Off color

She said he said

She slumped into the large wing chair in the corner of their lightless living room. She slapped herself lightly as if to wake herself up from the feeling that was drowning every bit of her mood. She was reluctant to put herself to sleep. She wanted to do nothing. 

The lofty wing chair was indeed too large for her five-foot frame. “I fell in love with that you know,” he said, from the other end of the room. He was typing away nimbly on his dying laptop. 

“Baru asked me yesterday what you meant to me,” he went on. “I told him about how that tiny beautiful woman, who never cared about…” He paused and shifted his fingers to the edge of his keyboard. “....her dusky looks, had the courage to dream big.”

She broke into a frown and closed her eyes, only to open them again and stare at the blank ceiling. “I met him this morning,” she said as tears rolled down her cheek. 

“Oh, does he rue those days?” The light went off and plunged them into total darkness. “What chance did he stand against kismet?” 

“You there?”

When the lump gets cleared

Plagued by this

Ron woke up to a lump in his throat. “Oh boy! What a night! What a dream! Would I have a bad day?” He frowned. He hesitated to rub his eyes and see the morning light. He got off his bed and dragged his body to the bathroom. He looked himself in the mirror and saw blurred flashes of the day he would live.

“I am coming over. I have to talk. Are you back from your nighter?” he asked Rob. “Yes. Come. I no sleep. Bad time. No problem, you come. We talk,” Rob said.

Rob has been one of Ron’s closest pals. They hailed from the same town but grew up in different cities until 25 years later when they happened to bag jobs in the same city. Rob has had relationship troubles and spent time mulling over what went wrong. “Nothing. I perfect. Girl nice but don’t know,” he always told himself.

Ron knocked on Rob’s door. “Come in,” Rob said.

“Isn’t it funny, Rob? This was the exact same place where I tripped over and fell off my bicycle and crashed into your door the last time I was here. “

“Looks like that hurts still?”

“Yes. That’s why I got a Vespa,” Ron said with a straight face.

“Not understand. Anyway, what’s up?”

Ron walked into the kitchen and made a cup of tea for himself. “Black’s better.” He explained to Rob why tea without milk is perfect to face a longish day especially when anxiety preempts well-made plans.

“I not understand. Anyway what’s up?” Rob asked again.

“I woke up with a lump in my throat,” began Ron.

“Oh, need medical attention?” Rob asked.

“You really don’t understand, do you? It means I’m bothered by something.”

“What’s problem?”

“I don’t know!” Ron was troubled , again, by Rob’s simple ask. He fell silent and continued to trouble himself. Rob continued to have his tea with skimmed milk.

“I leave you alone.” Rob walked into his bedroom and began searching for his favorite book The Plague by Albert Camus.

“It is here.” Ron came in later with the book in his hand. He didn’t mind showing his moist-eyed face to Rob. “I picked it up from her.”

“I gave her?”

“Yes.” Ron said. “’I know that man is capable of great deeds. But if he isn't capable of great emotion, well, he leaves me cold.’” 

"'For who would dare to assert that eternal happiness can compensate for a single moment's human suffering.'" They exchanged quotes. “Great book, no?” Rob said. Ron agreed.

“But you two talk?” Rob was desperate to know about Ron’s equation with her.

“No. Just yesterday she asked me to hand this over to you. I didn’t talk to her about you.”

“Why?” Rob was mad at Ron. “I miserable. She must know.”

“Rob! When you have no clue why you two aren’t together, she doesn’t have to know.”

“Exactly no. I mean no reason, that is why I sick feeling like this.”

Ron’s phone buzzed. He checked his phone. He stepped out of Rob’s bedroom and came back in after exactly one minute.

“I lost my job,” Ron told Rob.

“Oh my god! You OK? Why?”

“I finally cleared my throat,” smiled Ron.

“I not understand.” Rob was confused.

Ron began. “I’ve had a few altercations with a few colleagues at work. I tried thrusting my beliefs and ethics on to those who didn’t believe they existed.

“And every time I tried hard to make them believe, I was convinced that I was being morally right and that they were in the wrong place, doing those wrong things that will eventually ruin their own lives.” Ron poured himself a glass of water. “I preached. To an extent that I worked less and invested time in teaching this set of unfits a lesson.”

“Sorry, Ron. I not understand. You preached what like?” Rob asked.

