Nothing goes away forever

Something is always left behind

Ed Jonson

I’m sorry, he blurted out as he absent-mindedly bumped into the girl walking from the other side of the cafe. They collided and his tea spilled on to her dress. Why don’t you see where you’re going, she yelled, the hot tea scalding her delicate skin from underneath her dress. Her lovely almond eyes sparkled as they looked at him in anger. He kept looking at her… transfixed. Her delicate porcelain skin, those magnetic sparkling eyes and the bouncy wavy auburn hair which covered her beautiful oval face partially. He just couldn’t take his eyes off her. Or the smile off his lips.

That was their first meeting

There were white streaks in her hair which he couldn’t help but notice now. The eyes still twinkled behind the thin rimmed oval frames she now wore. The sparkle hadn’t reduced a bit in all these years. And that smile. It still lit a million suns inside him. He kept staring at her as she played absent-mindedly with her car keys.

Are you nervous being here, he asked, breaking what seemed like a long silence.

Not at all. Surprised actually…with myself, for picking up your call, she said, looking up at him for the first time that evening.

His face had aged considerably over these last 14 years. His once-curly hair had straightened out and thinned a lot. Streaks of white around his sideburns had grown larger in full patches of white all over his head. His contacts had given way to dark thick-rimmed glasses. Crow nests around his eyes could still be seen despite the thick glasses. His penchant for denims and checks however had yet not gone. He still loved wearing them.

I never thought you’d call and that I’d pick up, she said, smiling that smile of hers. He felt a blood-rush all across his face even after all these years. He smiled back silently.

His green tea and her espresso remained untouched. Just like the cheese straws and pastries. They lay still on the table just like time seemed to stand still. It was a precious moment for both of them.

I would have called you earlier. But you were off to Germany and I didn’t have your number. My number hadn’t changed. You could’ve still called. His argument seemed futile even as the words came out of his lips.

After the way we ended I never expected any of us to get in touch with another, she said, picking up a cheese straw from the table, her gaze fixed on it.

I thought you would call once you’d cooled down. If nothing else at least to know the truth. Surely I owed you that much, he almost sounded pleading as he said this.

Forget it. Let’s not…her words were interrupted by the song that played from the jukebox. Of all the places they visited in their college days this cafe was the only pne which still had its original jukebox intact and working. Her eyes sparkled as Ben E King’s Stand By Me played from the vintage box.

It’s our song, her voice sounded like the old days, the excitement evident in her tone. She had half gotten up from her chair spontaneously and she settled down again. Slightly embarrassed at this unabashed show of emotion. His head was down as he silently smiled.

The cafe seemed transported back to a decade and a half ago. To happier times. When complications were absent and love was all around. As the two ex lovers reminisced their lost times, the entire universe around them seemed to move back a couple of steps to give them the space and privacy they needed. There was magic in the air. Again.

You know there’s a saying which says:

Nothing goes away forever

Something is always left behind

He smiled proudly at her as he said this.

Is it by the ‘famous’ Ed Jonson. She laughed loud as she said this.

Oh well yes he replied…slightly embarrassed at her memory. She had not forgotten how he ascribed every quote made by him to ‘Ed Jonson’. He looked at her sheepishly.

You know I always loved his quotes, but I loved him more, she said as she stretched her hands across the table to hold his for the first time that evening. He felt an electric current tingle down his entire body as her hands touched his.

Her phone beeped loudly, making her yank her hand off his almost instinctively. He was surprised by her action but controlled his thoughts and didn’t say anything.

I’m…I’m sorry…she said with a genuine apologetic look which he recognised well enough. That was usually her look when she’d disturb him from his reading or writing back in those days. She put her hands back on his.

I need to go, she finally said. He doesn’t like me being in touch with you after all that happened between us. He made me promise I’d never see you again. But I had to come back this once. I couldn’t tell you this on the phone when you called. Her hands pressed on his as her words came out.

He kept staring at her beautiful face as she spoke. He was hearing what she was saying but perhaps not listening. They were a dead story in any case and maybe this was the one final nail in the coffin. His mind juggled with a million memories of her as their hands remained entwined on the cafe table. He noticed her eyes fill up as she spoke. His own were holding up well enough surprisingly.

She said quite a bit more which he couldn’t hear properly. His mind was clouded as echoes of their memories played louder in his head than the music at the cafe. She got up to leave.

He looked at her, still sitting on the chair. She bent down slightly to give him a final hug. His in return, was an awkward one. He loved the familiarity of her perfume. He took a deep breath as they embraced.

