Disenchanted

 She knew she would have to step out of the house someday, why did today have to be that day, she rued loudly, in her mind. It had only been a month since Menon had walked out of her life, it hadn't been enough time for her to get over the shame of abandonment. She did not miss him, nor did she want him back, but the suddenness with which he had exited her life had left her stunned; it had been done with surgical precision, cold and neat, with no loose ends to fret over. In their time together, there had been no drama, no heated exchanges and no moments of passion - they had existed together, barely lived. Her memory of their time together was the constant feeling she had, of being suffocated, by a soft, silken pillow, something that would eventually put her to sleep before smothering her by its officious civility. Eventually she had been no different than that packet of meat that had remained frozen in their refrigerator, in plain sight, yet forgotten, and their relationship had ultimately shared the same fate of being tossed into the garbage can in one sudden swoop.

Hidden behind the recess in her window she watched the world zip past outside, everyone forever in a hurry, running towards something, stressed, harassed, oblivious of their aliveness, ungrateful of the miraculous gift of life bestowed upon them. Hadn't she been one of them, focused on her 'hustle', destined like the hamster to always dance to someone else's tune, striving for that pot of gold at the end of some rainbow. It hadn't been anyone's fault, no one had set out to cheat her, she sighed. She had herself, drifted away from her consciousness, the choices she had made had kept pulling her ever deeper into the churning morass of 'productive' society. She had been fortunate though, hadn't she, her wakeup call had had been the blazing trumpet of Menon's disappearance from her life, had that not happened she would have ended up like the toad in a pan of slowly heating water.

But now, she perked up, trying to force herself out of her morbidity, the sun was setting, soon it would be dark, perfect for her to slip out; everyone would be cozying up in front of their mindless bingeing on televisions or laptops. She stood there, waiting patiently, silencing her mind, watching the street clear after the flurry of increased traffic from people bound homewards, mindless honking, and the dusty atmosphere of irateness dissipate gradually. Eventually, she could hear only the lazy rustling of palm leaves and the stars started to shyly play hide and seek. The next five minutes went by without her knowing, her body still remembered how to get ready and out for she soon found herself at the entrance of the lighted garden. Looking at it uncertainly, she reminded herself - "One step at a time", as she eased into her slow walk, looking down at her shoes, her trusted old sneakers. People passed her by as she continued on the walkway, eyes fixated on the ground to avoid making eye contact, her earphones plugged in but silent, only to signal she wouldn't respond to people calling out to her either. A regular to the park, she had not been visible for more than a month, yet no one had called out to her - not even the security guard whom she had given all of Menon's left-over clothes - of such impeccable quality and taste that it had caused the man to reel over in ebullient gratitude and now he had his face turned away from her. She had wanted to be left alone, but her becoming invisible this quickly hurt deeply.

She noticed a new path had been cleared with fresh tiles laid out and took up the trail, her regular path had only about five people but to her it was a crowd. How long she had run for that evening, she could not recall, puzzlingly she did not feel any soreness in her muscles. She had been a runner before the break, even so she could not claim this level of fitness. Not wanting to regret her over-enthusiasm the next day she did some stretches and seeing a stone bench sat down to cool off. This new trail had not seemed to help for she still felt neither tired nor rejuvenated. Maybe she needed to get back to her morning runs as before. "One step at a time", she reminded herself as she found herself panicking at the thought of getting out during the day.

 She could not have been alone for long before someone came up the path leisurely strolling as they spoke loudly into their phone. The man was likely one of the painters who had been painting their apartment complex walls, she deduced based on his overalls. Maybe it would be good practice for her to try and strike up a conversation with him. She had been garrulous decades ago, she squirmed at the thought of the gibberish she had spouted in the name of 'conversation', Menon had taught her the power of silence, of using few but powerful words. Her friend circle had disappeared soon after that, "good riddance" Menon had approved of the change. 