“I fell in love with a colleague. I never talked to her. Never went close to her. But there’s a set of people, her friends, who take advantage of friendship and make moves, you know what I mean? And they are my friends, too!”

“I get it. But what we got investing emotion in telling them a lesson? What prompts this? Your feeling for the girl alone or strong belief in ethics?”

“It’s both. I wanted her … wanted to strike something with her … but I didn't want them to create a situation where the inevitable is only embarrassment for them. And what’s wrong with both my feeling and the urge to prove someone wrong when what they practice is actually wrong?”

“Wrong according to you, not them, no? And this situation wrong enough for office people to fire you, not them!” Rob said. Ron fell silent again.

The next day, Ron woke up, troubled, again. He telephoned Rob, “When I met her to take your book, I didn't want to tell her about you because she looked sad, too. I can’t say for what, but she was.”

“Thank you. What you do for the office colleague? Need number of her?” Rob asked Ron.

Imagining reality

Chai at A bar

Rob made chai for himself, placed it on the handle of his chair, and sat with his laptop on his lap. He typed away frantically. His sweaty palms slid along the black surface of his brand new Lenovo. He sweat profusely. His typing came to an abrupt halt. He burst into tears. He tried to blind his sight to a few photographs on his screen, which slowly surrendered to his copious tears. He sat upright, breathed heavily, and slapped himself hard. He picked up his phone to call his best friend. “Yaar, you come. I wait at Angel’s street,” he requested. “Angel, my foot!” he banged the phone down on his chair and cracked his Catwoman phone case. His chai cup fell off the handle.

In a show of renewed spirit, he unlocked the doors of his swanky new yellow Volkswagen Beetle. His phone rang again. “Where do you want me to come? Where on Angel’s street?” Ron asked. “I saw place called A bar yesterday. New place, I think. You come. I wait. New place good for topic I will tell,” he replied. 

He reached the place early. When he got down, he noticed that one of the car’s headlamps failed. He kicked to blow the other one too. He smiled. “Same now! All girls same,” he told himself. He walked up to a paan shop and bought a Marlboro. He lit it and fished his phone out of his heavy pocket. Along came chocolate wrappers of ChocOn and The Dark Knight Rises ticket stubs. He put them on fire and checked his watch. It was 0000 hours.

Ron arrived on his yellow Vespa. “Such a beautiful drive, this!” he said while locking it. “OK, so...what’s wrong?” he asked Rob. “Dude! You look totally spent. Are you alright?” Rob hugged Ron and said, “I end it...OK... I tell full happened story.” 

They walked in together into a place that seemed old and deserted. There were four bean bag chairs around a short table and there were just four such tables spread across the huge hall. The walls were painted black. The paintings were hanging loose. There wasn’t anyone at the counter. “Weird. I think I know this place,” Ron told himself. A man in black arrived at the table, “Anything for you misters?” he asked. “Yes...” “No. Wait. You drink means you no listen to what happened. I too drink after,” Rob interrupted Ron and requested the waiter to give them some time. The waiter obliged,”I’ll be inside. Asleep probably. With my earphones listening to Sinatra. I’ll be happy to be disturbed to help you guys.” Ron asked, “Let me have a drink. Never mind. Go on. Your story.” Rob began.

“Like you know, I engaged last month. I happy and confident like that Joker in the movie. Yesterday itself both saw movie. She got lot calls in between movie. I felt disturbed with people looking me not her while she talking in phone. I suspected fishy.”

Ron broke his narration, “OK, let me guess. She was talking to some guy and tried her best not to let you know. So, you checked her Facebook account and realized that she’s having another affair. Is that it?”

“Yes. But not full story. Hear me,” Rob replied.

“Go on.”

“So...movie over and I dropped at her friend place. She requested me like that. She had worrisome face. I got enraged and upset. She did not bye me.” He paused. “I want drink now. I call waiter.”

“Wait.  And?”

Rob walked into the waiter’s room beside the kitchen and woke him up. He was curious to know who Sinatra was. He got one of the earphone buds and listened to ‘Strangers in the night.’ The man in black rubbed his eyes and said, “May I help you?”

“Nice  tune. Stranger night. Can I get one glass Rum?”

“Sorry, mister. We don’t serve alcohol.”

“Why? What? I sad please please,” Rob pleaded the waiter.

