Idle Cinema Musings #3 – Satyakam

SATYAKAM: (1969):Cast: Dharmendra, Sharmila Tagore, Sanjeev Kumar, Asrani, Robi Ghosh, Tarun Bose, Ashok Kumar.

Directed by: Hrishikesh Mukherjee


To me personally, Satyakam is quite simply Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s best film. I have lost count of the number of times I have seen this film. However what amazes me is how little most of us take from this film, in terms of its cinematic content and character development. To a vast majority of its viewers (me included till recently) Satyakam is about the honest upright refusing-to-bend/compromise lead character in the film i.e. Satya Priya (Dharmendra in the performance of a lifetime).
However it is only now after having seen the film so many times over, do I realise that Satyakam actually works not because Dharmendra is shown as a super-strong, morally upright human being who refuses to budge in spite of difficulties. I now feel that Satyakam is an honest portrayal of the weaknesses and failures of a man who refuses to budge. And when I say honest, I mean it is so well depicted and well made that we actually feel for the protagonist despite his many short-comings (yes he has many….which in fact make him human and thus indentifiable and lovable)
There is a line spoken in the film by Naren (Sanjeev Kumar in an equally superb performance, unfairly overlooked because of Dharam’s tour-de-force performance) tells Sat, “too much of everything is bad”. This probably sums up the entire movie. Satyapriya in his effort to remain honest and corruption-free doesn’t realise when he himself has become rigid inflexible and dogmatic. He refuses to see any other way out even when it means suffering and disaster for his own family.
Sat’s honesty (and indeed weakness) comes to the fore when he initially refuses to marry Ranjana (Sharmila, delightful dignified and dramatic all at once). His hesitation in accepting a proposal from Ranjana actually indirectly is the cause for to be dishonouored and it is only after this incident that he agrees to marry her. A bold step, a great decision no doubt, but also perhaps a sign of attempting to lessen his own guilt of being partly responsible for Ranjana’s plight.
During the course of the film we also discover that there is a complete absence of any physical intimacy between Sat and Ranjana, much against Ranjana’s wishes. From the beginning we know, Ranjana loves Sat. She is willing to be his wife in the true sense of the word, but it is Sat’s inability to forget her past that acts as a barrier between couple, physically. Sat comes up with a lame, “Main tumhe baaki har khushi deta hoon na”…..to hide his inability to forget her past.
Sat’s righteousness is evident when he suspends one of his subordinates for accepting a bribe. This is what he does best. Any signal of corruption and moral weakness is squashed by Sat without batting an eyelid. He stands for truth and morality as effortlessly as he breathes. It is like oxygen for him. However his weakness comes to the forefront once again when he is confronted by the wife of the suspended officer, who shows him the “reason” why he accepted the bribe (their child lying untreated, without any medical help). Instead of helping the couple, Sat tears up the suspension order and himself resigns from his post, citing his inability to do anything to change the system and help them, being the reason for his resignation. Sat’s intentions are never at any doubt, but his weaknesses all too often, come hand in hand with his strength.
Sat’s refusal to go and have a cup of tea with Naren, because it is his duty hour, is another classic example of the rigidity of his character. Surely, with his house being located just above the office, a cup of tea with his old friend (and current Boss nonetheless) wouldn’t have harmed anyone.
Surreptitiously, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, bares all his weaknesses to us, but such is the power of his truth and the strength of his moral values, that we tend to gloss over them or perhaps not realise them as weaknesses at all.
In the end when Sat is diagnosed with a terminal illness, he passes on his virtues and values to Ranjana. He knows he cannot help them financially, but yet refuses to part with his ideals and his beliefs. He hopes somewhere in his heart that Naren will do the needful after him, but while hoping for that, isn’t he also aware that morally and ethically Naren is different from him and more ‘wordly”? Surely Sat knows this, but…
In the climax Sat signs a piece of document (which is very important tothe plot progression) which Ranjana never expected him to sign. It stands for everything he was always against. But the moment she sees his weak smile when she tears up the document, she realises that Sat knew all along that she would do such. Its perhaps the single most tragic scene in the film, where it is impossible to decide who is on a higher moral ground here, Sat or Ranjana.
My last viewing of Satyakam made me look at the character of the protagonist in a totally new light. It is the story of a very human man. A man who is strong and frail almost at the same time. A man who stands for morality and is yet almost simultaneously unfair and unjust to people he loves. A man whose strength becomes his weakness, resulting in spectacular failure.
Perhaps it is this constant struggle between right and wrong, moral and immoral, just and unjust, and a simple man’s resolve to live life on his own principles and terms, is what makes the character of Satyapriya so endearing to us and the film such an appealing one.