Why had someone as astute, as awe-inspiringly brilliant as Professor Menon stooped down to marry her, she had often asked herself in their marriage of four years. A few months back, during a dinner party, when she had sat obtusely through the complex discussion on world affairs and had hesitatingly stated an overly simplified viewpoint, she had noticed Menon freeze, going red in the face. On the drive back, he had maintained an aloofness that scared her more than if he had yelled at her. And that's when she had asked him the question about why had he asked her, then a student of his, to marry him. He had looked at her for a long time before shrugging, "Opposites attract". The humiliation had stung, she felt tears well up but had hastily swallowed those away, Menon detested overt displays of emotion, calling them childish. Each day she had changed - a bit here, a bit there, until there came a day when she looked into the mirror, she saw Menon and not her goofy face, she had finally truly become worthy of being his wife, someone he could take out to meet his colleagues without dying of embarrassment. A few weeks later, after dinner, he had calmly conveyed to her stunned face that she should expect the divorce papers soon. As usual he had been gravitas personified, cool, precise, and masterful, His eyes glittered through his specs as they seared right through hers, cold as ever, she had not even blinked, he would not have any of that emotional outburst, she knew. Had it been her hair? she could not help blabbering incoherently "I was going to get it cut this weekend", it had been a lie and he had just smirked at her, reverting to correcting the exam papers. 

Her running and her hair had been the only things Menon had been unable to get her to change. Just like her mother, she had been blessed with thick waist long hair. While everyone had admired her Jezebel locks, Menon had hated it. No educated girl should allow herself to have hair as long as this he had told her, "for heaven's sake, you look like a farmer's wife" he had grimaced through tight lips, yes, she had wavered, but had not been able to get the bob Menon had so badly wanted her to get, instead, she had started to put her hair into a tight bun ever since, anything to avoid Menon noticing it or commenting on it. 

Something tore through her as she realized that her hair was still in a bun, he was still in control, "No!" she yelled out furiously. The guttural howl that shook the leaves around her seemed to have come from somewhere behind her, stunned, she looked around to find the painter guy on his knees, whimpering. Had she been the one who made that thunderous noise? Embarrassed, she stood up to find her hair had come lose. She shook it letting it fall over her face, liking its texture, its smell. She had forgotten how her open hair felt, she was never putting her hair back in a bun, she promised herself. The man had turned white, whimpering with fear. Guiltily, she extended a reassuring hand out to him but he cried out, finally scampering to his feet and running away. She smiled, ashamedly at the surge of power she felt at scaring the man. She hated herself.

The next day, she woke up to a massive headache, how long had she been asleep! Looking on languorously at the setting sun, it seemed she had slept through the entire day, had her run been that tiring, she thought, noticing she still had her running clothes on. With  no recollection of getting back to the apartment, she concluded the run must have been very emotionally draining, maybe she'd wait to get back to running.  Gazing out from her sofa, she could see the familiar rush of people and cars, everyone was either with someone or trying to get home to be with someone. Her loneliness hit her hard between the ribs, there was no one thinking of her, wanting to be rush home to her, she swallowed painfully. She was still clutching her knees trying to reduce the hollowness within her chest, when a sound alerted her - the front door was opening. Her mouth went dry as she looked about her, no one had the keys to the place except Menon and her. And then she heard his voice. She wasn't ready to meet him, not like this, she scrambled to her feet, panicking. She ducked into the closet, closing it lightly just as the voice came closer, he was almost into her room!. She heard the voice fade in and out as he walked about the front room, it most definitely was Menon's but he sounded different, apologetic, humble, scared even. 

"....it's five years now, this was my first flat...would love to get back here..." apparently his companion had not agreed for he continued his groveling, trying weekly to convince them. And then she heard the second voice, it was sharp, static, deep but distinctly female, "get rid of it, it stinks of middle class". That seemed to have ended the discussion. She had to see who it was that had Menon shut up. Quietly, she stepped out of the closet and peeked around the door, Menon was running his finger over the coffee table, fondly even, while the woman, with her back to her was standing huddled up in the center, afraid as though to get contaminated, of what, she thought. There was something familiar about her - she had the short wavy hair of one of the students that Menon had tutored, deciding to know more she stepped through into the drawing room. Menon looked up at her, expressionlessly, almost as if he was seeing past her, she almost gasped aloud, noticing how much he had aged in the past month. He had been her Professor in college, almost a decade older but had always had youthful vigour about him that had been a huge hit with his students, including her. His companion turned to look as he exited the room, and just like Menon, ignored her completely. She was used to being a wallflower when with Menon but being someone of no consequence even to this young thing, was humiliating. This female version of the youthful Menon was unaware of the treacherous phase of life she had entered into, feeble or not, Menon was dangerous. She stepped forward, into the girl's line of sight hissing "Why are you here?" The girl seemed to look away, hugging herself tighter, then suddenly she yelled out "Menon, we've got to leave....Now!"