“I’m afraid I cannot get you alcohol, mister. I don’t serve it here.”

Rob shed more tears. Ron walked in, looked at the waiter and said, “Vince. Vince? Vince, is that you? Oh, good lord! I knew I knew you. What is this place? Familiar but...have I come here before? What are you doing here? Isn't your restaurant down on Paradise road?”

“Do I know you?” Vince asked.

“Yes, you do. I was  a frequent visitor to your restaurant Ambar. OK...mmm... French toast, my favorite food?” Ron tried to stir up Vince’s memory.

“Yeah. Right! Man...Phew! Am I old already?

“Yeah. I sold that property. Rough weather. Prices in the area have gone up. Couldn't break even. Not a paradise anymore. So, I very recently got this. Fair deal. Got some plans to turn it around, decorate this place and restart all over. I plan to call this Chai at Ambar,” Vince explained.

Rob butt in, ”You know both?” He wiped off his tears and lit another stick. “Vince, never mind. I take Ron for personal work.”

“Sure. Can I get something for both of you?”

“OK. I want grab some buds," Rob asked.

“You know what...Never mind, Vince. Can you get us some chai?” Ron asked Vince.

“Ron, chai at a bar? I want kick off worry with Rum.”

Ron and Vince smiled.

After a heavy round of convincing, Ron got Rob to have a cup of chai and promised him a glass of Whiskey at his place. The three of them had masala chai together. Rob lay quiet and tried to clear the cracks of the case off his phone. Rob and Ron left Vince for some Whiskey at Ron’s.

Rob gulped his whiskey and resumed his tale of sorrow, “I went home and opened laptop. I saw Facebook and sure that she not fair to me.” He had several more rounds and fell asleep. Ron, though worried, was confident that there was nothing fatally wrong between the two. He logged into twitter and checked his timeline:

@F1winner Raikonnen gets pole. Catch the action live tomorrow.

@duderoy Massively drunk. Joker rules! Screw Batman.

@desiladka Winked at a woman today! \m/

@memaya Home finally! Two close friends split up. What's this world come to?! On the flip side, spent an amazing evening with @robme. Thanks, honey!

Ron smiled to himself and made himself a drink. He typed an e-mail to Rob:

Rob, you piece of sh!t. You know they say ‘Sh!t happens’.’ Exactly. You got yourself into a huge misunderstanding. Maya just tweeted that she got home and her close friends broke up. She probably got a few calls from them while you were at the movies. She even tagged your crazy handle mentioning that she spent a great evening with you. You, retard!

When you see this e-mail tomorrow, go out and fix your damn phone and car. I have never e-mailed someone who’s right beside me, sleeping with his ass showing in my bed.

And the place is called ‘Chai at Ambar’ not ‘A bar’ as you said. Those letters just fell off! Probably.

Chai at Ambar!

Everyday...

Kindred

His cup of noodles was lying on the table before him. Six times before today, he shared it with that someone who he thought would last. It was an instinct – a tingling wish to share time, a slice of life, a feeling that would only be fleeting. Alas. 

Not far away, she put an end to a long conversation - over the phone - with someone who would be an enjoyable part of life. ‘A filler of a fling,’ she calls it. She never bothered the aftermath. She spent most of her time ticking off conversations and crosses with a guy. 

He forced himself out of bed, kicked the table, cracked his cup, and combed his hair – after several washes to remove her perfumed stroke against his short brown hair. He dressed himself in shorts, locked his door and walked out with the sound of music in his ears. And She dressed herself in a stunning blue gown. She kissed her roommate, Jo, and left her room asking people for The Café. 

There is a remarkable quality in every individual story, today. There are impressive clichés. Yet, there is outstanding relevance to every life around. Every time I wake up to the morning light- occasionally by the disturbing darkness – I take the mirror and ask is today different? Stepping out to spend an entire day (and night, for the chosen few) with friends, presents a new chapter to observe and learn, outclassing the traditional way of learning lessons - if life is meant to live by learning. If you lived alone, you have the mirror. If you lived with people – chosen by choice or fate - you are obliged to share a word or two, necessitated by the acts of the previous day. And that’s where it begins. An exercise. An act of meeting with people titled friends. Until this point, there is neither a smile nor a frown. 

