first of his halts that day. Next he planned to watch a film and make a few purchases at the mall and drive back and reach home well before mid night. Many of his friends called him ‘Swami’ (saint) as he had none of their vices to splurge his money on. He neither smoked nor drank. This strict abstinence made him look a lot younger than his age.


He walked with quick athletic steps towards the restaurant head bent as if to ward of the sunlight streaming mercilessly down. Suddenly something caught his eye something golden, shining. He bent down and picked it up – it was a beautiful woman’s watch with a diamond encrusted dial. It had a delicate gold and silver strap.

Madhav was perplexed.

Why would someone part with such a beautiful watch? he thought.

He looked around feverishly but couldn’t find anyone about. It wasn’t a crowded day. He was agitated– he wished he had not set eyes on it. He was all for returning it to the original owner. But where was she? He instinctively tested the clasp and found it to be loose. 'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'This is the reason, it fell!' He put it carefully in his right pocket and walked on.

But a few paces later he took out the watch and looked at it again. He thought, This must have adorned a beautiful wrist! As watches were his passion, he admired it in the sunlight and he noticed for the first time the faint exotic perfume that it exuded. He tried to work up the image of its wearer.

At lunch he tried eating but found himself reaching for the watch again and again. He scanned the women in the restaurant hoping to find the owner and return the burden in his pocket. They were mostly mothers coaxing obstinate children to eat. Some of them were battling with young ones strapped onto baby chairs. He smiled involuntarily. There were indeed a few couples, occupying dark corners of the restaurant giggling and whispering and it looked as though they cherished their privacy. But he still ventured near them dropping a napkin and looking surreptitiously at their wrists even as he straightened. But his efforts were in vain.

At the mall he happened to pass by a perfume shop. He had a sudden wild thought. He decided to at least look for the perfume that the watch smelled of. He tested the perfumes there indecisively and worked up the courage to confide to the shop assistant. He soon had the brand in his hand and he bought if after the acquiescence of his olfactory receptors.


On reaching home he surfed the net to identify the model and learnt that the watch was a rare edition, which only furthered his curiosity about the mystery wearer. He carefully placed the watch and the bottle of perfume in a large box and put it in the top rack of his cupboard. He often looked it and tried to visualize the woman. He imagined a tall slim girl, with long straight brown hair, about 22 quite like the models in Fair and Lovely ads but he couldn’t imagine beyond this, about the actual features of her face – her eyes or her lips.

                                                                        II

A couple of years later, his parents, convinced that he wouldn’t find a partner on his own, solemnized his marriage with Aditi.

Life took on a new meaning and he found great joy and peace that had eluded him for a long time. He slowly began to forget the woman he had been obsessed with ever since that hot steamy afternoon. He shared with Aditi everything -- his secrets, his fears, but he never worked up the guts to tell her of his dream love. He often went to Bahrain with Aditi, but he carefully avoided  going to that particular parking lot.

One morning as Aditi was rearranging the wardrobe, she chanced upon the case in the top rack. She brought it down with great anticipation not knowing what it contained. She found the watch and the bottle of perfume inside. She liked the watch immensely and tried it on. But when she looked at it closely though  something seemed amiss. The watch chain looked a little old and it was not in its original box.

Aditi’s first reaction was to call her husband at work. But she felt that the matter at hand could not be resolved in a phone call, and she waited impatiently for him to come home. That evening she placed the box next to his tea on the side table.

Without saying a word she looked intently at his face to gauge his reaction.

Madhav was amused by the discreet way in which she had brought up the subject and he felt compelled to set her mind to rest.

Madhav looked hard at her and laughingly said,

'I have a very interesting story to tell you!'

He began, 'It was a hot summer afternoon some years ago…'

Aditi, listened, her fascination mounting as each earnest detail poured forth from his lips. She was filled with tenderness for him, for the fact that he was capable of so much love and that too for someone he had never actually met. She felt very lucky to have married such a wonderful human being.

'And the perfume?' she asked.

'Oh! I bought it to preserve the memory of the perfume, it had, when I first found it!' he said, sheepishly.

She looked at the watch again and felt the stirrings of a faint memory. She said excitedly,

'Madhav, wait I might actually know who the owner of the watch is!'she exclaimed.

Leaving a disconcerted Madhav on the sofa, she darted to the table and began a vigorous search of the photographs in her database.

She screamed in excitement,

'Madhav, come here at once and look at this picture!'

They both stared at the young woman, who was wearing a similar watch.

Madhav asked in all eagerness,

'Who is she, Aditi?'

'This is my cousin Daya' said Aditi.
'I was reminded of her, when I saw the watch.
I was there, when her father gave it to her on her 18th birthday ...you know...'

'The story adds up, as she lived all her life in Bahrain and this could very well be hers!'

Aditi, then narrated her life with Daya, her cousin and play mate. Daya, was the bright one in the family, and everyone was very proud of her. Her father wanted her to be a dentist, but all she ever wanted was to be a reporter. Her family was upset by her decision but she was insistent. She joined a popular television company after graduation.

Things were all right for a while, her uncle even began to like all the attention they were all getting as a result of Daya’s frequent appearances on TV. Within a few months though, Daya was deputed for an assignment covering the uprising in Egypt. Her parents were quite unhappy about sending her, but she insisted on going convincing them that her status as a reporter would grant her immunity.

Aditi broke down even as she said this, 'Daya, disappeared a week after she reached Egypt and has been missing ever since January, last year…'

A shocked Madhav asked,

'But did you not try to look for her?'

Aditi, looked at him with chagrin, 'Of course my uncle and aunt have been at it ever since, going to Egypt, contacting the embassy, even threatening to sue the television company, they have left no stone unturned!'

Aditi grew silent, eyes downcast.
She looked up suddenly, her eyes shining and said excitedly, 'You know what, the discovery of this watch, might very well be a harbinger of things to come… It will surely bring hope to my desperate uncle, let me call him immediately!'
She got up to make an emotionally charged phone call. 

Madhav, sat there staring at the picture of the lean young woman for a long time.
 While he was happy that he finally knew who the young woman was, he was plagued by misgivings that he might never actually get to meet her.