He kept sitting on the chair staring blankly at the untouched espresso and snacks on the table. The jukebox was now playing Cat Steven’s Wild World. He remembered how they always fought over that song. He preferred this version whereas she liked the cover by Mr Big more. His lips broke into a wry smile which contrasted the dampness in his eyes which couldn’t be hidden by those thick-rimmed glasses.

As he was about to get up from his chair he noticed something left on her chair. It looked like a very tiny diary. A pocket sized one. He opened it to find the words “Ed Josnson’s Quotes” written in bold. He kept turning the pages to find each and every one of his “quotes” which he loved using on her. There were dates and time mentioned under every quote.

He kept looking at the tiny diary for God knows how long before he turned around to see if she had indeed gone. All he saw outside was the regular traffic of the city. A stream of endless people going about their daily routine.

He shut the diary and put it in his pocket. He knew there was to be a new entry made in it with the current date and time:

Nothing goes away forever

Something is always left behind

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2021. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

She strummed on her guitar as the gentle waves softly kissed her bare feet. Every touch of water took her to a different world altogether as she softly sang her song that night. The waves were like her only audience and the lone silver moon far away like a silent, distant admirer. A single ponytail gave a semblance of order to her usually wavy, chestnut hair. Her glasses were raised above on her forehead as always when she sung. She kept singing one song after another that evening.

As the tides were receding the waves stopped touching her after a while. She stepped down from the rock she was perched on and went and sat on a lower rock. Her faded jeans were rolled up to her knees and her rubber slippers had a healthy residue of sand which the waves brought along. She wanted to be continuously touched by the waves as she sung.

James Taylor, Cat Stevens, Joni Mitchell, RD Burman, Gulzar…her songs kept flowing smoothly that evening. It all felt seamless as she waltzed from one song to the next. Each song bound by a common thread of memory. Memories of a different time. A happy time. A beautiful phase. Unlike now, when life seemed to exist only in name. So lost was she in her singing she didn’t realise when the silver moon had cast a beautiful shadow on her face, almost like a delicate kiss from her distant admirer. She carried on playing.

It was with Carole King’s Way Over Yonder that she finally broke down. Her voice quivered as she almost choked in her own emotions, her strumming stopped. He was within her all the time but at some rare moments he would come out of her senses to have this effect on her. She placed her guitar on the side and broke down.

Moments later she walked along the beach the guitar slung across her shoulder. Her white shirt drenched by the water, her eyes drenched by her memories of him. She kept humming as she disappeared out of sight that night.

The silver moon shone on.

He was stuck on page 27 for a while now. Lost in her thoughts. He carefully looked up ever so slightly from his book to see if she was there. She was. Seated opposite him reading a magazine. He could clearly see her beautiful oval face from the transparent mask she had on. Her hazel almond eyes twinkled from time to time. Her chestnut wavy hair fell softly on her slender shoulders. She was casually dressed in a white top and blue jeans. He just could not take his eyes off her.

He felt she was looking up and immediately went back to his “reading” and turned a page instinctively to prove it. He was holding Alain de Boton’s Essays in Love, a book he had read a dozen times before and almost knew by heart. Let her know I’m not the dumb types, he thought to himself, quite inexplicably sure that she too might be noticing him, just like he was noticing her. I think we are vibing well, he vainly smiled to himself.

At 32, he had a broken marriage and a couple of failed relationships, but that never stopped him from trying. His marketing job ensured he travelled around a bit and almost every trip he hunted for that partner who would be with him for life. His desire to search for a soulmate was stronger than ever. Sometimes when you can’t find love, it finds you. He remembered that line from Oliver’s Story. Maybe it would. He hoped. Always.

All flights had been delayed indefinitely and he sat along with her and a handful of other passengers, waiting for an announcement. The pandemic had thrown every schedule off gear.

I hope I don’t across as some floozy to him”, reading a Cosmo of all things. I should have carried a paperback, she thought to herself. Her eyes transfixed on the ‘new fashion trends for summer’ page. Her mind was elsewhere.

She had noticed him ever since he came and sat down on the opposite row of seats. He was of medium height and despite his mask she could figure he had a nice face. His light brown eyes sparkled every time he creased his forehead whilst reading. His salt and pepper hair added to his charm. She felt an instant connection. I wish he takes his mask off once… she liked clean shaven men and wanted to be sure.

Nearly approaching 30, her attitude to relationships and men had mostly been apathetic. She had seen way too many relationships stumble fall and break in and around her friend circle. There was an inevitable pattern to most relationships she had observed from its initial highs to its lowest of lows. And she felt better off without them.

But she had never felt an instant attraction the way she felt this time. It took her by surprise too.

Should I get up for coffee? He thought to himself. What if my seat gets taken? He knew there was hardly any chance of that happening considering how sparse the airport was in the current times.