Menon came racing out, "Anything's the matter honey". "Don't honey me you!" she snapped, "this house gives me the chills.... you can't expect me to move in where she died.." "Baby, it's been five years, this is prime property..." he cooed, completely ignoring her confused face. Who were they talking about, who had died there - Menon and she had bought this newly constructed apartment just a year back. The way Menon was looking at the young girl reminded her of how she had looked at him, what a fool he looked like, she giggled but then stopped fearing he would hear her, But he did, both of them clutched hands gawking at her, were they fearful of her! She burst out laughing, their fearful faces looked comic! One of the windows flung open blowing a strong breeze through her open hair, ignoring the thought that she'd be struggling to comb her hair the next day, she twirled it around, loving the feeling of how her hair swirled around her. She was glad Menon and his new young thing got to see it. As the girl shrieked, both of them tumbled towards the door, she bent over howling with laughter, The girl's purse and the keys they had used to get in lay strewn about on the floor as they fled, they had even left the door open. Outside, in the corridor, a painter, the same man she had seen in the walkway sat washing his paint brushes. He looked up, startled at the exiting couple, then he  peered into the house and seemed to see her - he seemed to be the only one who would actually acknowledge her presence. She moved towards him to reassure him but he too screamed and fled, upsetting his paint can all over the granite floor. 

So, it seemed her newfound superpower was to drive people away, that was indeed hilarious. She had never laughed so much and never for so long. Still howling with laughter, she made her way through the empty corridors. Reveling in the wind blowing through her hair, she headed towards the walkway, she was not going to hide inside the walls anymore, she had found her voice and she would never stop laughing.

I noticed...

The double lines running from the nose to the chin;

The chin that wobbled with the added padding,

The neck that looked like parched earth, waiting for the rain.

Knees that hurt with each step, fingers that swelled up every morning,

It did not escape scrutiny, those thinning strands of silver, same as the watery, fading eyes

The canopy of leaves, inviting, green with young life, mellow with the morning dew

A decadent jar of sweetness, the call of the cuckoo bird, persistent, divine

The enchanting yellow flowers strewn across the walkway, soft and deadly

The little blobs of red grass, the ones that had escaped the lazy gardener

As the heart grows bigger, softer with tenderness, beating with heightened awareness,

Shuffling feet turn leaden, unwilling to walk away.

Spellbound at the cacophony, the melody and gladness of the birds, this buffet of sensations, 

The current of life, passing through the darkening skies, the soft wind, even the immutable rocks.

It had been sunrise a long time ago, now, it was time for sunset to bloom, 

Vibrant beyond the peacock's bloom, it beckoned, come, pause a while.

The gladness of life, that celebration of awareness, so temporal, so infinite

The journey would continue, beyond time.

I sat there as the last rays of the sun flickered fervently for a while, fighting, resisting,

and then,

I noticed how they gently paled into the iridescent darkness, contented, at last.

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Her Birthday wish

 It was to be her birthday in a week and she would finally turn ten, an adult, she thought dreamily swinging idly on the playground's rusted equipment. Would her mother remember, a querulous voice from within asked. She had checked the calendar in the apartment supervisor's office - it was to be on a Monday this time, one of her mother's double-shift days. Even on her single-shift days like today, all she would do is cook and pack food for the week that she and her brother were to heat and eat in the evenings. She would soon be coming home, her greasy work uniform would still smell of heated oil and other things that always made her want to puke. But her mother would often start cooking even while she still had her uniform on. Her face fell as she recalled the ghastly sight of her mother waking up that morning with her make-up caked up and packed thickly into the deep crevices on her face. What she disliked the most were her large, unwieldy hands with swollen veins popping out and the red nail polish she always had on even on her broken nails. She had prayed everyday that her mother wouldn't come to the bus stop to see her off, she often did so even with her mascara smeared on her paper like skin and her hair tousled in the previous night's hairdo. Her brother was too young to understand and was just always idiotically delighted that his mom was there, not understanding the looks from the other mothers at the bus stop - wary, haughty and sometimes pity, her haggard family of three stood out like a caterpillar on a plate.