You are, at times, dragged by the force of bond, to wrap your hands around your love, or a partner. Otherwise, you walk in to a coffee shop for a cup of steamed bliss. It is usually the former that begins the day, I am informed. And then hour-by-hour, stories unfold, own and observed. The sight of misfits walking out of a friend’s house –probably after sleep hours - presents a story.  While it might be usual, there are revelations that happen through the day. Truth isn’t there to hide, I tell myself. When I pass on the story to others, there is almost a sense of responsibility (mixed with Déjà Vu and panic) in the other’s face. However, it is a moment of relief when the other brings it in the open to keep the score clear. Not just me, even she does it. 

When the Sun is at its brightest best, there is a plan – elaborate and scheduled – to drown in the beauty of intoxication. The next few hours are spent in countdown while there are usual sights of food-sharing. You could lend one ear to tales of marriage, or simply taking the relationship to the next level, a level that had everything in the forefront already. You could lend the other ear to miseries, long standing relationships seeing time dead useless after only a handful of hours – with better ones lasting unto days or longer. Discovery can happen, anytime. 

At the fall of the night when the Sun turns bright orange and the Moon rising with its help, you could be emotion-stricken, sometimes slapped by what happened to you. But, there is beauty in realizing opened truth – what has set rises with the setting Sun. I often see me in moist eyes but buoyed by grit. You would want to grip it hard and not let it go. There is a niggling worry of inviting drooping shoulders encouraging vengeful attitude. But the feelings have had their share and the observations must be dressed to escort tomorrow, battling those niggles.

As I lifted my glass of wine, I could think of more examples characterized as unique and ‘bookmarks’. These are the kind with the power to make an impact. Some could just be thankless and traitors of trust, marooning a blossoming something. Some could just paint a smile and send a fresh lease of life. 

I am glad there are Hes and Shes to flip pages called days. They are an important part of even those unnoticed lessons we learn, gleaning and meaningful. These might just be the Kindred.

The tail

Eh. Oh.

One can never really dwell on the mysteries of Conveying and Comprehending. I’ve faced such situations myself; some embarrassing, some pleasing, some none and some unclassified. Here’s a figment of imagination that tries to explain the Eh-Oh of life or a relationship or a connection between two entities.

Ark, an imaginably sensitive but sensible man goes by his daily routine, stands by his principles and believes in the power of the paranormal. He’s an Eh? He raises questions on uncertainties and has the habit of losing his way in his dreams of thought.

Olia is a downright selfish girl with no emotional balance in her heart but just a plain walker in life. An abnormal, absurd instance never raises her eyebrow. She counts life in seconds. She gives just an Oh to everything.

Ark and Olia happen to be the best buddies. Ark never questioned himself why he’s close to Olia. Olia just talks and talks to Ark, shares smiles and tears when her emotional balance is at one extreme. Ark is aware of her uncanny behavior. Ark, being an extreme Altruist, does everything he can to console Olia when she is at one end of the balance. He also grapples with the other end of her emotional balance. Olia almost never reciprocates his altruism. She just consumes it and the yesterday becomes a thing of the past, the day after such an incident. Ark conveys the care and affection. Olia just takes it and Ark comprehends this as a step to unintended but true Oppression.

This little weak link between the two gives Ark a night of nightmare. The next morning, Ark texts Olia ‘May be I should try wearing a don’t care attitude.’ Olia, just up from sleep replies by saying ‘Oh, good for you’ with a smile.

Somebody sense the tone. I say A, not Eh. I say O, not Oh.

Altruism gets Oppression!

That’s the body of the figment. The tail is the tomorrow of life and understanding.

Deuce

Drawing a Parallel

Ron stormed into his room after having witnessed yet another day of raging activity at home. He slammed his bedroom door and buried himself into his pillow. He had been (and is) a victim of emotional torture: personal and familial. On the personal side, it is like every other teenager dealing with misunderstandings in a relationship. But being true to himself, he was furious with God who he largely trusted in.

Karen opened her bedroom door with the faintest of noises after yet another day of silence. There hasn’t been any sound of a word within her living boundaries for a week. She cried to herself silently as she watched her parents go by their work with no human expression. She was a part of an emotionally wrecked family that had long forgotten the expression of emotion. A cold war within the family loomed large. Karen didn’t want to risk her life falling into a relationship with another guy in these circumstances. She never believed in God.

