[ Short story] Strangers in the Sand

There are times in our lives where we experience encounters in the least likely of places that brings perfect strangers close as they collaborate for survival. In an instant all the barriers that divide us - such as language, religion, creed and custom are broken and we interact as human beings – we may part and go our separate ways later, but the memories are etched forever in our hearts and we carry these to our graves.

It was late afternoon as I stepped out of the car, the sun was still bright and there was a balmy breeze. I did a quick check before I locked the car – pedometer, headphones, iPod and a bottle of water. I did a bit of spot jogging and stretches before I bent down to tighten my shoe laces in readiness for the jog.

This was my routine on most weekends. I was here in the Middle East on a yearlong assignment, in the bank I worked for. My regular workday included long hours of work and indiscrete food choices. It was so easy to pile on the pounds. I had hit upon this routine, (reluctantly at first) but now I really looked forward to these moments alone with myself – alone with my thoughts, perfecting strategies as I jogged along at a slow pace listening to my favourite music.

The beaches in this part of the world are breathtaking. Everything is so tastefully and neatly laid out. The deep blue sea is abutted by a vast sandy beach. A large beautifully tiled promenade forms the third tier. Lining the promenade are landscaped gardens with luscious lawns and beyond these grassy stretches are the parking lots.

The beach usually had a large turnout in the weekends, where people came in large groups armed with grills, tents, cushions, carpets, chairs and partied in the open, till the wee hours of the morning. Children brought along their toy bikes and cars, which they rode on the promenade even as their parents watched over them from the lawns. Today, though the beach was bereft of activity except for a few people – I was surprised, but I was not unduly perturbed, as I now had the place all to myself.

It began rather imperceptibly at first… Circular waves of sand that moved inland blown by the winds from the sea- it was so beautiful to watch and quite unlike anything I had ever seen before. I was even considering taking a picture on my phone, but the sand haze intensified and I realized in that instant that I was in the midst of a sandstorm. Now, ever since I moved here, I had witnessed sand storms before- from the safety of my car of course and it usually happened in short spells, where visibility dimmed a little and the sand hissed shrilly against the tyres of the car and eddying on both sides of the road. I thought this too would be short lived and jogged on, but was puzzled by the fact that the woman jogging a little ahead turned hurriedly and began running back. I also noticed the few others scurrying to their cars after hurriedly packing up their picnic mats and baskets.

All of a sudden, I realized why… the circles of sand began to gather momentum and density and in no time the visibility around me became next to nil.

I stopped in my tracks as needle sharp sand particles pierced my skin and eyes. I couldn't breathe as sand began to enter my nostrils and I hurriedly fumbled in my pockets and covered my nose with tissue paper. Yes, I was caught in the middle of a sandstorm with absolutely no clue about how I should protect myself.

Now, I understood the reason for the sparse turnout that day. Maybe there was a warning, which I had missed. I regretted my decision to continue jogging, even after noticing the others leave. I froze in my tracks, as I could not see even a few inches ahead of me mostly from the haze and the dust in my eyes, which were now watering …

My mind was in a daze as I quickly weighed and discarded the options before me. I was not sure which way to proceed as I had lost my sense of direction. I fumbled for my phone and with head bent low and a hand uselessly covering my eyes I tried to open the compass application, but I soon realized, I had never used it in this location and so I wouldn’t be able to use the information effectively. My only option seemed to be to turn around on my heel, switch on the torch in the phone and plod along through the haze of sand, wind and fear. I even contemplated lying down flat on the ground- waiting for the storm to pass but was afraid to do so as the storm showed no signs of letting up. With my eyes nearly shut, I kept on walking slowly against the wind not even sure if I was keeping a straight line, praying not to ram into anything…

Suddenly, I thought I heard faint footsteps. I turned eagerly and called out - but my voice was lost in the wind and the sand entered my mouth. I was somewhat comforted by the bobbing light that was now advancing towards me … I was unsure of what or whom to expect – but I did feel greatly relieved!

                                  

He emerged from the haze, light from his phone bobbing through the dust.When he was close enough, I realized he had a carpet over his head, which protected him somewhat better than me from the storm – he muttered something is Arabic that I didn’t understand. He grabbed my hand and put the carpet over my head. He signaled me to squat down and I slid down slowly waiting for the ground to come up to me. We sat there in that tiny tent, barely inches from each other -- In any other time and place I would not have felt the comfort I felt now.

He was using his turban to cover his nose and he now extended it to me. I held it over my head and nose gratefully and opened my eyes a little more to see his face – but it was fully spattered with mud – he was a strange sight indeed but I was so glad that he was there.

We tried opening the mat further and creating more room for ourselves, it was herculean, but we finally managed to make a little tent for ourselves, pulling down the ends with our hands and feet to prevent the carpet from flying away. We laughed like children every time the tent threatened to lift up. We would have stayed there for what seemed like several hours, but which I later found to be three-quarters of an hour and the whirling and hurtling sounds began to die down.

