Solitary rain

I just finished with my night shift yesterday, and I went up to the cafeteria to have my breakfast. As I sat down at a table, I could feel tiredness creep into my body. I was watching the television when I suddenly realized that the hall was unusually dark. I peered out of the window and looked in amazement.

It was around an hour and a half left for mid-day, but I could have sworn that the failing light outside resembled the early sunsets that Kolkata was quite accustomed to. But being a newcomer to this city, it was a sight that left me awestruck. I was no longer looking at the television. Nor was I having my breakfast. I drew myself to the window and continued to admire the vista. Just then, a drop of water splattered on the window in front of me. I was taken aback for a moment, and almost immediately, I began to smile. The number of drops began to multiply and more appeared on the window, blurring my view of the darkened sky. The rain had arrived. And just then, I became the loneliest person in the world.

Never in my life did I feel anything when the rain seeped to my skin and drenched me completely, but when I watched her for the first time in the rain, I knew I felt different. I had laid my eyes on the most beautiful thing. I watched her closely as she stretched her cheeks to a smile, and closed her eyes from the piercing sharp cold drops that rained down from above. As each drop hit her taut skin, it exploded like multiple sparkling gems. As each drop bounced off her skin, she tingled and broke into a laugh. Her hair was now thick and heavy with the rain, and she shied from opening her eyes for too long, lest the raindrops hit her at the wrong spot. She lifted up her hands, and roved her fingers through her hair. Her hair was now disheveled, but the look on her face was clear and obvious. She was thrilled. Like a small child, she hopped around in the rain, turning round and round, as if she could catch more raindrops. I just stood and watched her, oblivious of the fact that I was now slowly getting drenched. Then the wind blew.

Clearly she was shivering with the draft hitting her. Almost immediately, she clung to herself, arm to arm, and ran for safety. I too felt the chill, but I was lost, mesmerized by the actions of the girl in front of me. I watched her run to the confines of a bus stand, still holding her arms together. She was still shivering, and I could barely tell the goose bumps from the droplets that glistened from her arms. As I saw her hold herself tightly with her arms, I so badly wanted to be there with her, clasped all around tightly in between her arms. It was only then that I realized that I was now soaking in the rain. So I rushed for cover nearby. But I was unaware that I was heading to the same stand that sheltered her from the chilly rain.

I was beginning to feel conscious of her presence next to me. Initially, she glanced at me, and continued to rub some warmth into her arms. I pretended to ignore her, stealing glances of her from the corner of my eye. We stood in silence, and looked onward into the rain. Though I was standing next to a complete stranger, I felt an innate connection with her through the rain. It felt like I knew her since a long time. I did not feel alone anymore. But she eventually moved away. And I did nothing to hold her back. After all, she was just a stranger. I had nothing of hers to hold on to, but she had taken my imagination as she departed.

And now, every time I see the rain, I am reminded of the stranger who seemed born for the waters that poured down from the heavens that meandered with purity all over the body of this angel that was in her element in my sight.

And as the rains fade away, I miss her even more…

Lub – dub, lub – dub, lub – dub...

The noise of traffic is deafening, the honking of cars, the roar of engines, the shouts of people, it all is bound to disorient you. When you get to work, the channel music in the elevator is boring, the same piped music wafting from the brass lace affixed overhead. The telephone on the right side of your desk never ceases to stop ringing. Every time you bang the phone shut, you wish you were able to kill the forsaken device. Even the mobile phone in your pocket contributes to your slow death with its subtle, but very distracting vibrations. Your ears start to ache as you can feel your boss literally breathing down your neck, loudly reminding you of your deadlines, as if you were deaf. The chatter of your colleagues makes no sense to you, and you are polite enough to sit through their intelligible chatter without embarrassing them.

When evening comes, you just cannot take it anymore. You long to leave this place and return to your sanctuary, where you are certain of being reminded of the person you really are. When you are haste to your sanctuary, the entire volume of noise around you seems to increase. And just when it almost engulfs you, the key in your hand twists in the lock and gives you entry through a door. Immediately, you enter and shut the door behind you and all the noise that had plagued you since morning has suddenly vanished. You are home. You let your coat and with it your bag fall off your shoulder. As you lumber on, you see a bed in front of you. Your legs give way, and you crash into bed. Fatigue overcomes you, and you lay still as a stone in its cold covers. As you lay in bed, you can feel something slip in beneath you, and suddenly the bed seems warmer than usual. And then, through the silence of this sanctuary, you hear a faint and rhythmic beat. ‘Lub – dub, lub – dub, lub – dub…’ it goes…

It’s not just a sound; you can actually feel it throbbing at your ear. Your head rests on the bosom of your loved one, who unfailingly runs her fingers through your hair, soothing your tense and stretched nerves into submission. Her bosom not only heaves rhythmically with the throbbing of her heart, but it also intoxicates your cluttered mind, drawing you into a deep and much needed slumber. A memory of the morning’s noise has now ebbed away, and your ears welcomed the delicate throbbing of her heart. And as you drift into deep slumber, you know that every day, you would give anything just to hear that pulsating throb every time you retire at the end of the day. Because that’s the only beat that would keep you going through every passing day.

Lub – dub, lub – dub, lub – dub…

Mi Chica

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains and warmed me as it kissed my hand. I opened my eyes. I rolled away from the light, wincing my eyes shut. Slowly I opened them again. The light was not glaring. In fact, it glowed against the wall and the plush leather sofa. There I saw her, lying still on the sofa. I was too weak to get out of the bed, but I lay beneath the bed covers, looking at her. As I looked on, I was reminded of the time when she first came into my life.