I haven’t been in touch with two of my closest friends, Ron and Karen. Fourteen years passed. When we were nine, we used to ride together on the same bike, going around dashing walls and forcing ourselves to lose control and eventually fall off. Karen used to laugh her guts out when the bike just stood after the consciously planned impact. Ron was all praise for having the most control of the bike. He just smiled. After the little incident that we got used to, Ron’s mom called us in for a snack. Karen remarked his mom shouts when his dad shouts. It feels so sloppy. I love her lemonade though. Goodbye Ron. Goodbye you, she waved with a bright smile. He quietly sipped his lemonade. I faintly heard his dad speak when his mom placed the jar of lemonade with a thud. Tears rolled down his cheek. I whispered a thank you and left.

Today, I understand the reason behind Ron’s moist eyes while he had his glass of lemonade. Today, I understand the reason behind Karen’s remark. Innocent knowledge!

Thanks to Cricinfo. The end comment- hope you had a great time, it’s been terrific entertainment with the six-hitting. Do join us again. This is Ron Fanly signing off… took me to Ron again. Forget the odds of the right Ron Fanly.

Thanks to DHL. The column Business Requirement document v1.0, first review by Karen Heins took me to Karen again. What are the chances!

Karen’s mobile beeped .You won’t believe it’s ‘You’. Hoping to see you. Her nickname ‘you’ for me brought her the much needed smile. Ron’s mobile beeped too. I tried the dash with the bike. I managed to lose control. Why don’t you teach me to hold steady?

It was Karen I met first. She began…

My dad was based in California then. My mom here. Mom’s location was rather static unlike dad’s. Dad kept shuffling places. ‘Live the World’, he used to say. Mom found it tough to manage me by herself. ‘Live in ‘this’ world’ she says. Seven years passed in silence. Mom and dad were far apart. Being with mom while she worked to keep this little world of ours going…without dad, silence just kept getting bigger. She goes, lectures at work, attends seminars, reviews documents and signs them off. No sign of dad and even if there was any, I didn’t get to know. My young years passed in a Lifeless world. And now, dad’s back. He’d forced himself to do that for he stays only at one place …wanting to prove mom a point, the point that goes way beyond any stubborn egoistic knowledge ‘life is where true work is. My true work isn’t here.’ And mom..mom..has another belief ‘God brought us together. World has to be made around it.’ you know…there has been too much of ‘World’ and ‘Belief’, the years are spent sulking this way. I have opted to add to their egoistic and unbelievable clashes of the mind… trying to do a mix of both. And now at an age of being with a guy to share my thoughts, I beg to differ with them. It makes me want to take that step back. The sun set and the night just began to look beautiful.

I planned a moonlit dinner with Ron. He took a sip of lemon soda and began…

My dad had warned my mom about his passion for cricket before they got married. He played for his county and he forgets the world around him when a match is on. His adrenaline rush is always on the high and it occasionally affected his human expression of emotion...I hope you understand what I mean... and mom, being a writer, used to keep to herself in the initial years. My dad has been a fan of hers, plots of romance and often involving a divorce in her story line…female dominance more than feminism. With passage of time and work load taking the toll, dad’s passion slipped and also took the rush away with it. He realized real expression loses the right meaning when excessive passion or obsession slips out into the real world… on the flip side, this realization has sowed the seed of suspicion. Suspicion that is baseless. He feels real life incidents inspire great novels like a legend inspires a young one. She has written novels for years now and my dad fears this success of hers would change her mind...he fears they will end up divorced. My mother lives in her own novel world trying to make stories, trying to push herself to go beyond the limits of fame. Fear in silence grew into fear in argument, arguing for the very purpose of life. For dad it has been a passion that had to be killed. And while that took time to die, a new passion began to take life within my mom…. giving rise to another obsession. They are so alike but the likes have come years apart. It has only destroyed their ways of thought. You know… I am tired of being part of this nonsensical world of living… Not until my mom retires from writing and my dad stops worrying for all the wrong reasons. I just pray to see this phase off. I hope this is just a phase…! I sensed his tone. The moon shone bright.

I wasn’t sure if Karen and Ron had managed to keep in touch but I gave Karen a call. For Karen and Ron too, this was the first meeting in fourteen years. Little did I know that it would take so long to know how life still remained the same since the whispering thank you.

Still at deuce…

[This post had long been in the making.Took some time off to finish it today.There will be another story in the near future, not in this genre though.]