Later that evening, she took out the diary her grandmother had gifted her the previous birthday. Her brother had already written his name, or something similar in hieroglyphs, in various sizes, through all the pages. The diary had originally opened up to be a cake with a huge cherry on top. Her brother had also taken care of the cherry and chewed through it within a month. Seeing that he was now trying to help her mother with the cooking she pulled out her pencil and found an empty space that hadn't been scribbled over. She carefully typed out "My Birthday Wish", and later changed it to "My Birthday Wishes" as she did have more than just one. She hesitatingly listed the battery-operated robot and the roller-skates as an after-thought. Then her imagination ran free and her list kept growing till she had covered the whole page, front and back. Finished, she looked at it with deep satisfaction, just writing her wishes down made her feel like she already had those, she started planning how she would race around on her skates in the evenings with all her friends watching enviously. She decided to place her list strategically near her mother's work satchel, that way she would not miss seeing it. Satisfied with her plan, she ran out to see what her mother and brother were upto, for the house had gone silent - only to find them both crashed out on the couch, snoring wildly. As she had done on many other days, she poured herself some milk and went to bed.

The diary was still on the counter when she returned from school that day, and for the rest of the week she got no indication that her mother had made any efforts to buy her any of the gifts she had listed. Rather her mother seemed even more haggard and seemed to have double-shifts every day that week. She would barely see her and once when she did, her mother had swollen eyes and a puffy face that scared her so much that she burst into tears. Her grandmother came over one day that week to spend the night with them. With a special dinner of boiled eggs and jam on toast and some of the games she had brought they had an exciting time, so much so that she completely forgot about her birthday wish list. It was only when their grandmother boarded them into the school bus the next morning that she remembered and yelled out from the bus "Don't forget what it is on Monday, Gramma" The bus moved on slowly but not before  she saw her grandma turn around looking deeply sad. She was perplexed at the reaction, but sat back happily having successfully reminded her of the upcoming event. She was always one who had good gifts and for the rest of the bus ride she dreamt of what might she get for her birthday that year.

By Sunday night she was dismayed to see absolutely no change in her mother or her routine, she seemed to have got even busier  than before. She had just rushed out with some instructions for dinner and to go to bed by eight. Her brother was zooming around brainlessly with his red bus with no comprehension of the turbulence within her. She sobbed her heart out into the pillow, all the while her brother was running around in circles assuming she was playing a game. She would wait until tomorrow and then the two of them would run away she decided. Once her mother had left for work, she'd pack his red bus and her books and they would go and live on apples in the forest on the other side of the town. Satisfied with her plan she fell asleep. 

She woke up to an eerily silent house, her mother wasn't screaming out instructions, nor was her brother running around like a firecracker. Disappointed at the damp start to her big day she ran out of her room angrily, ready to break the first thing she'd lay her hands on. How could her mother forget the day, she screamed inside, tears welling up in her eyes. No wonder they did not have a father like the other kids did, who would want to live with a woman like her, she kept shouting silently as she approached the kitchen. Sitting on the rug, cross-legged was a beautiful lady, she stopped in her tracks, looking closely she saw it was her mother, her hair tied back and a huge smile on her face, Her brother was snuggled up tightly on her lap happily sucking at a lollipop. She set her brother aside and stretched out her arms "Happy Birthday Sweetie" she whispered. To her ears the words seemed like a roar and as she ran into those arms her tears started to fall, she knew she was ten now, and no longer supposed to cry but she could not seem to control it. Her brother had started to kick her wanting in on some of the action as well and soon before they knew they were all entangled in a confused pile of arms and legs shouting and laughing and crying all at the same time. "So who is going to help me bake the birthday cake?" her mother asked eventually and she knew then it was the only birthday she had ever wanted.