Oh how I could do with a cup of tea she wished! Her throat felt parched and she needed something to pep her up. If I get up and leave would he think something? Like I’m not interested or something like that? Maybe he’s not even noticing me. She felt confused.

The silence of their respective thoughts was broken by an airport announcement of flight resumption. Everyone heaved sighs of relief as people got up to make their way to their respective gates.

In the midst of all this she lost him.

By the time she had rolled her magazine in her bag and picked her hand luggage he was gone!!!

She felt a tiny tinge of disappointment as she headed towards her gate. She was slightly late as she decided to buy herself that cup of tea after all. As she reached the gate she looked around her, hoping against hope, to catch a glimpse of him just one more time. But he was nowhere to be seen.

She wasn’t listening to the passenger announcements as she boarded her aircraft. She put on her face shield as she walked towards her seat. 12C. She was hoping there would be no passenger next to her. The pandemic had made her more paranoid than she usually was.

She was disappointed to see a person wearing a PPE suit sitting at 12B. He seemed to be sleeping, as he crouched on one side, mask, face shield et all. She smiled seeing the man such positioned, as she settled down on her aisle seat. She turned her body away from him and shut her eyes. She just hoped for a smooth and safe flight.

A copy of Alain de Boton’s Essays in Love peeped out slightly from the pouch in front of 12B.

Becky readjusted her glasses as she read the papers. Another murder. A single girl strangled to death. The same red scarf. She sipped her coffee nervously as she read the whole news article in detail. The city was becoming a menace for single women like her. Her toast lay untouched on the table.

That’s getting cold you know, Eddie, the portly cafe owner remarked, as he walked past her to serve another customer. Becky was his regular for breakfast and dinner. And really was fond of the “kid” as he called her.

Becky rushed off from the cafe. She didn’t want to be late for work. She always took off her glasses when she stepped out on the road. She didn’t know why she did it. But that’s how it always was. She walked briskly towards her office.

The travel agency she worked in had 4 others working alongside her. In these days of Internet and self-bookings, business had been understandably slow. There were always fears of them shutting down. But then Mr Smith was a large hearted kind man. He would keep things going as long as he could. Becky knew how much he cared for each one of them.

As she sat on her chair she kept the folded newspaper on the table in front of her. As her laptop was coming on her glasses were back and she quickly checked herself on her mobile phone camera, pouting just once to check her lipstick. She smiled to herself as she admired the new shade she was wearing. It was time to begin work.

Becky’s routine hardly saw any change. Every day just seemed like the previous day, with the next day promising to be just the same. She wound up work around 7 and walked right back to the cafe for her regular dinner…black coffee and a couple of chicken sandwiches, before she walked back home. The entire journey from her office to the cafe and then to her single room apartment took her around 18 minutes. With another 15 thrown in for her dinner. She was usually in bed by 8.30, watching television.

The next few days went the same way.

And then again she read of yet another murder. Her coffee went down faster as her eyes followed the gory news of yet another similar murder in the newspaper. Eddie knew her toast would be uneaten again. He sighed as he walked past her engrossed in her paper.

It’s alright Ma, I’m only reading, Becky laughed out loud, making her colleagues look up at her from their work. It was unusual to hear a raised voice from her. They looked at each other and smiled as they heard Becky chat animatedly on her phone.

My mother thinks I am the next victim of his killer, she laughed at her colleagues, as she hung up. She thinks every single girl in this city is doomed, she said, her eyes twinkling. Her colleagues too laughed. But she’s right. You do need to be careful you know, Andrew said. Becky knew Andy had a thing for her. She smiled and went back to doing her job.

There were cops all over office. There were at least 5 of them in that small area. Some asking questions, others looking around the space for clues and fingerprints. Andy was a good man. Happily married. He had no enemies. Mt Smith sighed as he handed some documents to the cops.

Becky sat on her seat. Transfixed. She couldn’t believe the murders had come so close to her. Till now she had read about the victims as unknown people. This time it was different. It was not a single woman. But a married man instead. And someone known to her. Becky couldn’t even sip on her coffee that morning. These murders are really killing your appetite I see, Eddie growled as her breakfast lay untouched.

Mr Smith decided to close the office early that day. He was too shaken up by the events as were all the others in the office. I’m glad his wife never knew of his affection for you, Marjorie winked at Becky, trying to make light of the heavy atmosphere that pervaded in the office. Becky smiled back meekly, as she took off her glasses to walk out of the office.

She didn’t go to the cafe that evening. It was too early for dinner and she never liked anything to go out of routine. She went to the park nearby instead and sat on an empty bench. She watched the children play in the park and the sounds of their laughter seemed like a balm to her troubled mind. She smiled to herself as she watched them, feeling a sense of calm she thought she had lost. As the evening sun went down, she decided to walk towards the cafe for dinner.