Valentine’s Day

He waited at the canteen foyer for her to finish her class and come down. As usual he had bunked a couple of his lectures and was waiting for her to arrive. She, unlike him, was regular with her classes and hardly missed any. So he waited, listening to Solitary Man by Neil Diamond on his Walkman.

It was a busy day in college. Every Valentine’s Day usually was. It was a day when all the different categories of lovers would come alive and the college would transform into a sickly stage of puppy love, adolescent romance, teenage romp…however one wished to describe it. Girls with roses, cards, shiny gift-wrapped boxes or soft toys in their hands had that air of superiority about them over the girls who didn’t have any such “symbol of love”. Guys were following their respective “girl of dreams”. And sometimes others’ girl of dreams just in case they didn’t quite make it with their own. It was a busy day in college.

She finally came in to the canteen. However he hadn’t heard any class bell ring so obviously she hadn’t come down from one of her lectures. He was surprised to see that she had a guy walking along side her. The fellow had a grin on his face that instantaneously irritated him. She walked up to him and said, “Hold this bag for me please, will you, I’ll just be back” and saying that, she went with the guy towards the woods.

The woods were just a cluster of trees bunched together, adjacent to the canteen. It was a breeding ground for romance. Every pair of any worth in college would take trips to the woods, whispering sweet nothings etc. it was the place to be, if you were a couple in college. He was seething from inside to see her with him taking rounds of the woods.

She was smiling as they walked. Sometimes she even laughed. Her hair bounced away whenever she did so. He loved her even more when she laughed. But today was different. Why was she with him, in the woods…laughing? The songs on his Walkman flowed from Red Red Wine to Shilo to Song Sung Blue. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t even listening to them, as his heart pounded away preparing himself for the worst.

After what seemed ages (fifteen minutes actually) she walked back towards the canteen. The fellow was not to be seen. She came and sat next to him. He took a deep breath and pulled the earphones off his ears.

“You know he wanted to give me a valentine day card. Can you believe his cheek and audacity? Just because I smiled at his corny jokes once or twice? I burst out laughing”, she said. The words sounded like honey to him. “Get me a coffee please”, she said adjusting herself properly on the canteen pillars. “Sure I will”, he replied, suddenly discovering a new vigour in his voice and a spring in his steps. “Just get my bag will you, there’s something inside for you”, he said, as he got up to get her coffee.

“A valentine day card for me?” she smiled in anticipation looking at him in a manner that made him go weak in his knees. He smiled at her as he walked to get her coffee.

As he reached the coffee counter he turned back at the canteen to see her reading his hand-made card and smiling. He hoped she didn’t find the mixed tape he’d made for her. He wanted to give that to her himself. He was smiling to himself thinking of how he felt when he saw her with that guy in the woods.

He felt calmer and more in control now.

He loved Valentine’s Day this year.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Anniversary Wishes

He watched her knit with her trembling hands, sitting in front of the tv. When she watched the tv she stopped knitting. And then she would focus back on her knitting and forget the tv. This went on for a while.

He arranged the table for a dinner for two he was specially planning for the day. Their 30th wedding anniversary. The night had to be different from their usual TV dinners on trays. It had been ages since they’d sat on the dining table and had a meal.

She was knitting away as she asked, “where’s my dinner, am hungry”. She was usually soft spoken, but her raised voice made him look up from the table he was setting. “Just a few minutes more honey,” he said adjusting the candle stand in the middle of the table.

“It’s our anniversary today you know,” he reminded her. He knew her Alzheimer’s was rapidly progressing and he wasn’t surprised the day had slipped past her. She turned around to look at him and all he saw was a blank vacant face staring at him. Her brown eyes had lost the twinkle of those early days and now the sad eyes looked at him expressionless. He smiled at her as he mouthed a kiss towards her, getting the table ready. She turned back and continued knitting.