The air cleared finally and we pushed the carpet away and stood up. There was dust everywhere – on the ground, on the trees on the lawns making the place totally unrecognizable. He said something to me in Arabic and began sprinting towards the parking lot and I was seized by an urge to retreat to the safety of my car, so I followed suit. Only two cars remained there, mine was closer than his, and both looked a muddy brown. I opened the car and began to clean the windows and the rear view mirrors ineffectively with facial tissue– that’s when I noticed how terrifying I looked! I hurriedly took out a bottle of water and began washing my face vigorously- to my dismay I found that there was a lot of sand in my hair (which I had only washed that morning) and my clothes. My shoes looked almost black. I turned to look for him, and found him cleaning his car. I got into the car and parked it alongside his. I got out and said the only word in Arabic that I knew-

“ Shukran! “ I said, and hoped my voice would convey my gratitude much better than my paucity of words…

I waited for him to finish and held out my hand for a handshake and he offered his grimy hand, rather hesitantly. He said “ Maa salamah,” which I knew was goodbye and signaled me gallantly to drive away first.

As I waved and drove away, I realized I didn’t even know his name, or what he did for a living. I also knew that in all likelihood I would never meet him again. But none of this mattered. I had been through a crisis, and I had shared that moment with a complete stranger, which had forged a unique bond between us. I knew that he would be an integral part of my memory of this event and that I would recall his face distinctly every time I spoke or thought of this adventure in the desert.

(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.

[Short Story] Autumn Flowers

I waited impatiently for the lift, my hands weighed down by grocery bags. It seemed to make an inordinately long halt in the fifth floor. I looked enquiringly at the watch man sitting a little away at his desk...
"New madam coming fifth floor," he said.
"Oh, the vacant flat!, but they should shift late at night or in the middle of the day!" I murmured in annoyance.

It was already 5 pm and I was having guests over for the evening. When the lift finally descended I looked menacingly at the occupant and the movers who were with her. The slight woman in a blue saree looked apologetically at me and said, "I am extremely sorry, we are almost ..." she stopped in mid sentence and I shouted,
"Malini!  Malini Vishwanath! is that really you?"
 My anger and my anxiety vanished in an instant. Malini rushed to me and gave me a warm hug. We both started talking excitedly and before I knew it, she was in my flat after hurriedly disposing off the movers.

As we hurriedly cooked together for the evening, we talked endlessly, piecing together the major events of the intervening years. I had met Malini in college and we had hit it off immediately. We spent all the breaks together and the weekends as well. She lived amongst sylvan surroundings in the outskirts and a  huge contrast to my dull apartment in the city. The weekends felt like paradise as we explored the countryside armed with a story book, singing songs, losing our way ever so often and being chided by her mother for our wild ways! We were an inseparable pair in college even though she was in a different stream. We even sat through abstruse lectures in each other's classes just to be together.  Malini exerted a great influence on me, kindling my interest in gardening and photography and helping me look at life as a dream and a celebration.

As we sat, sipping the rejuvenating cup of tea after the exertions in the kitchen, I looked at the five foot slim figure in front of me. She had not changed one bit- she wore no makeup as always and she had done nothing  to mask her greying hair. She was dressed in her characteristic simple cotton saree.
Malini gave a gentle smile and asked softly, " So how are your relatives?"
 I recoiled from the memory raked up by the question...

Marriage was something that  often came up in our talks and Malini always said-
"I will not marry, I want to become a social worker! I don't believe in living for myself! We need to give something back to society too!"
 
I did not have her conviction, brought up as I was to believe that marriage was the very purpose of a woman's existence. I was married soon after college, but much to our disappointment, Malini couldn't attend as she was away at Delhi, at a convention.

Malini on her return tried her best to make up for it. She would often come over, in the evenings to my new home with my in laws. Life for me,suddenly felt very different and strange! Marriage, is a journey of discovery where every woman learns, about becoming progressively responsible and selfless and romance is but a girlish fantasy. I would eagerly await Malini's visits as a breath of fresh air, but soon it became clear to me that the friendship was unsustainable. Malini too sensed it and while I felt  her trauma, I was in no position to comfort her.

Once when Malini, came home, there were a lot of guests. People were talking loudly and Malini said " I can't talk in this din, let's go outside for a walk."
 This remark invited a few glares in our direction and I instinctively knew that trouble was brewing. In panic I said, "Malini, How insesitive of you?
I have guests at home...
You are single, what do you know about marriage and responsibity?
You can't walk in here and demand my time.
I wish you wouldn't visit me so often, frankly its quite trying!"

 At this, Malini, left  my house, without saying a word, and disappeared completely from my life. I made no effort to follow her or look for her, for many years. But I often thought how she was and pondered in our friendship, who needed the other more. After my children were born, I gained enormous capacity to handle stress. I began to appreciate her selfless love for the first time and sense her need to be loved in turn.  Sadly, we appreciate most what we have the least!
 Oh, how often had I wished that I would run in to her some day and fate had finally granted that wish!

 I came out of my reverie and smiled broadly at Malini. I vowed, I would give her all the attention she needed this time around and never to lose her again.
In the autumn of our lives, we were once again little girls wandering in the wilderness, wild flowers all around.