I’ll have the pie instead, she told a surprised Eddie. And warm it nicely please. And get me a glass of warm milk tonight Eddie.

Eddie kept her revised menu dinner on her table, his surprise writ large all over his face. It was the first time in the last 2 years Becky was doing something outside her routine. I hope you’re ok, he whispered to himself as he left her table.

Becky looked at her in her mirror in the apartment. The new lipstick shade was something she had never used before. It had been a gift from Andrew. It’s for you my darling, were his last words as he embraced and pulled her closer to kiss her on the mouth in that lovely alley away from their office. He couldn’t say a word after that as Becky had rendered him speechless. First with her passionate kiss and then the cold steel knife that pierced him from the back. She loved the look of shock on his face as he struggled and fell face up in alley. Blood splurged out of his mouth as his eyes remained open and unfocused as his body went lifeless.

Becky didn’t want to waste a red scarf in him. She wanted to break the chain she had started a couple of years ago. A single woman who had ruined her mother’s life by taking her father away from his wife and daughter. All single women were the same Becky had reasoned. They must be done away with. Her mother being in the institution amused her at some level. Every-time she spoke to her she felt that she instead of her mother or maybe alongside her mother should also be there. Don’t worry Ma I’m fine, she’d told her Ma the night she ‘met’ Andrew on the alley. This one is for dad, she thought to herself. These married men, she shook her head as she smiled at herself in her mirror.

Becky opened her cupboard to throw Andrew’s purse which she had taken from him. She opened a drawer in the cupboard to keep it along with a few brand new red scarves that lay there. So much more work to do she sighed to herself as she closed the cupboard shut.

The next morning Becky sipped on her black coffee alternating her sips with a bite from her multigrain toast. Eddie was happy to see her eat without any “newspaper distraction”. That’s a good girl, he whispered to himself as he watched her eat properly, after a long time.

Becky took off her glasses as she walked towards her office. There seemed to be an extra spring in her step that morning.

The cops were clueless about the “single-woman killer”…now a married man had been added to the list. They had no way of even connecting the victims with one another. They continued their baffled investigation without making any headway, as life went on…

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2021. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

Susan lay awake on her bed. She looked at his sleeping body with love and pity. Love because as a husband he’d always been exemplary. Pity because she knew he wouldn’t be her husband for longer. She couldn’t carry on the facade any longer. It was their 5th anniversary and they’d just made love. True to his nature he was fast asleep within minutes but Susan lay awake. Wide awake.

It all started 6 months ago with a phone call.

Susan couldn’t believe the voice she was hearing at the other end of the phone. She had last spoken to James five years ago. It had been their last meeting. She had broken his heart and walked out of his life and into the life of John, her to be husband. James had cried begged pleaded with her to give her one more chance. He would never cheat again with her. But Susan had made her mind up. Once a cheat always a cheat were her last words to James. All those memories came flooding back to her as she heard his voice that day.

Eventually she met him. At their old jaunt The Coffee Place. I could never forget you Susan, he said as he clasped her hands tightly. She always loved his firm grip. It was the sign of a confident and honest man she always felt. He looked into her eyes and she could see all the love he still carried for her. She set me up Susan she set me up, he pleaded. I tried to tell you but you were too hurt too angry to even listen. Yes I was drunk but she came on to me and forced herself on me. And recorded it on her phone as well. Why would I Susan. Why? His tears fell on their entwined hands as he broke down.

She looked at him and sighed. She had wasted five years of her life with John. She had married out of anger. Out of spite for James. And now she regretted it. Not that John was ever a bad husband. In fact he never gave her any reason to complain. Loved her with all his heart. But try as much as she did, she could never forget James and love John. It was her first love that always remained embedded deep inside her. So many times James’ face came to her mind when she made love to her husband. She too had not forgotten him.

I want to get out of this marriage she cried to him. Please help me James. He loved the way she held his hands, all the while looking him right in the eyes.

It was a cold November evening when they hatched the plan. James would fire blanks at John and the latter’s weak heart would give away. It would be the perfect murder. Never could be proven as murder. Just look like a simple heart attack. It was just brilliant. Susan and James kissed passionately after they agreed on the final plan. I can’t wait to be with you darling he told her, as they embraced.

The shots were fired. James stood transfixed as he saw John’s body slump to the floor, blood oozing from his mouth. The gun seemed stuck to his hand as his eyes followed John’s falling body. He stared at the lifeless body lying in front of him in a pool of blood. His mind went blank.

The cops had a field day. They’d never had it so easy. Susan’s ex lover had killed her loving husband in a fit of jealous rage. The hapless devoted widow was left mourning her loving husband. All of James’ explanations and clarifications fell on deaf ears. It was an open and shut case.