Once he completed the table, he walked up to her and in a waltzing manner took her hand as he led her towards the table. She looked at him with her surprised eyes. He still looked handsome to her, despite his thinning hair and wrinkled skin. She placed her hand spontaneously on his shoulder, as he led her to the dining table.

She looked in awe as he made her sit on her spot at the dining table. The spread on the table was impressive. He had neatly synchronised the dinner plates and soup bowls and even taken out fresh napkins and mats. She looked around the table to find grilled chicken and sautéed vegetables and potato&leek soup. There was an assortment of bread and cheese too.

“What’s today”, she asked him as she continued staring at the spread on the table.

“It’s our anniv…”, he was answering, when he was stopped mid sentence by her again.

“What’s the date today? Which day is it?”

“It’s Thursday the 6th,” he sighed. Despite adjusting with her illness there were times he felt defeated and tired.

She got off the table with a “I’ll just be back” look to him. He kept sitting at the table fidgeting with his fork, his head bowed down.

The gentle strains of the ukelele surprised him as he got up with a start. He looked up to see her standing in front of him playing the instrument with her fragile trembling hands. As she mouthed some of the words from Love Me Tender, he found the tears streaming down his cheeks. He dropped the fork on the table as he kept staring at her beautiful face as she sang and hummed for him, smiling her angelic smile at him all the while. Like always, she looked more beautiful when she was singing.

He got up from his chair and went up to her and took her in his arms. She looked up at him and whispered “Happy anniversary darling. Did you forget the day today?”

He kissed her and then hugged her tight and said “no my darling how could I”.

“I hope you’ve made my favourite soup and chicken then,” she said as she sat down after ages on the dining table.

Copyright (C) Pratik Majumdar

Old Ties

“Honey I’m home”

“Great. Will warm up dinner now”

“Can’t wait to try the roast.”

“Just hop on in and it’ll be on the table.”

It had been over fifteen minutes since they’d spoken on the phone. And yet he waited for her to come in. She didn’t.

A couple of hours later the cops were all around the house and the garage. Where her car stood parked. And she lay dead inside. Strangled by his silk tie.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Just a while ago he was the happiest man in the world waiting for his wife to return home from work. And he had cooked a special meal for the two of them. After all it was their anniversary. And now he was busy answering the cops.

They had been married for 7 years now. He had once been a successful advertising executive and she an equally successful lawyer. Over the course of their marriage their respective lives had had different progress. She had zoomed up the career ladder whilst he sat redundant at home after his firm had shut down thanks to the economic meltdown.

As time went by she went by she began to spend incredibly long hours away from home. “It’s a new case honey”, she told him every time he enquired with her. “My client is accused of murdering his wife and I have to prove his innocence. You know how it is, honey. The husband is always the prime suspect”. The more she spoke about the case the worse he felt for her client. The golden haired man as she referred to him as.

“This doesn’t make sense does it”, the Inspector wondered to himself as he went through the dead woman’s credit card details. Of all the purchases she had made over a period of around a year she had bought double of almost every item she purchased. It didn’t take him long to figure that they were all “male items”.

“She was obviously having an affair. So whenever she bought something for her lover, her guilt would make her buy an identical one for her husband. The unemployed poor soul waiting for her at home.” The Inspector was talking loudly to himself, almost sure he would nab her killer soon.

The golden haired man sat in front of the television watching the news. After all she was a well known defence lawyer and her murder was prime time news. There were different theories coming up about her death. A possible killing due to her coming close to concluding a case was one of the given motives. This suited him fine, he reasoned to himself.

“The husband is always the prime suspect”. The golden haired man laughed as the TV reporter made this comment whilst covering her news. It had been ridiculously easy for him. He was angry when she refused to leave her husband. Worse, she was all set to confess to him about her affair. She wanted forgiveness and go back to him. That loser. That unemployed waster who did nothing but sit at home and cook for her. She was willing to let go of the beautiful one year they had spent and go back to her husband. And the cheek of her to tell him that the baby wasn’t theirs. But a result of her infidelity. Surely it was too much for him to hear. She had to go.