I was a kid then, unaware of my ever-changing surroundings. Being thrown into an unfamiliar environment, I was hustled and bogged down by the older children. I cried and ran to a corner, unable to express my sorrow otherwise. Through my sobs, I heard a soft song. I still remember holding back my tears for a moment with my ears perked up to catch the new sound. Slowly I followed the sound. It led me to a corner behind the library. And I set my eyes on the most magnificent sight. I saw her in the company of an older man, surrounded by younger children listening intently. I peered from the corner of the wall, not wanting to be seen. But I could not help and stare at her. She was not like them; she was different and full of melody. Music filled the air as everyone, including me looked on in awe. And when she stopped, there was silence. I could not resist and clapped out of happiness, not realizing that I had blown my cover. Immediately all eyes were on me. Quickly I shied away, running to the library.

That night when I got to bed, I could not really sleep. I had thought of all those boys who would constantly bully me and dishearten me. And then would I think of her. I could very well remember the way she looked, and the way her music held me in a hypnotic stance. Before I closed my eyes, I knew that I would see her again, the next day.

The next day I went to the library. And there she was, again engaged with the older man from yesterday. I was shy to move on. Suddenly I saw the older man get up and leave. This was my moment. I, a confused teenager who wanted to touch her badly, walked. I stopped close to her, uncertain of my actions. Slowly I laid my hand on her shoulder. She was reclining on the chair. She had a shiny smooth skin, and a graceful long neck. She felt cool at touch as I slid my fingers up her neck. As a teenager, I was the happiest person at that moment. Just then I felt someone’s hand grasp my shoulder. The older man was back, looking at me questioningly. Alarmed, my heart skipped a beat. I stood there speechless. He looked at me intently and asked me if I liked her. I looked at him and her, and out of fear, shook my head sideways. He relaxed his grip on my shoulder and smiled. He told me to sit down. I sat, looking at him and wary of her presence. He looked at me closely, and said that he knew that I was lying. And ever since that moment, starting with her, my life changed. Every day since, I have known a part of my life that was not dominated with disgust and lonesome nights. With her very presence, I had seen all my despair vanish. I was smitten. Every moment when we used to sit together, everything else blurred. The moment I would hold her in my arms, I would draw her body close, feeling her cool and smooth skin slip beneath my fingers. And with her, the thoughts and music of my heart would always be heard. That was the deepest satisfaction that I would derive. Clearly, she was the first one to comprehend my thoughts.

But my happiness was short lived. The older man came to me one day, and brought with him some bad news. He was leaving. I listened in silence. I knew what his next words were going to be. She would be leaving with him. I asked if I could see her again. He shrugged and told me that she had already left ahead of him with his other luggage. There was an eerie silence between us. He shook my hand and left. I did not know how to react. So I slowly walked behind the library, to the place where I first saw her. As I sat there at the steps, I heard a car leave. I got up to see beyond the school compound wall. There I saw the older man leave the premises. As I watched his car disappear around the corner, I felt a sudden heaviness in my heart. It was a weird feeling, just like the moment when my parents put me in this boarding school. And that was when I realized how close she had become to me.

Years passed since that fateful day. I managed to drown my worries in another pastime. Since I did not have her to understand my thoughts, I realized that the best person was, me. A bit of an irony, but I knew that I would not let myself down. So I resorted to writing. It had been a solid and very valuable action that always reminded me what I thought. As I grew, I would occasionally look back at all my thought. There were times when I laughed at the innocent bloopers I committed as a kid, sadly remembered certain incidents of my past, but most importantly, I felt proud of the many decisions and choices I made that had defined my life, so far. Days passed by, and I began to move away from the very thought of her. Until that fateful day arrived.

I now lived downtown. I had my own apartment, courtesy my company. Life was hectic, with many schedules and deadlines too tight to keep pace with. The life that I lived had its own perks, and this spacious apartment was one of them. I began meeting more people, and that helped me keep my spirits high in tense situations. But every time I got back home, I would be so tired that I would crash into the bed. As I lay still in bed and feel my body melt away, emptiness would creep into my heart. Since childhood, I would always think of my first love; left me alone, to depart with the older man. This very thought made me cringe my eyes shut, preventing a tear slip by. Just then I heard a knock. It came from the main door. I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter past one. I wondered who could come by so late. I dragged myself to the door and called out. There was silence. I called out again. I did not hear anything. Silence was ringing in my ears. Cautious and wary, I slowly opened the door. I peered outside. Nobody was there. It must be those mischievous kids down the corridor, I thought to myself. As I shut the door, something in the hallway caught my eye. I opened the door once again and looked out. And for the first time in many years, I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

I could not believe my eyes. I could clearly see her standing in front of me. Well, she was in the darkness, which was why I did not notice her. But the moment I saw her, I felt happiness fill up within me so fast that tears welled in my eyes. Quickly I brought her in, and laid her at the sofa. She looked shabby, but still carried that familiar charm. I sat next to her, looking at her. I still could not believe my eyes. Just when I was wondering what she was doing here, I noticed a folded paper in her possession. I took the paper and read it. It was from the older man. By the time I read the letter, sadness filled me. The older man was dying, and was worried for her. Somehow he managed to find me, and decided that she was best under my care. I folded the letter and clasped my hand. I sat in silence, slowly absorbing the situation. Then I turned to her and drew her close. As my fingers traced the corners of her shoulders, I felt the familiar smooth skin slide at my touch. Gently, without saying a word, I drew her close, with her finally resting on my lap. As I held her that way, I whispered to her, telling her that I would never let her go. And then, as in the years gone past, music of my heart filled the room. I closed my eyes, and felt light headed. She is mine, I told myself. And then I slept.

Now, back in the present, I was still in bed, watching her at the sofa. As the morning rays shone on her, her body glistened in the light, highlighting her curvaceous body. Slowly I got up from my bed and walked towards her. I lifted her off the sofa gently and held her close. I still could not get over her smooth touch and the lovely music she made with my thoughts.