Susan took off her veil after the memorial service. She was tired, emotionally and physically drained. She felt a hand on her shoulders as she sat on the dining table. It was Mark, her husband’s younger brother. She looked at him with a smile and then stroked his hand, kissing it a couple of times.

We did it darling. We did it. It took us five years but we did it. No one between us now and all the money is ours, Susan’s voice trembled with quiet excitement as she spoke.

I planted the girl on James so you could break up with him for a valid reason. John always liked you, the sneaky bastard. Didn’t care if his brother liked you too. Always thought his money would buy you. So I played him. And played him well. And you my dear what a wonderful act you put up for five years. Mark was all praise for Susan.

And your master stroke was to find James and bring him back in the scene. That was simply brilliant, Susan said, paying back the compliment to Mark.

She got up and both of them hugged. Mark placed his lips on Susan’s.

The message from the solicitor confirming the transfer of the property deed and other of John’s possessions in Susan’s name, lay unread as the lovers continued kissing each other passionately.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2021. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

Dec 31 1990: The three of them sat on the steps of Garware, the new supermarket that had opened in South Bombay recently. One was 19 about to turn 20 in January and the other two were already there a few months ahead. The three young men sat on the steps that night, which seemed lonely for them whilst the rest of the city rejoiced in bringing in the new year.

“We’re such losers. Nowhere to go nothing to do on New Year’s Eve”, said one of them, the light-eyed curly haired one.

“We could go for the college party at Madh Island you know, we were invited after all”, the guy with Afro said, almost defensively.

“At least you guys got invited. I got nothing”, the tallest and youngest of them sighed.

The Afro-haired guy took out a packet of marshmallows from the plastic bag of Garware’s. That had been their mighty purchase on 31st night. Unlike other guys of their age, they didn’t even smoke or drink. He tore open the plastic pack to reveal those gorgeous multi-coloured cubes of heaven. They all looked at the marshmallows admiringly.

“We’re such losers”, the light-eyed guy repeated his statement again as he helped himself to a pink marshmallow.

“I’ve never had one in my life before”, the youngest said, as he helped himself to a light green one.

The Afro haired guy watched the other two put the cubes in their mouth amusedly. He didn’t like sweets. He and the light eyed guy burst out laughing as they saw their youngest friend make a strange face. Both of them held their stomachs as they guffawed away on the steps of the supermarket watching their buddy express his dislike for marshmallows facially.

The three friends laughed for much longer that 31st night as the distant sounds and lights of fireworks brought in the new year.

******

Thirty years went by just like that. Time, it seems, travels on two planes. On one plane the journey is a slow, languid one where it seems to struggle to move ahead.

And on the other, it just whizzes past before one realises it.

******

Dec 31, 2020: the Afro haired guy…now with a more decent hairstyle (thankfully) speed-dialled his younger friend. It was 11.58 and he wanted to wish him first. They were both married now and strangely alone yet again, with their wives and children out of town.

“Feels strange to be a bachelor once again Na”, they kept saying to each other over the last few days.

The holiday season could get awfully lonely at times.

Their light-eyed friend was a happy bachelor and sometimes they envied him. He would take off to Spain or France or Italy at the drop of a hat. Most of his New Years were spent there. This year because of the pandemic he too was alone at home.

He was added on the con-call.

“Hey man it’s just like yesterday all over again”

“Yes the three of us all alone on a New Year’s Eve with nowhere to go”

“We’re such losers…even now”

“Actually we’re not,” said the light-eyed guy. “Everyone is in the same boat as us this year. The only difference being maybe they don’t have the memories of the last thirty years that we have”

“Welcome to the club”, they ribbed their youngest friend, who was going to turn 50 in January.

The three friends chatted away the night from their respective rooms. The lights and sounds of the New Year felt like before.

The audio file on his phone remained unopened. He stared at it for a while not knowing whether he should open it or not.

It had just been weeks since they’d met and it was at a frightening pace they hit it off. The connection seemed immediate and fascinating. He had never ever connected with anyone the way it seemed with her.

Happily married is an oft misused phrase. In reality it describes perhaps. a certain state of limbo where there are no obvious or major hiccups in a relationship of two individuals. Happiness hardly plays any role in the scheme of things. He had been married for nearly two decades and was blissfully suspended in the same state.

Till he met her.

To most of his friends and colleagues he seemed like the happiest person to be around. His cheerful optimism more often than not rubbed off on people near him. He always had a smile and a helping hand. If ever there was a problem, he seemed to have the solutions. What most people didn’t know was the effort it took from him to clear each and every hurdle life placed in front of his journey. He almost always kept his ego and his happiness aside as he went about life trying to bring happiness to all around him.