Killing her actually was easier than he had thought it would be. He had managed to sneak in their house in the afternoon when her husband was out to the pub for a pint. Waiting at the garage for her to come and park her car was the plan. Waiting there with the identical tie as his, from her husband’s wardrobe was the master stroke. He waited patiently as she spoke to her husband on the phone. And then he sneaked behind her as his gloved hands strangled her with her husband’s tie. Putting her back on her car seat and closing the door was cakewalk.

A week later, the golden haired man picked up the newspaper as he was having his breakfast. HUSBAND ARRESTED. LAWYER’S MURDER SOLVED screamed the headlines. After all who else could’ve killed a successful young career woman but her useless unemployed husband. And that too with his own tie. It was an open and shut case as the police confirmed.

The man finished his breakfast and headed towards his car. His new lawyer called him on his mobile phone as he was driving. “I have good news from my inside sources. The verdict today will be in our favour”.

The golden haired man stepped up on the accelerator as he began humming an old rock and roll tune. The sun shone brightly as the red sports car found its way through the city traffic that summer morning.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

The Coffee Shop

He played along with a spoon, sitting alone by the corner table. Using the spoon as an imaginary drum stick he played along, listening to the Smokie song from his playlist. Like always, he was waiting for her.

“Happy Anniversary my darling.” he whispered softly to no one there.

They made a beautiful couple. Everyone thought so. And he felt it himself too. They did make a beautiful pair. He fell in love with her the day he saw for the first time at the library. She was returning a Philip Larkin Anthology and he was paying a late fee fine for his Ted Hughes Collection. One look at her hazel eyes and he was floored. There was a sweet perfume around the air she walked. Her wavy streaked hair softly bounced as she walked away, looking at him smilingly as she went. He kept holding on to the Ted Hughes open mouthed. Staring at her till she was out of sight.

Their courtship was as whirlwind as it could be. He could be charming when he wanted to be and he charmed the life out of her. He swept her off her feet and soon they were a couple everyone was talking about.

The waiter came and kept his cappuccino in front of him and the espresso for her. He didn’t say anything to him but interchanged the cups as he left. The espresso was his and the cappuccino hers. He kept playing with the spoon as he looked at the empty chair on the side of the cappuccino cup. “She will come, I know she will,” he reassured himself.

Their marriage happened all of a sudden. One day as they walked together after a romantic dinner the rains came all of a sudden. They both ran, holding hands, as they took shelter under the arched building by the street. It was the library where they had met for the first time.

“Will you marry me? ”he said looking right into her eyes, still panting from the running.

“What?”

“Marry me, please.”

“Ohh you know.”

“What?”

“I said yes.”

It was a quick and sudden marriage. Too sudden for some of their close friends who couldn’t make it in time for the big day. But there was a lot of flowers cakes champagne and laughter that day. Everyone was happy. The world seemed a sunny place that day.

The rain kept falling steadily as he looked outside the window of the coffee shop. “Maybe this is delaying her,” he thought as his eyes looked at the washed out streets outside. He hadn’t touched his espresso.

The trouble started after the first few months. The gap between their expectations and reality widened rapidly. Communication was at a premium as they both slipped into their respective silent hells. Their silence fought battles with each other when a word of understanding or care could have made things different. They didn’t.

Eventually the separation too came rapidly. Just like their courtship and marriage.

“This cannot be the end,” he tried to tell her.

“This cannot happen to us”

But they couldn’t deny reality. They had to part their ways and knew it would be hard on both of them.

“Let’s meet whenever we feel we can get over the past,” they promised each other.

It was six years now and the attempt at forgetting the past still seemed futile.

Like every year, he waited for some more time. Hoping. Expecting. Praying. But she didn’t come. Like the previous years he left the money on the table along with two untouched cups. He left the single red rose he would bring every year for her on the table. He walked away from the table with a heart slightly heavier than the previous year.

And like every year, she stood by the side of the coffee shop as she watched him walk out and walk into the streets till he got lost in the crowd. Like every previous year she didn’t have the strength to overcome the past and enter the coffee shop.