Then I bent down, and picked up a damp cloth I had left on the table the previous night. Slowly and gently, I wiped her body. She was messy, but each wipe increased her beauty. Gently I ran the cloth down her neck. Slender as it was, it was now glistening even more in the morning light. I held each of the pins in her head and tweaked them till satisfaction. And finally I ran a finger down her lustrous hair. I smelt her now. She now emanated a woody scent that made me feel just right. Finally satisfied with my effort, I sat on the sofa with her in my arms. I played with her lustrous hair, while music began to fill the bedroom. The familiar sound was ringing in my ears. And I was content. For my first love, the older man’s Spanish guitar, was now my ‘chica’, my only love.

Perfect Stranger

I am walking on the roadside, suddenly increasing my pace to a sprint as the rain drops hit my body. I am running for cover, and all I can see in front of me, is a bus stand. Thankfully, it is just the right thing that I need. I have to catch a bus to go to my uncle’s place. And because I reached the stand just when it started to pour, I was among the first to wait under the cover. Slowly people start to pour in. The scent of rain can be so addictive, but couple that with the stench of sweaty people in a crowded bus stand is a real put off… I frown at my luck, unable to enjoy moment. But then, just then, something happens.

I overhear a small conversation. It’s between a rickshaw puller and the passenger. It sounds like an argument. It seemed that the passenger was overcharged, with the puller taking advantage of the sudden rainfall. But the passenger has the fire, and quite successfully manages to win the bargain. I have not set sight on the passenger yet, the crowd is too overpowering. Well, I do not have to wait for long.

A bus pulls in. I glance at the number; it’s not mine. But this bus manages to pick up almost all the people waiting there. None dare to get off the bus, the rain is too hard. As the bus pulls away, I see only a few people waiting at the stand. There is an old couple, a young and thin bespectacled man, and two women. I am looking at the road, and see the haze of rainfall cover the busy street. As I shift my gaze, I am distracted by a voice. It is the voice of the passenger. And I see her. She is standing at the end of the stand, close to the road. She is dressed in a floral pink top, tightened around the waist with a satin black belt. Her slender limbs are drenched in the rain. Her tiger striped sandals are now soggy and muddy. In her hand she is holding a large bag. It looks to me that she has done some shopping. And it looks like a special day; I cannot help notice a large bouquet of pink roses in her hand. Lucky girl, I think to myself. I have not yet seen her face, for she is looking towards the road. Lost in the sound of the falling rain, I am still looking at her. And that’s when she turns around. And I hold my breath.

No matter how hard I try to describe what I am seeing, I know that I will never be able to get it right. It is a perfect sight, just flawless. There is a child in her eyes, yet she carries a look of maturity with ease. She has a well chiselled face with perfect cheekbones; eyebrows curving over her surma outlined thin eyes, a prominent jaw line highlighting her slender pale neck, her pink lips running thin as she occasionally stretches them to a grin, revealing a cute set of teeth and a faint dimple in her cheek. As the wind blows, I watch her earrings sway delicately, her matted and wet hair fall on her face. With her eyes closed, she raises her head, and with her slender fingers, brushes aside the loose hair. Her nose ring glistens like the drops of water on her wet skin. I am just smitten by the sight. To escape the hard hitting raindrops, she moves towards the seat of the bus stand, where I am seated. She stops next to me, and sits at the empty seat beside me. I look in the other direction, but occasionally cast a glance at her. I now get a scent, similar to baby powder. It is so captivating, just as the person wearing it. Just then I look at the incoming traffic and let out a sigh of despair.

In the distance, I see a bus heading to the stand. I recognise the number. It is my bus. Now stuck between wanting to stay, savour the moment with this perfect stranger and heading to visit my uncle, I have just a moment to make a split decision. As the bus pulls in to the stand, I get ready to leave. But when I get up, I cast a second glance at her. Then I am lost. I sit back, looking at her. Thankfully, she is looking in the other direction. The bus halts, and two people disembark. I still have time to get up. But I am still sitting. The old couple are now moving to the bus. Funnily, the old man is taking time to climb into the bus. It felt as if it was a sign from the Rain Gods to get on that bus while there was still time. But then, I chose otherwise.

My bus drives away and at the back of my head, I know that it would be long before the next one pulls in. But I comfort myself, with the fact that I am sitting next to a pretty one. Many thoughts run through my mind. I think of various ways to approach her, to strike a conversation, build a contact, maybe even a relation. But I am faced with a major hurdle; I cannot help but ogle at her looks. And just when I muster courage to approach her, something happens.

A taxi pulls up at the bus stand. Out of the window gestures a young man. The other man and woman at the stand go to the taxi. Seeing the opportunity, I decide to speak to this stranger. But then I hear the woman by the taxi call out, “Arre yaar! Jaldi aana!” She was calling out to my stranger. To my luck, or bad luck, this stranger immediately gets up, and heads to the taxi. I now realise that she was with the other man and woman. I look at her, with a long face, at a chance that I missed. I watch her call the person out of the taxi. Surprisingly, the rains had ceased to a drizzle. The person who gets out of the taxi, is also bespectacled, but wearing a purple kurta. I watch her face glow along with the other two as they all greet the new face. I look at him in remorse, envying his luck of having a company as her. Then I see them giving the large bag to the guy from the taxi. And I see my stranger giving the bouquet to this man too. All this happens as the other two laughs out. Amusingly, the new face is visibly embarrassed. I let out a smile, realising that it might be his birthday. And just as I am thinking, the guy is reluctant to take the flowers. That leads to more laughter from the friends. Finally, the guy accepts the flowers and hastily ushers the friends and my stranger into the waiting taxi.