He met her at a Christmas party at a common friend’s place. Although there were a lot of people there that day, the chances of bumping into anyone he didn’t know were slim given that they were almost all from his church. But there she was.

My sister goes to the same church she said when he asked her.

I don’t go to church

This one you mean right?

No. I don’t go to church. Any church.

Really?

Yes. I simply don’t believing in bargaining with anyone for my happiness peace or success. I know I’ll get my share anyway. Whether I pray or not

He didn’t know how to answer that, as he stared into her eyes, fascinated by how brown and sparkling they were.

She smiled warmly as she caught him staring at her. Like what you see she winked and laughed at his embarrassment at being found out.

They exchanged numbers and the next few days frantic messages and conversations flowed. Everything from religious beliefs to moral standings, renaissance literature to beat poetry, Ella Fitzgerald to Taylor Swift were discussed. And debated. He soon found out she loved to argue, or “discuss” as she’d like to put it, on almost everything. And invariably she did not seem to go with the conventional flow of things on almost anything. At times he felt she was deliberately provocative just needling him to get into a debate. Soon he realised that’s who she was.

You think we should meet again? Or will you be gaping at me like last time? I am sure you must’ve seen my DP at least a hundred times by now, she loved teasing him and stumping him for words.

So you love flattering yourself I know, but you know what? Let’s meet and let’s find out if I still do gape or whether I am “over you”. His quick and sharp reply took her by surprise but she also enjoyed it.

Challenge accepted she typed back, in a hurry, as she smiled

The coffee shop was unusually empty. Despite the pandemic, he would see it mostly filled up. It was a favourite jaunt for young people who really had stopped bothering too much about the situation and were meeting openly. To see just a couple of other tables occupied on a lazy weekend surprised him. He waited for her at a corner table by the window. He stared at the beautiful view of the sea from the window from time to time. But mainly his eyes were at the entrance waiting for her to arrive.

Ok so she’s not the punctual types. That’s a bummer. He thought to himself. He was “extra hyper” as his wife always said, about time. He would rather reach an hour earlier than be late by even fifteen minutes. But then that’s who he was.

And surely she wasn’t.

He sipped on his espresso, his third of the morning as his impatience grew. He was not used to waiting for anyone this long. It had been well over an hour of the decided time to meet. He felt peckish and ordered a cream roll for himself. Maybe my hunger is angering me, he reasoned to himself.

His messages to her did not seem to be reaching her. Maybe she’s in the underground making her way here, he kept trying to justify her absence.

Eventually he left the coffee shop after a couple of hours. He felt angry and disappointed. He was really excited about meeting her again and if the truth be told she had initiated it. So he saw no reason why she stood him up. He was seething more at the fact that she seemed to have received and read his messages but not bothered to reply. Or show up.

He was sitting alone by his window listening to an old Ella Fitzgerald record. His wife and son were out of town for a couple of weeks and he enjoyed being all by himself for a change. Ella on a Saturday evening, as he sipped his single malt seemed like a perfect day. Except for the morning disappointment. That seemed to have affected his mood. Maybe a tad more than he would have liked it to.

The beep of a new message was perfectly timed. Just as Ella finished Dream a Little Dream of Me and was about to begin Wonderful World. The hiss and crackle of the old vinyl was drowned by the phone beep.

The audio file on his phone was there. He stared at it for a while not knowing whether he should open it or not.

For reasons unknown to him, he got up and out on his headphone before he pressed play on the audio file.

The gentle strums of the ukelele took him by surprise…and then came the golden voice…

“Don’t know much about geography

Don’t know much trigonometry

Don’t know much about algebra

Don’t know what a slide rule is for

But I do know one and one is two

And if this one could be with you

What a wonderful world this would be”

The evening sun painted a gorgeous orange brush over deep blue sky, as her song seemed to seep in his soul like a painter’s brush into a glass of water.

He wasn’t listening to Ella anymore that evening.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2020. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

Her fever came suddenly. It started with an intense headache, followed by nausea. By night her body was burning with fever and intense pain in her joints.

He called the doctor.

There seemed to be nothing wrong with her apart from a racing pulse. The doctor gave her paracetamol and asked for a few routine blood tests. It’s mostly dengue I feel, given the intense shivering while the fever comes he said.

Should we get a covid test done too, the husband asked, worriedly. The doc shook his head. I’ve tested her chest, seems clear and I felt no congestion he replied. Looks like dengue to me.

He sat by her bedside applying cold wipes on her forehead as and when he felt her fever rising. The wipes would arrest the temperature for while but after a while it would shoot up again.

She complained of intense bodyache and joint pains and nausea. Take me to the hospital she begged him.