“Happy anniversary darling,” she whispered softly as she wiped her face and turned away.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Blue Moon

You can throw away things

You can throw away the person

You cant throw away the memories

Strains of Dean Martin’s Blue Moon wafted across the air, as he sat by himself on the bench by the lake. He could hear his family laugh and make merry in the cottage nearby. He excused himself from the family dinner to be by himself for a while. Blue Moon always reminded him of her.

He took his wallet out of his pocket and very carefully removed a folded piece of paper that looked old and delicate. The folds were really old and tear marks appeared along the folds. Gingerly he opened the piece of paper and placed it on his thighs. He stared in to the waters as he recited the contents of the note without looking at it even once. When he was done, he gently folded the paper in its original form and placed it carefully inside his wallet.

“You didn’t tell me you were married !!”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“That’s your excuse? I thought you’d come up with a better one, you creep !!!”

“I really don’t wanna lose you !!!”

HIs thoughts went back to the fateful day when his cover was finally blown. He had successfully hidden it from her for over two years but finally he was caught. To say that she was upset when she found out would be an understatement. She slapped him incessantly across his face in her anger before throwing herself on his chest and crying. He tried to console her, make her understand, but nothing he did at the time mattered. This was a betrayal of the highest kind, as far she was concerned, and there would no looking back after this.

“I want to talk to her, tell her everything about you. She must know who she is married to.”

“Please listen to me baby, let me explain to you. Then you are free to do whatever you like.”

He knew the effort it took him to calm her down that evening. How he managed to drag her from the restaurant to the hotel room, in order to avoid a public scene, only he knew.

“My wife…she’s been paralysed for the last 7 years and a manic depressive at that. Only I know how I deal with her. When I met you I felt I finally found solace some meaning in my life, but yes, maybe I should have been honest with you upfront. I’m willing to pay the price now.”

It was the oldest trick in the world but it worked. Like a charm. She grew closer to him. Her guilt at her anger on him, resulted in more love and affection than he could imagine. He told her to write down all she was feeling, just her emotions on a piece of paper. She ranted her unhappiness out on that paper.

“I feel a lot lighter”, she said as she hugged him.

“I knew this would make you feel better honey”, he reassured her as he hugged her back.

He knew he had to let her go now. He had managed to cool things off for the time being but there was always the danger that one day she would find out the whole thing. He couldn’t take the chance,

It was a winter’s evening a couple of weeks later that they met again. By the lake. They sat in her car and drank till they were both tipsy. She had dozed off in the driver’s seat. He carefully removed all traces of his fingerprints from the car. His gloved hand gently placed the vodka bottle on the passenger’s seat. The arsenic laced ice cube had done its trick. He gently placed the note she had handwritten a couple of weeks ago inside her pocket, as he gently began pushing the car towards the lake. Even if the cops got a washed out version of it, that would suffice. He had kept a photocopy of the letter in his wallet too.

As he walked away from the lake that evening, he heard the car in neutral finally find its way into the waters. He had to walk a couple of miles before he got a cab. He had left his phone in flight mode in his office. He knew mobile networks could be traced to the exact location.

He read the news the next day in the papers. Both he and his wife expressed shock on the news. After all they knew her socially.

“She was way too lonely. No family, no friends. Just an oddball.”

He kept quiet and nodded a yes as he sipped on his coffee, turning the page to the sports section.

“Maybe its time I let her go completely”, he thought to himself as he got up from the bench by the lake. He removed the folded piece of paper once more his wallet and tore it up in small pieces, he flung the bits to the water and turned his back on the water and walked away. Just as he had done that winter’s night.

He was walking towards the cottage to have a dance with his wife, as he hummed Blue Moon to himself.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Orange Moon 2.0

(This is a follow-up to my earlier short story Orange Moon which can be found here at https://wordpress.com/block-editor/post/idlemusings.art.blog/78

Will I See You Tonight

On a Downtown Train

Every Night, It’s Just The Same,

On a Downtown Train

Rod Stewart, Downtown Train.

The mall was as crowded as it was expected to be on a Friday night. He was sitting by himself on one of the tables at the food court with a laptop. He needed to finish his story and contrary to most writers, he thrived in such crowded places to concentrate and write. He had his headphones on and was typing away effortlessly as the words kept flowing out. He only took a break from typing as one song ended and looked up to survey the manic mall madness that happened all around him. As Van Morrison sang Tupelo Honey, his eyes went back to the laptop to continue. 