The taxi drives away and at the back of my head, I know that I have made a fool of myself. And I laugh at my stupidity. I know that it’s a long time before the next bus to my uncle’s place pulls in, but until then I know that I will be preoccupied with my chance meeting with a perfect stranger…

( I wrote this piece for a friend, who really enjoyed my birthday dinner. She wanted me to write about that evening... So I wrote this piece, keeping her as the central character...

She like it, in the end...)

Misleading Affections

Even before I could open the door, I could hear the phone ringing. I peered through the glass. In room dining was busy. I sighed at the sight, and prepared myself for a long evening at work. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. I saw James moving to the elevator with a food trolley. I looked and him, and he returned my glance with a sigh, saying, “I hope you like the welcome party.” I knew that he was referring to the rush in my department. “I couldn’t have asked for anything else.” I said with a smirk. James laughed and waved his hand as the elevator doors shut. I came to my department and looked into the cabin. Alice the order taker smiled to me as she was on the phone. It had to be a guest call, I told myself. I stood at the captain’s desk and looked at the orders that had gone till now. I blew a low whistle looking at the eighteen orders that had already left. It was barely thirty minutes past seven, and dinner seemed to be rocking. Just then I heard Alice call out to me, “Good evening honey, look what I got for you.”
Expecting it to be a rare show of affection from that pretty girl, I shifted my gaze to her. Instead, I saw her hand out a piece of paper from the cabin. It was a Kitchen Order Ticket (KOT). In fact, it was quite an elaborate order for a guest. I looked at her and caught her mischievous grin. “Nice one Al,” I told her. She giggled and winked at me. Ah well, I thought, that was all I needed. I handed the dinner order to Sam, the trainee, and told him to set the order on a proper trolley. I then went towards the kitchen to confirm the KOT. After a while, as I waited for the order to be picked up, James stood next to me. He too was waiting for another order. We got on talking about the previous day. I had just returned from leave and had a lot to share. But then, James seemed eager to speak. So I held my peace, and allowed him to proceed. He told me that he had just come from a very fussy guest’s room. I smiled at his plight. I too had experienced it in the past. He went on, imitating the guest in actions. I laughed at him. He looked at me, wondering. I asked him what. “What was so funny?” he questioned me, continuing, “I actually suffered there.” I just patted his back, and said, “Don’t bother Jamie, you seem fine. Wait, let me guess. The guest was a lady, right?” James now smiled and said, “Yes, it was a lady. And yes, she was irritating, but that did not stop me from feeling good about her pretty face. You should have seen her.” I just listened for a while, for his words were not making any sense. It seemed to me that he derived pleasure from pain.
Just then the chef called out from behind the kitchen counter, “Who has got room 208?” It was my order, and I replied, “That’s mine!”
“I hope your trolley is ready with a hot case.”
“All set and plugged in, waiting for the food.”
“Alright, get the trolley, food is almost ready for pickup.”
I turned to James and told him that we would speak later. He asked about his order and soon caught up with me. I looked at him questioningly. He simply shrugged and told me that the order was not ready, and that he had to check his trolley. Then he asked, “You are going to 208?” I was inspecting my trolley as I said yes. “Well,” he said, “that guest is a gem of a person. Tips well and has a very good nature.” I was barely listening, as I was checking Sam’s trolley setup. I approved of the setup and then told James, “Well, you know my policy, I don’t believe until I see it for myself.” He smiled knowingly. I then went to the kitchen to pick up the food. As chef said, the food was ready at the counter. I stacked the food in the hot case, and moved to the elevator. I picked up the bill in the check folder. When the elevator door opened, I called on Sam to remove the old clearance lying on the floor of the elevator. Soon I was on my way up.
As I moved the food trolley out of the elevator, I came across Marianne, the housekeeping supervisor. The poor girl seemed hassled and worked up. I pushed the trolley in her direction and asked, “Hey babe, what’s up?” She just looked at me. After a pause, she just nodded her head. “Hey Marie,” I caught up with her, asking again, “what’s the matter?”
“Oh, it’s nothing… I am just frustrated with the guests today. Can you imagine how demanding they can be?”
“Ah, yes,” I replied, “I know…”
“No, you don’t!” she cut me short, continuing to complain about the near impossible demands she had to achieve. I knew I had to get away from her now.
“Ah,” I exclaimed, relieved inwardly, “I guess this is my corridor, Marianne.” I was indicating my turn to my room order. She looked at me with a smile and told me that she would catch up with me later. I bid her goodbye, and quickly proceeded with my room order.
Finally! I reached room 208. I reconfirmed the room number from the bill I was carrying; I feared that I was misled by that Marianne’s constant blabber of complaints. Thankfully, I was standing at the right room. Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell and announced myself in a loud voice. “IN ROOM DINING!!!” was what I said. As I waited for the door to open, I just looked at the guest name. It read ‘Mr. Atlee’. The door still did not open. I looked sideways at both ends of the corridor, hoping to see the floor butler or the housekeeping attendant. But none appeared. Then, I rang the bell a second time, announcing myself in a much louder voice. Finally, I heard hushed footsteps behind the door. I silently thanked God as I heard the door being unlatched. At last, the door opened. And I said instantly, “Good evening, Mr. Atlee.” But I knew that I was hasty in my greeting when I heard a very feminine voice say, “Oh good evening! Do come in.”