By midnight her condition was such he had no choice but to take her to the hospital. The hospital was the last place he wanted to go in the current situation but there didn’t seem to be any other alternative left. He wore his double mask, face shield and gloves as he drove her to the hospital that night.

Over the next two days her condition worsened. The fever ran high. There was an inexplicable hair loss which the doctors couldn’t figure out and gradually her senses seemed to lessen rapidly. Looks like she’s slipping into a coma the baffled doctors told him.

All blood test results had come negative including dengue.

He stayed at home and stopped visiting the hospital. The doctors told him not to come. The situation wasn’t conducive to regular visits they told him. Moreover she was in coma so it was pointless anyway for him to risk his own life visiting her now.

He stayed awake at home. Night after night. Every ring of the telephone quickened his heartbeat as he expected the worst.

She pulled on for a fortnight before finally losing her battle. It was around 5 in the evening when the call came from the hospital. The death was officially certified as Mystery Fever.

A week later he sat alone at home looking at their wedding photograph. She looked so radiant as a bride. He remembered her smiling face as he held the photograph in his shaking hands. He took one last look at it before putting it away in the carton containing her other things. Her clothes, her perfumes, her make up, her books, her music. He was throwing everything away. He wished he could throw her memories away too but he knew they would stay with him forever. But these things had to go.

And also the Advanced Chemistry Handbook. She had gifted it to him on one of their anniversaries. Because of his love for chemistry. It was there that he had read about Thallium poisoning. It was undetectable and there was no known antidote. And the only way it could be traced was by a process known as flame atomic absorption spectroscopy. And he knew most people in his town had never even heard of it. He made sure he placed the handbook right at the bottom of the carton.

Keep the tea ready, I’ll be back in an hour disposing these boxes off, he shouted to her younger sister who was in their bedroom resting.

She came to the door, smiled at him and blew a kiss as he began to shift the cartons in his car.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2020. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

David Bowie’s Hero

God Only Knows by The Beach Boys

A solo holiday at a Dharamshala resort

Weekend in Goa with my wife

Leo Messi hattrick vs Real

Virat’s century at Perth

Their answers were fluent and poles apart from one another’s.

As the two of them sat by the sea that late night they seemed to have found a connect in their disconnected lives. The Mumbai sea-link formed an unlikely backdrop to the serendipitous meeting of two strangers.

He was a 30 something freelancer working with various IT firms in the city. He knew he was pushing the age limit for his ultimate ambition…to have his own dream App come out. But he didn’t think of failure. With his wife and 3-year old at home he couldn’t afford to

She dreaded approaching 30. Two broken relationships and endless job hopping had been her only remarkable achievements in life. Away from her family in Kolkata she found sanctuary in her one room PG dig in Bandra. Her job at the mall paid her bills. She secretly wrote poems.

A technical glitch brought them together that night. Inexplicably both had the same taxi assigned to them for different locations. They wondered how the same car could take them to Bandra and Powai at the same time. The car went to neither. Instead dropped them off by the sea and whisked off before they could finish their curses.

Just one of those nights, he smiled as he looked at her and sat on the concrete slab by the sea. The night breeze swept her hair across her face making her look beautiful.

Yes the last thing I needed to round off a lousy week she sighed, moving the hair off her face with her slender fingers. She too sat down next to him.

Strangely it didn’t feel strange for either of them as the conversation flowed on.

Bad week eh he asked looking into her hazel eyes directly as he spoke.

She liked people who looked her in the eye as they spoke. She nodded a yes. A soft smile flashed across her lips. Maybe for the first time that week.

Business has been slow and the store I work in has been threatening to trim since a while now. And I feel the axe might just come any day now she sighed, as her shoulder slumped as she removed her hand bag from her shoulder and kept it by her side.

I don’t even have a job he laughed. I keep hoping to get a next assignment soon but things are bad yes. He understood how she felt, since he juggled his uncertainty at job on a regular basis.

They both decided to book their cabs again hoping they’d get separate ones to take them to their respective homes.

Kajal will throw a fit again. She’ll be sure I’m out boozing with my friends on a Friday evening. Maybe that’s better for her to think than knowing I’m sitting with an attractive girl by the sea at this hour he smiled as he looked straight in her eyes again.

Oh thanks she smiled back, looking him back in his eyes. She found his honesty disarming and sweet.

Favourite song? Dream Holiday? Best sporting moment?

They asked and answered each other’s questions like old friends. Theirs was a connection that was unprecedented and rare.

Two unknown people bumping into each other in a bustling city one lonely night by the sea was stuff they had read or seen in movies. But this connection was so real and yet magical.

They both felt a sense of calm which they hadn’t in a long time. Relaxed.