His writing was interrupted again by a familiar whiff. He turned around to see where it came from. And then he saw. Walking past him and sitting on the table across.

It was her. It was Maryam. 

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He was seeing her again after nearly 12 years. That beautiful face. Those almond eyes twinkling away, her auburn wavy hair bouncing as she walked past him and sat. And that smile. Which still could light up the entire food court. He had to pinch himself to know it was real.

His mind raced back to those days in his old town. Of the days when he’d go running to the music shop in the neighbourhood to buy cassettes. Just an excuse to see her. He never listened to music those days but kept on buying cassettes to be able to meet her at the store. He remembered his heartbreak the day he found out she’d left town. And the bigger heartbreak at his discovery of those messages she’d written to him on the cassettes. His thoughts came rushing back to him at that instance.

He kept looking at her almost as if a trance. She had aged but so beautifully. And her smile made her look younger maybe. She was wearing a white chikan salwar-kurta with chunky oxidised jewellery around her neck and matching bangles. He couldn’t see a ring on her finger. He was about to get up and walk across to her when something stopped him.

Two children aged similarly around 7-8 came rushing towards her table. They each had ice cream in their hands which they were offering her. “Take mine”, “No, mine”, they both hollered, as if in a competition. She smiled at them ruffling their hair, and took a bite from the younger one’s cone. Both the children sat next to her, hugging her from each side. A moment later, a tall bespectacled man, around his own age, came and sat opposite her, carrying a tray full of food. They all started eating together.

He sat down on his chair, unable to turn his eye away from that table. The heartbreak he had forgotten for all these years, came back to him in a new form. At the back of his mind, he’d even practised how he’d behave if he ever bumped into her. He knew the chances were minimal of that happening. But even then, who knew, maybe…

He had stopped typing now. He felt as if there was a corkscrew up his heart, just like Dylan had once sung. He felt a strange mix of exhilaration and disappointment. How could I expect her to be single after so many years, he tried to reason to himself. This had to happen.

He could hardly type a line from then on. From time to time he’d look sideways at the table across and see them. The happy family enjoying an evening out. He didn’t know if he felt happy or sad seeing her this way. Part of him wished he hadnt seen her at all. 

As Van Morrison crooned Crazy Love on his headphones, he saw them get up. The younger of the two children had dozed off and she was carrying him on her lap. The elder one held the fingers of the man as they walked away from the table. There she was, walking away from his life yet again. Again no word was spoken. After all these years. He just didn’t know how to react. An old twinge from the past came and knocked at his heart all over again. Why? Why? He asked himself. He knew there’d be no answers. 

His eyes went back on the table as they left. He noticed a small packet had been left behind. He jumped from his table to reach there before someone else occupied the table. He had to return the packet to them. Maybe she would see him and maybe even recognise him, he thought. He picked up the packet on reaching the table and in his excitement it fell from his hand. He bent down to pick it up and froze. 

Peeping out of the packet was a Rod Stewart CD. 

His heart was beating like a freight train. His mind confused with a million thoughts, as he slowly took the CD out of the packet. There was a small note with a familiar handwriting.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you at the mall today. Typing away earnestly. I thanked someone up there for making me see you after all these years. Am in town to be with my brother and his children for a few days. I hope you get this note and call me. My number is…”

As he stepped out of the mall with his laptop bag slung across his shoulders he noticed there was a skip in his steps. He felt a happiness inside which he could not describe. He had read and heard about miracles occurring. It’s just that when it happened with him, he was numb with happiness to feel it. 

He looked up at the sky and smiled at the orange moon. He was humming Downtown Train as he took out his mobile to make that call…

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

LOST…

Jim Reeves played on in the background. The winter breeze blew all along, reminding him of the time of the year. The time inexplicably made him blue. Christmas carols, fruit cakes and pies, turkey meals and candies…that inevitable bluesy feeling. This year, he felt a change was needed…

He put on his parka and beanie and stepped out. The wind slashed through his face like a cold knife, cutting him all the time with marked precision. He shut his eyes, his hands in his pockets as a little shiver ran across his body. He quickened his pace, all the time not knowing where he was headed. The streets were brightly lit up all around. Red and green lights dazzled all around. Santa and his reindeers and mistletoes and trees and other decorations gave such a happy look to the entire place.