I looked at the person who addressed me. It was a lady, a young lady. I immediately apologised for the mistake. But she laughed it out, saying that such things happen all the time with her, and that she had gotten used to it. She then stepped aside, indicating me to come in. I pushed in the trolley and shut the door behind me. I turned to her and got my first glimpse of her. She was of good height, with long, curly black hair, wrapped in the hotel’s yukada. I asked her where she would want me to set up the trolley for dinner. She looked around the living space, and looked back at me questioningly. I smiled at her and suggested the sofa by the television. She smiled and nodded her head. She told me that she would be back in a jiffy. I replied, “Yes Ms. Atlee.” And she went into the bedroom.
By the time she came back, I had the table set up and secured in front of the sofa. She smiled and asked me where the food was. I smiled back and told her that the food was in the hot case. She laughed and told me to take it out. I replied, “Yes, Ms. Atlee.”
“Oh, please,” she said instantly, “call me Rachel.”
“Yes, uh, Rachel, Ma’am.” She laughed out at my embarrassing reply. I then told her that the dinner was ready, and I offered to serve her the meal. She obliged. After I seated her and placed the unfolded napkin in her waiting hands, I explained her dinner order. It was then when I realised that this was too much food for a single person to eat. By the time I was done explaining the various dishes on the table, inside me I was cursing the stupidity of Alice, the order taker. I was so sure that a lot of food was going to go to waste. But somehow, Rachel seemed to read my thoughts. She just shook her head knowingly, telling me that this was exactly the portion of food that she had ordered. How graceful of her, I thought in awe. That was when I really looked at her.
She was clearly in her late twenties, blessed with glowing skin. I looked at her thin and well manicured fingers that grasped the water goblet. I watched those fingers raise the goblet to her face, emptying its contents into her mouth outlined with full, bare and naturally pink lips. I watched the skin stretch across her prominent and well chiselled jawbone as she drank from the goblet. Her wrinkle-free neck swayed rhythmically with every gulp of water. Part of her neck was covered with wet and curly black hair. It was now obvious that she was at the shower when I rang the bell the first time. As I poured the rosemary jus on her Fillet mignon, I watched her perfectly shaped eyebrows arch in satisfaction. She had a very sharp nose, and a lovely set of eyes that looked intently at the food she was about to devour. As a matter of fact, I too gazed at this angel I was with at the moment. I had never met anyone who was so breathtakingly beautiful and as warm as her. And for the first time, I realised that beyond doubt, I had a major crush on Ms. Rachel.
Just before she began to eat, she looked at me and gave me a warm smile. I could have drooled at that moment. She thanked me, and told me that she would leave the trolley outside the door when she was done. Trying not to lose the opportunity of seeing her again, I asked if she would like to try some desserts. She smiled, as if knowingly, and told me that with have to think over it. I smiled at her beamingly. I felt like a schoolboy, falling head over heels over his favourite actress. I presented the dinner bill to her and took her signature. I thanked her and left the room. I walked a distance to the elevator, and stopped. I paused for a moment. I thought over the person I had interacted with. She was the most amazing lady I had met since I started working. I made up my mind to wow her at every possible moment of her stay. It would be great to be in touch with her on a personal level. With a mischievous smile, I walked to the elevator. When the elevator door opened, I saw another clearance on the floor. I sighed at the sight. I knew it had to be one of the housekeeping attendants making his work easier. Ah well, I thought to myself as I picked up the tray clearance, back to reality.
The moment I stepped back into my department, I was amused to see Sam lost and confused at the pending number of KOTs. I could not blame him. It was his first week, and he was learning the ropes rather quickly. The moment he saw me, he took the clearance from me and said, “Dude, look at the flow of orders.” I shrugged my shoulders in resentment saying, “Here comes the rain.” I was obviously referring to the number of KOTs. Soon I got into the workflow. In moments like these, you have to haggle, or bargain. And in this case I haggle for time, from the chefs. That way I would ensure that my orders leave the department without a single call from an anxious and hungry guest. If I was to get that kind of a call, I would find myself in a very embarrassing situation. But on that dinner service, time flew. I did not even realise that two hours had passed since the start of dinner service. At last there was only one order at the counter. It was a cold coffee order. I looked into the cabin and told Alice that James and I would be upstairs in the cafeteria. I also told her to give a call if there was any other order, and to check the cold coffee before Sam takes it up. I waited for James, and soon we headed for a much needed break.
While we were sipping coffee, I suddenly realised that I had forgotten about room 208. I asked James, “Dude, I went to 208, and boy! What a person!”
James was lost for a moment, and suddenly he burst out, “Oh yeah! See? I told you,” he continued, “isn’t she a beauty?”
I stopped short. “Wait,” I said, “are you telling me that you knew that the guest in 208 was a lady?”
“Yeah, of course. So what’s the big deal?”
“‘What’s the big deal?’” I responded, agitated, “Jamie, I made a fool of myself, calling her Mister!”
“Chill dude. Relax! It’s a common error I make, I admit. I am sure you feasted your eyes on a real beauty.”
“Knock it off, James. She is a very pretty lady, alright. But she is not the kind of woman you are thinking of.”
“What?” exclaimed a very amused James, “so what ‘kind of woman’ am I thinking of?”
Before I could fire back, I saw Marianne enter the cafeteria. I relaxed a bit. Though she was a blabbermouth, the complaining would be more bearable than James’ playboy-like remarks. She poured herself a cup of coffee and headed to our table. Just as she sat down, James turned and asked her how the day was. She let out a sigh, and poured out her heart. I closed my eyes and continued to sip my now cold coffee. For now, her complaints were music to my ears. I was beginning to enjoy my coffee. But my pleasure was short-lived. I opened my eyes she mentioned ‘Mr. Atlee’. I stared at her. She looked at me as she spoke, but stopped short, confused by my stare. “What?” she asked me cautiously, “What did I say?”