He answered a phone call which interrupted their conversation, as he whispered “Kajal” to her with a smile.

No I promise I’m not drunk he answered on the phone, as he flashed that same charming smile at her. She found it adorable.

Her taxi arrived before his. She got in the car and waved him a goodbye. She kept looking at him as her car started moving and suddenly said I’m Aditi by the way. Her words echoed in the quiet night as he saw her taxi fade away in the darkness. He went back to sit and wait for his taxi to arrive. He saw she had left her hand bag there, in her hurry.

He picked it up and smiled as he opened it , hoping to find an address or a phone number.

The sea link looked bright and lit up that late night.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2020. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

The square was bustling with the weekend crowd. Families were out to enjoy a rare sunny day. After a few days of incessant rain, the sun was finally out and it was a weekend. Everyone was making the most of it. She sat patiently on a seat in the city centre, surrounded by a bunch of shopping bags. She felt tired as she’d had a hectic week at work. But they had promised the kids a fun weekend. The drive to the city centre from their small town was a good hour and a few minutes. And she had driven all the way because he said he was too tired to drive. “I’ll look after the kids once we reach the city” he promised. She sat watching people all around her, as her husband had taken the kids for ice cream and games nearby.

 Amidst the regular noise of the bustling square a faint tune drifted towards her. At first she couldn’t place it but the familiarity of it got her attention. She tried to figure out where it came from.

 At one corner of the square was an old record store which had closed down. Retail music was as good as dead in the age of digital downloads. The tune seemed to be coming from there. As she looked in that direction she could see the stem of a guitar and a bony hand playing it. She was intrigued and picked up her shopping bags walking towards the guitar player. As she came closer, she found another empty seat and sat down with her bags, listening to the familiar tune. Because she was closer she could hear that not just the tune, but even the voice sounded very familiar. She got up from her seat to go and take a look.

 He looked well over 50. His unkempt long hair was mostly white just like his flowing beard. His skin was pale and sagging and his lips were heavily tobacco stained. His blue denim shirt and faded jeans seemed to complement his face almost perfectly. And it was then that her eyes went down on his shoes. Those blue and white keds with the laces tied in that distinctly odd fashion. Almost instinctively she looked up at his face again. Those deep steel grey eyes which already seemed to hide some unknown sadness so well. Those eyes…

 It was him !!!

 She couldn’t believe the man she was seeing in front of her. He seemed to have aged way beyond his years. As always he seemed lost in his music, oblivious to her presence or anyone else’s for that matter. From time to time he shut his eyes whilst singing… just like the old days.

 As she stood staring at him, transfixed, an era of memories swept through her. Of times they spent together, moments they shared together, a life they had lived together.

 “I want to travel the world and sing. Just me and my guitar. And you”. She felt he added the last line just to appease her.

 “And what about my job” as always, she was amused at his ideas being completely impractical.

 “You have your laptop don’t you. How will your work get affected” he seemed so convinced and so blissfully unaware of the unfeasibility of his “simple plan”. 

“Yeah right” she realised how difficult it was to discuss these things with him

 She couldn’t help but feel sad for the way he had become. The last time she had seen him was at a pub where he was playing. He seemed ill at ease trying to cater to the demands of the audience playing the popular tunes of the day. She knew how uncomfortable and angry it made him. Being asked or instructed to sing something. He always sang from his heart. And that’s what he wanted to do. She wasn’t still married at that time but was engaged all the same. She didn’t feel comfortable walking up to him and saying hi. She was relieved he too hadn’t noticed her.

 Now after so many years seeing him in that city square jolted her at some level. Her eyes swelled up as she stood there listening to him sing one song after another.

 Her thoughts were broken by a gentle tap on her shoulder and a simultaneous hug from behind. Her husband and kids were back.

 “Mama let’s go home now we’re tired”

 “No mama we’re not tired it’s just that he wants to go home and play his new Xbox game”

 “Mama I’m really tired you know…”

 She wasn’t really paying attention to what her children were saying as she put her head on her husband’s shoulder listening to the “old man” sing.

 “He’s good isn’t he? Hey he’s even selling some of his own CDs. Why don’t we get one”; her husband said, almost as if he read her mind.

 The younger of the two boys took the crisp note from his father and went across to hand it to the man in exchange of a CD. The old man looked surprised, handed the CD and ran his hands over the young boys face in a moment of gratefulness. She made sure she was away from his sight and he could only see her husband and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him in appreciation.

 As they headed homeward she requested her husband to drive. He wasn’t thrilled but eventually agreed to sit on the driver’s seat. The children bantered with each other on the back seat as she had her head resting on the side window humming an old tune, the CD clutched in her hands.

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2020. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.