He walked alongside the pier, his body now gradually getting used to the wind and cold. He was enjoying it now. He blew out smokes and loved watching those steam circles. He felt young again, almost like a child as he blew in rapid succession trying to get the perfect circle. The pier was empty with hardly a soul there. It was usually packed on weekends with people, families, couples and youngsters thronging the place, Vendors selling their merchandise and ice cream trucks and hotdog stalls. Today however the place had none of these. Everyone was home celebrating with families. He was perhaps the only soul hanging around there that evening. Somehow he felt a strange kind of peace within him, being there at that time. He wiped the snow off one of the seats by the river and sat down. He took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them to generate some heat. His eyes were fixed on the glistening waters. The lights gave them a lovely sparkle. He broke into a smile almost instantaneously as he stared blankly into the waters.

She took her hand off her parka and placed it on his hands, resting her head on his shoulders. He put his arm around her, pulling her close to him. They both sighed almost simultaneously and then kissed.  

The six friends laughed loudly and cheered as he struggled with the champagne bottle, trying to open it with a pop. And when he finally managed to do it, the cheers got louder.

The little child played along with his toy reindeer as they sat on the bench, watching him with a mix of pride and joy in their eyes. He was just four and so incredibly adorable.

 He yanked his hands off hers. He was seething and didn’t care what she had to say. He didn’t know when he stopped listening to her and had gotten off and walked away.

Memories played inside his head almost like a movie, with each scene appearing in front of his eyes vividly. He sat there by the pier on the same bench as his subconscious played along, almost despite him. Even the trickle from his eye that found its way out seemed to have a mind of its own. He just sat there, gazing at the waters, as all that he had lost flashed across his senses

The moon was up and above, shining brightly, brighter than the city lights.

He didn’t know for long the lights dazzled and sparkled that night. The strains of laughter, cheers and carols floated cross the air for long in the night. When they stopped and when the moon went down he didn’t know. His lifeless body rested on that pier bench that dawn. Just as lost as he had felt earlier the previous evening.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse.


It was the second thing he had seen that day which reminded him of her. First, there were those gorgeous eclairs nonchalantly left on the dining table. And now this.


It was odd that he found two things that reminded him of her in a spate of 24 hours.


He found the envelope, tucked inside the Virginia Woolf book. It was her favourite book, he remembered. But he had never noticed either the book or the envelope before. He saw it today as he was cleaning up and rearranging his book shelf. There were too many books and he knew he had to get rid of some of them. Ms Wolfe’s masterpiece was one such book. He never cared much for her writing. And it reminded him of her anyway.


He got off from the short stool he was perched up on cleaning the books. He put his glasses on as he gently opened the envelope. The paper was crusty with time so he had to be careful whilst opening it. There was a small note inside, in that familiar handwriting he recognised instantly.


You…someone who is at once the closest part of myself and yet miles apart from me despite being under the same roof. Our love has seen many springs and many winters but now it seems autumn is setting in. I can’t seem to enter into your heart anymore. There is a wall, a barrier that has developed. Little moments of silence, like bricks of non-communication and cement chunks of mistrust has crept in making this wall unbreakable. I have tried to remove it, prevent it from coming up but have failed. Did you even try? Or did you willingly allow this to come up between us? I don’t know. Maybe I will never know. Although at every point of my life I wish I did know. I remember the times when we…


He didn’t know when those tears found their way out of his eyes and dribbled past the thick glasses down his cheeks. He kept the note on the side of the sofa he was sitting on. He arched his head back and shut his eyes for some time. His entire life flashbacked in front of his closed eyes. His sophomore years when he first met her. The time when they fell in love. When they decided to start a life together. Their highs. And their lows. The love. The fights. The disagreements. The distance. And the eventual separation.


He got up from his sofa and stared out the French window. It was nearly three years since they had parted. And like most partings, it had not been a happy one. In their happier times they would even joke about these things. “If we ever get fed up of each other we must give each other at least 3 years before we move on with life. I think that much time is deserved, don’t you think so”, she laughed as she said this, burying her face in his chest. His usual response would be to hug her tighter and kiss her on her forehead. “Why on earth would we want to separate?” That was a question he had learnt not to ask. He knew he had to play along this “little joke” of hers.