“Come on Marie,” I laughed, “surely you know that there is no ‘Mr. Atlee’.”
Marianne was blank for a moment. James let out a small laugh. I continued to look at her. Then she told me, “Come on dude, I supervise the rooms, I meet the guests on a daily basis, and being a girl, I DEFINITELY know who is a man and who’s not! And what’s more, I even spoke to that bugger before heading down here.”
Now I was confused. Confused as hell. I looked at Marianne expressionless, or rather, lost. I turned to James. He stifled a laugh and tried to put up a serious face. I was definitely missing something. “Are you sure that ‘he’ is the only one in the room?” I asked her, quizzically.
She simply nodded her head.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed, “I went to that room myself, and instead of meeting a fussy bugger-of-a-guy as you very well described him to be, I met… I met an Angel…”
This time to mine and James’ amazement, Marianne burst out laughing. “Aw, come on, dude!” she guffawed, “since when did you change you sexual preference?”
I was flustered, all the more with Marianne’s laughter. “Marie, this is no joke,” I continued calmly, “I really like this person, there is n…”
“Oh I am so perfectly cool if you like guys,” She said with a large smile writ on her face, “It’s normal to accept such things and its mighty brave of you to make such a statement.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Marianne!!!” I raised my voice. She quietened almost immediately. “I am serious, Marie,” I continued, “I know that my eyes were not playing tricks on me when I saw the most beautiful girl there. For goodness sake, girl, I was holding a hot sauceboat in my hand, so there is absolutely NO way that I was dreaming.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, “so there might have been a girl with him…”
“Oh yes,” contributed James, slouching on his chair, “I am certain that there is a girl in that room.” Both Marianne and I look at him. I suddenly realised that James WAS aware of a girl in this room. “You know about this?” enquired a surprised Marianne.
“Yeah, sure I know her.” he continued, “As a matter of fact I served her dinner last Saturday.”
“She was here LAST Saturday?” I asked stunned.
“Yeah dude,” he continued, taking another sip of his coffee, “she usually checks in every weekend.”
“Wait a minute,” said Marianne, with a pause, “wait a minute…”
Both James and I looked at her silence. She rummaged through her reports for a moment. Then she looked at me, and asked, “Her name is Rachel, right?”
I thanked God aloud and exclaimed, “Finally! We are getting somewhere.”
“Well, um, not really.”
I looked at Marianne, amused, asking her, “Now what do you mean by that? And where is your ‘Mr. Atlee’?”
“Oh, he very much exists, and is also staying with us. The small detail we overlooked is that Mr. Atlee does not have one booking, but two rooms booked on his name. Rooms 526 and 208. The ‘Atlee’ that I met often today for his never ending demands is in room 526, and your ‘Rachel’ is…”
“In room 208, I see.” I replied quietly.
“And brother,” said James, patting my back, “that’s not all.” I looked at him. He was instead looking at Marianne, indicating her to proceed. I looked at her instinctively.
“You see, dude,” she spoke, looking directly at me, “that Rachel you seem to have fallen head over heels for, works as an escort. And she is his escort this time…”
“… and she is the kind of escort that I would REALLY talking about.” completed James with a cynical smile.
I could not believe my ears. I was silent. More than anything else, I was heartbroken. Rachel was so innocent looking, so lovely in sight, so warm in heart and so witty in spirit. But in the end, she was a professional escort. That very thought engulfed every other notion and fantasy I had thought and dreamt of her. I looked at James and Marianne giggling at my foolishness. They had every right to do so. I was a fool again, going for what my eyes saw. And just when I thought the worse was over, I heard the phone ring. I was brought back to reality. I looked at my buddies sitting in front of me as the phone continued to ring. They didn’t seem to pay attention to the call. So I got up. I picked up the phone, expecting a fresh order. And I was right. I was glad for that order, I was sure that it would take my mind off heartbreak. But before I disconnected, something at the back of my head nudged me. So I asked, “Alice? Can you tell me whose order it is?”
“Dude, its two dark chocolate supreme orders for room 208, Mr. Atlee. You coming? ”
That was the last straw. I could not believe my streak of bad luck. I turned to James and Marianne. James caught my gaze and stopped laughing. He got up, came over and said, “Something’s up.” I smiled at him. I told him that Rachel had ordered two desserts to her room. James understood. He patted my back and said, “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll take care of that. Chill out, I will follow up on that order. Give me that phone.” He took the phone and spoke up, “Yo! Alice, my babe! I’m coming at you, so you better lay out that dessert for me. Thanks darling!!!” and he kept the phone. He winked at me, and ran to the department. I sighed and turned to the coffee machine.
I sat back at Marianne’s table. She asked what happened, and I told her about the dessert order. She empathized with me with a very audible and visible ‘Oh!’ expression. I did not really look at her. She then stretched out her right hand and held mine gently. I looked at her. She smiled, and told me that it’s okay, and told me not to worry. To be frank, at that point, worry was the last thing on my mind. That’s because I had never seen Marianne so compassionate and gentle to me. Sipping the fresh coffee, I began to wonder if there was something brewing between us. And then, all of a sudden, a fleeting thought of Rachel passed my mind. It rubbished every fresh thought of Marianne that I thought of. I smiled. Somehow, Marianne noticed the smirk on my face. She chuckled warily, releasing my hand, and asked, “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing,” I continued, smiling, taking a sip of my now hot coffee, “nothing at all.”

Love, Beyond Words...

Many words were spent on an emotion called Love. Many love stories were written on the very expression of love. And today I was going to be changed with love.

The church was packed and tension was in the air. And I was in the middle of all that tension. I stood near the altar along with two of my best friends. They were talking to each other, standing a bit away from me. I looked around me. There were many people, both known and unknown to me. To my left were two young women who I barely knew, coupled with three cute tiny tots in flowery pink frocks. The tiny children had miniature tiaras on their heads. And they never stopped readjusting each other’s glittering crowns, much to the delight of the two women overlooking them. I turned to the hall.

The space was cavernous and multi-hued colors poured from the stained glass murals in the tall church walls. Men and women sat with each other, all dressed in crisp tuxedoes and satin gowns. They had filled up both sides of the aisle. My relatives and known friends sat at the section behind me. I looked to the other section, and knew that I had to get acquainted with many new friends. The aisle was lined with white lilacs and sunflowers. Cream satin covered arches with red roses covered the aisle. The choir was sitting on the side, with their black and purple church gowns. The pianist sat at the pipe organ, while the violinists joined him in playing a few hymns. The guitarist sat quietly looking at the gathering. The choir seemed calm with their song folders in their hands. I looked at my watch and sighed. I closed my eyes for a moment. It was time.

Just then the organist and violinists ceased their instrumentals. Instinctively I looked at them. They were looking towards the end of the hall. I turned my eyes in the same direction. And I began to sweat. One pair at a time, a woman and a man walked down the aisle. There were three pairs, the women in silver blue gowns and men in crisp tuxedoes. The women were my colleagues and friends, while the men were my new friends. As they walked down the aisle, the violinists played a soft sonata. My best friends patted me on my shoulder and went to their seats. The two young women led the three small children with flowers to their seats. The men and women walking the aisle separated at the altar, the three men coming to my side, and the three women standing on the other side. I smiled at the men and women at the altar with me, and looked in anticipation towards the end of the hall. To add to the anxiety, the violinists too concluded their sonata. Silence filled the hall.

It was noon, and light shone through the main door of the church. My palms were clammy. Just then a shadow spread from the church entrance. In unison, the gathering rose to their feet. They looked to the end of the hall. The organist started playing his piece. Just as the music filled the emptiness of the spacious hallway, I smiled to myself and closed my eyes for a moment. The music seeped into my mind, bringing back a memory. A week earlier, she told me that she loved Coldplay’s ‘Fix You’ for its meaningful lyrics. And she even told me how much it related me to her. And today, on the most important day of her life yet, her favorite song filled the hallowed emptiness of the church. It was a bold step, since the priest was orthodox in the ways of the Church. But he had a good heart, and gave his consent for the song to be played. Prior to this day, I sat down with the choir and explained the need for this song and told them to give it a soulful composition. And today, as I listened to the song playing from the pipe organ, guitar and violins, I knew that this WAS her song. The song was perfect, and this was her moment.

A silhouette was visible at the entrance. But as they came close, I saw Clara, my love, holding the arm of her father. When I saw her clearly, tension left me. She looked lovely in her flowing white gown. White satin flowers seemed to fall down her gown as she slowly walked down the aisle, towards me. The gown trailed behind her, giving an effect of her walking amidst white roses. The gown was simple, yet it highlighted her figure with every step she took. A thin white veil fell from her tiara, covering her glowing face. Clara held a bouquet of pink roses in her white, long gloved hands. She wrapped her right hand around her proud father’s left arm. As with me, all the people gathered in the hall were amazed at the transformation of a girl who grew up before their very eyes. She looked beautiful, and I was so proud of her. As the choir started to sing ‘Fix You’, Clara looked them and then at me in amazement. And she started to cry.

Many people sighed at the sight, and some women blotted their eyes with their handkerchiefs. I too was overwhelmed with emotion, and tears welled up in my eyes. Her father patted her hand in consolation and smiled, braving a tear. As she neared me, I stretched out my right hand. She managed a smile, and looked at my hand. At the front row, she turned to her father. Her father lifted her veil and kissed her cheek. He then went and sat next to Clara’s mother, who was already crying in joy. I looked at my parents, and saw them hold each other’s hands. They smiled at me and nodded in consent. I smiled back at them, silent as ever. Clara turned to me and smiled. She took my hand and stepped up to the altar beside me. She covered her face again with the veil. I looked through her veil into her moist eyes, never letting go of her hand. Clara and I looked towards the altar at the priest. The reverend smiled at us and beckoned the congregation to sit down. The congregation sat down. The choir remained standing, softly singing the song while the priest began to recite.

Clara always dreamt of a short and memorable wedding. Today she was getting what she wanted. We faced each other as the reverend spoke. He spoke of the commitment of two souls, in harmony, through love and pain, joy and sorrow, and through the journey of Life. But I was not listening. I was lost in the mesmerizing sight of Clara in front of me. I looked at her cherubic face, those moist eyes, scarlet lips curving into a smile, her thick curly hair that fell to her slender shoulders, her neck decorated with a string of pearls and her ears glittering with pearl solitaires. I held Clara’s hands in mine, and felt its warmth. As she gently gripped my hands with a smile on her teary face, we promised each other a lifetime of commitment and love, without saying a word. I looked at the priest, who continued, saying, “Shall we have the rings?”

The bridesmaid and the best man presented the rings to Clara and me. As the Reverend pronounced the vows, we exchanged rings. My hand was trembling as I slowly slid the wedding band up her ring finger. My heart fluttered, and my spirits rose. The priest smiled at us.

And he said, “Before this gathering, you have promised each other your love and have given each other rings to wear as a sign of your deep commitment. It is my distinct pleasure to declare that you are now husband and wife. You may kiss one another.”

I looked at her and smiled. She quickly lifted her veil and smiled, tears streaming down her face. I wrapped my hands around her and held her tight. Then with one hand behind her head, I looked into her eyes for a moment. Her eyes were barely open and her head bent back, waiting for the kiss. And we kissed. The choir still sang our song, and the congregation rose to an applause. When we parted, we thanked the priest and faced the gathering. The three cute flower girls came forward and gave Clara flowers. Clara bent low and gave each girl a kiss on the cheek. She got up and looked at me. I smiled at her and kissed her again, much to the encore demanded by the gathering. And the rain of rice fell on us both.

Holding her hand, we ran down the aisle towards the doorway of the church. At the entrance, the warmth of the sun greeted us in our new life as one. There was our getaway car ready at the church entrance. I went over and got into the car. As I opened the door for Clara, I saw her toss the flower bouquet behind her. Rounds of cheers emanated from the crowd as the bouquet landed in the hands of a lucky young woman. Clara quickly got into the car and we both waved out goodbye. As we drove out of the church’s courtyard through the wrought iron church gates, I felt a rush of emotions through me. It was coupled with the feeling of Clara wrapping her arms around my neck as she rested on my shoulder. We were married at last.

After driving a while, we stopped on the side of the road. I turned off the engine. I looked at her. She returned my look, and I could see that she was relieved. Then she sat back, and moved her hands in a series of gestures. I read her signals and responded back through hand gestures, telling her that we will first go to the hotel and change up for the reception. She looked at me in silence. I signaled her, asking what’s the matter. She paused a while and replied with gestures ending with a closed fist over her heart, telling me that she loves me forever. I did not gesture back at her. Instead, with fresh tears in my eyes, I reached out and kissed her once again.

As we treasured a private moment in tender passion, I still couldn’t believe that I would have found love and companionship in a person with a speech disability as I. And today, I was glad that that person was none other than Clara. It was in her that i had really discovered love, beyond words.

--- FIN ---

00:00:09:76

For the love of Spirit...


00:00:00:00

Bang!” went the pistol. At that instant, Justin’s vision was blurred. He hurled himself off the ground with his mammoth legs, packing enough thrust that he could have moved almost 260 kg. He moved his toned arms rhythmically to balance himself. So powerful was the thrust that blood rushed to his head. His lungs contracted, and he took short, controlled gasps of air.

00:00:01:14

By this time, Justin had covered 11 meters. The rush of adrenaline mounted within him. By now, he recovered from the thrust, and his sight became clearer. He had literally flown with the drag effect resulting from the initial thrust. He felt light and near weightlessness for the first instant, managing to touch the ground nearly 5 times on foot.

00:00:02:42

23 meters covered, and Justin felt the drag reduce. His eyes were red with the rush of blood to his head. He felt his eyes ready to pop out of their cavities. The pain was unbearable. His heart kept pumping blood, but not enough was returning back. Involuntarily, he started breathing faster, his diaphragm moving up and down in ascending motion. This action pressed against his lungs and heart. It massaged his heart and gradually the inflow of blood increased. And Justin felt the pain ebb away.

00:00:03:40

Exactly 98 milliseconds later, Justin ran 35 meters. At this speed, he felt the air howl past him. But through the rush of cold air, he could hear heavy breathing. It was not his. He could hear someone pounding the tracks not far behind him. He was not done, yet, he said to himself. He lowered his posture a little to cut the drag. The new material in his racing suit was like the land version of the swimmer’s ‘shark suit’. The air resistance was unlike he had felt before. The airflow enveloped his body suit resulting in lesser resistance to the air. And with glee, he picked up speed. The rhythmic throbbing of his heart seemed to give him new energy.

00:00:04:32

47 meters covered, and a new problem was unfurling. His legs numbed. His arms stiffened. He strained to move his arms to and fro. But he saw the crowd whizzing past. The floodlights were glaring. The lights seemed to navigate him down the rubber tracks. It was an exhilarating experience for Justin. He captured the moment through the corner of his eye. But the thuds and huffing behind him cut everything off. They were getting louder, clearer and dangerously, closer. Instincts told Justin that something was terribly wrong. And through the mounting pressure, he tried to focus on the sprint.

00:00:05:67

Tim had crossed 60 meters, and he managed to get a glimpse of his competitor. Through the corner of his eye he could make out the navy blue and white spandex and the glistening stud on his ear. It was Olusoji Fasuban, and he was gaining on Justin. And to make matters worse, Olusoji seemed energized. He was closing on Justin with relative ease. The effort was going to be hard. For both men, that is.

00:00:06:52

28 meters to go, and both Justin and Olusoji were neck to neck. Justin’s heart pounded heavily, and he had a bout of breathlessness. But through his setbacks he stayed focused. He never took his eyes off the strip of white at the finish line. To make matters worse, trouble was getting the better of him. He tried to fight away the numbness in his leg. Justin tried to synchronize his running rhythm. But to his dismay, when he looked forward, Olusoji was getting away. And then, for a moment, he lost hope.

00:00:07:89

81 meters over, and Justin was 3cms away from Olusoji. It seemed a small distance to the on looking spectators. But Justin and Olusoji knew that a hundredth a second could make or break a race. Justin knew that it was not going to be easy. He was already having problems with his leg. He tried his best to control his breathing. And to his luck, his heart pumped oxy-rich blood into his system. With newfound energy, he surged ahead. And for the first time, he knew that he had a chance in this competition.

00:00:08:96

8 meters to go and Justin blazed across the tracks through the chilly air. At this speed, he felt the cold sweat fly off his face. He closed in on Olusoji, and both men knew that they were straining themselves. Justin’s abdomen was taut with his legs moving as quickly as possible. The throbbing of his heart made his chest hurt as if pounded by sledgehammers. It was a tiresome sprint, but he had faith in himself. And the finish line seemed closer than expected. He could do it, he told himself. He held his breath. And propelled himself forward with a gigantic leap.

00:00:09:76

81 milliseconds later, Justin felt something wrap itself across his chest as he ran. Gradually he slowed down, and covered his perspiring face with sweaty calloused hands. Through the intense pressure, tears and sweat rolled down his face. They were tears of joy.

Then with one hand, he held the winners banner that wrapped itself around him and ran the victor’s lap, acknowledging the spectator’s cheers. At the end, Olusoji came up and congratulated Justin for winning. Then Justin turned to look at the LCD screen clocking the time that he covered. He was shocked.

And to this day, he is the world record holder in the 100 meters men’s race at 9.76 seconds