He kept the Virginia Woolf back in the book shelf and began to think. “How did the book make an inexplicable appearance in his collection?” He knew almost all the books he had on shelf. And because it such a favourite book of hers he would’ve certainly noticed it earlier. Something about the whole thing intrigued him. Made him think. He called his maid and asked her if “memsaab” had come over to the house in his absence. She couldn’t seem to remember. And then she said that one day while coming to work she “thought” she saw memsaab “driving away in a terrible hurry from the building”.


He looked at his maid with eyes that twinkled happiness after ages. “Thank you thank you thank you” he kept on repeating as he held her shoulders and shook her repeatedly. She stared back at him in disbelief, surprised at his unusual behaviour.

He let go off his maid and frantically dialled her number from his mobile. The voice at the other end was a calm and composed one.


“You finally called. Glad you found it on time. It would have been over three years next week and then….” she smiled looking at a picture of the two of them in front of her desk. She looked upwards and mouthed a silent “thank you” as she kept the phone down, her face mirroring a happiness that was similar to his.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar

The Proposal

They were sitting on the rooftop of his flat, the view of the city traffic from five floors above was a fascinating one. They watched the cars move almost like in a silent film. The sound was minimal at that height. They sat with their feet dangling from the parapet, hands entwined, a glass of wine on each side of them. Their silence that evening was blissful. 

After a while she rested her head on his shoulders, her eyes shut. He felt nice and snug too, although by now he was itching to go down. The thought of the two of them, both a few glasses down, sitting on the parapet, was making him a tad uneasy. The neons around the city came on at that instance, coinciding with the goodbye of the evening sun. 

He had been waiting for this moment for a while now. Maybe a little over six months. How does one propose? Where? When? Why? Of all these questions the only answer he had was to the last one. He knew she was the one. After nearly half a dozen broken relationships he finally met his dream woman. The one he wanted to wake up in the morning with, for the rest of his life. They had been together for just about a year but it was enough for him to be sure. How to go about it, was the tricky complicated bit. 

He loved the smell of her hair as she perched herself a little more snugly on to him. He put his arms across her bringing her closer to him. She sighed and murmured something and he saw a slight smile of satisfaction run across her closed lips. 

He didn’t want to shift an inch at that instance. They were perfectly poised on the roof that summer evening. 

“How do I? How? How?” He kept wondering. As always he had a hundred plans hovering around his head regarding how to go about it. Maybe a trip to Paris and then as they walked across the Shakespeare Book Shop, he could pop the question. Or maybe while walking by the embankment in London, holding hands looking into her eyes. On his knees with a ring in his hand, in a remote Greek island seemed like a great idea to him too. Then of course a cursory glance at his bank balance changed all that. His apartment rooftop and cheap port. That sounded perfect. 

His thoughts made him smile and he gave her a slight squeeze. She stirred a bit and then looked up at him. Her brown eyes half-closed half-opened, her hair slightly ruffled and that smile a bit broader across her luscious lips. Her eyes were twinkling as she looked  at him. The city was lit up and appeared brighter when she smiled. The noise of the evening home-going traffic had increased significantly. He kept staring at her beautiful face as the surrounding neons gave it an ethereal glow. 

“Will you marry me?” he asked simply.

She kept looking at him, smiling. He was beginning to get tensed as he had expected a quicker response from her. 

She looked at him for what seemed like ages and finally replied. 

“What?”

Now there are some definite answers and some expected answers one guesses to a proposal. “What” certainly isn’t one of them. 

He kept looking at her not knowing what to say. She smiled at him and said “I’m way too buzzed now, so you have to speak up louder honey”. She rested her head on his shoulders once more, this time putting her arms around his neck for support. 

He kept looking at the evening cityscape all lit up and glowing. He got off the parapet carrying her in his arms. She snuggled more comfortably in his lap as he began to climb down the stairs to get to his apartment. 

The proposal? 

He knew he had to wait for some more time before he could muster up the courage or plan the right time. Again. 

“And no port next time”, he promised himself as he gently lay her down on the bed. 

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar