Avi Speaks

1. It unfurls ..
“I have a last name. My identity is complete. Have you ever felt hollow on the inside. Lonely because you don’t share the name the connection with the people you share a roof with. I felt that all my life. Each of those days is livid in front of my eyes. I don’t know why my folks never gave me a last name. I feel they never gave it a thought, I feel they never gave me a thought.”

I paused for a second. The silence was growing on my mind and I felt submerged in it.

“Avi Sharma. Ecstasy ! I can’t hold it in myself. It feels like exploding, I try to control it by counting the revolutions of the celing fan. Against a white background, the black blades of an eternal rotation.
One .. two .. three.
His face is clear, I can see it across the scarlet night lamp’s glow briefly interspersed by the fan blades. He is smiling at me, happy that I am content. The room is a lovely white, the rose petals on the bed complement the rose on my cheeks, in the parting of my hair and the blood red on the bed sheet. A conjugal bed, a calm night, a silent mind and a loving husband bedside. Life is turning for good.
Four.. five.. six.
Sleep is rare when the heart leaps, the thud across my chest is so loud I fear it will awaken Aru. Try to calm down.
Seven.. eight.. nine.
I look at the wall clock. I always loved doing that. Awake till mid-night, just to look at the date change. It can give you a feeling of both desperation – to catch the day you just wiled away – and a sense of achievement at the same time for having survived it. It is this mixed exasperation and delight that draws me to it and I stare at the clock every single night as both hands overlap as if a communion of the beloved – long awaited unfulfilled desire coming true, just for a minute though. And yet, that second of closeness, proximity and passion is a defining moment that justifies the day, gives it an existence, a present a past. And this consummation conceives the future, the next day – thereby completing the cycle of time – the cycle of life.
Ten.. eleven.. twelve.
A slight shadow across the window attracts my attention. The tulsi plant outside our window is shivering in the windy delhi night. Our window, our tulsi, our night. The transformation from I to we, my to our, is beautiful and completing.
Thirteen.. fourteen.. fifteen.
They say orgasm is the best gift a man can give a woman, I feel it’s the identity, a self-belief and the whole life falls into perspective. As the hands separate in the clock, Aru falls into a deep slumber. I grope around for my pack of cigs. They say smoking feels great after sex. It is not there. Let me look at his side of the bed. Got it. As I light one up, the dark of the night weighs on my heart like an unfinished story and an unfinished story it is, my life. Its our first night together after marriage.
Sixteen.. Seventeen.. Eighteen.
Marriage .. it feels strange to think about Aru and marriage in one thought. Puff … I like the haze it leaves in front of my eyes. And as my mind clears .. my eyes haze out slowly, into a trance, a tranquil sleepy haze, that starts in the mind and takes me back, back to the day I first saw him.”

All eyes were transfixed on me. I anticipated the adoration in their eyes. The voice continued.

“It was not love at first sight. In fact, I did not even know about love at the time of that sight.”

I thought – corny one liner. I don’t even know about it now. He smiled with the gaze.

“I like to think of love as a potent sentiment that can arise from stagnant emotions for a need of dynamism, growth – a selfish engrossing need to identify oneself with another being. It can start from concern, sympathy or even hate. And it grows on your persona ever so slowly, like a creeper that needs the supporting stem when it begins, but afterwards the existence of the support is defined by the creeper itself, as the plant capers over and engulfs the very personality of the support and transforms it into a plant itself.”

There was an appreciative murmur in the crowd. Bah! Humbug, the pseudo-intellectual in me .. ! I will get to it in due time. Let the storyteller stay behind the story for the time being.

“Anyways, I felt like it was a dream or is my mind conjuring up lovelorn pictures of a first encounter, I don’t know and I will never find out. Nor do I intend to try. I am happy with the ironies, the contradictions of my love story.”

My mind was racing ahead of my voice. The thoughts and the story were becoming one.

“Sometimes, I feel as if, we – as a race – are dreaming a collective dream and this whole world is an apparition in all of our minds. It started with befooling others and then the lie became so convincing and it cast a spell, a web around us. Aru was such an apparition only, beautiful, disturbed yet calm and unwillingly I was drawn to him the moment I saw him. But, again I like to believe that it was not love at first sight. Love at first sight has a sense of desperation attached to it. It signifies that I was looking for love in the first place and found it in him and accepted it undeniably, unquestioningly as the final truth, as the meaning of my existence or the existence of my meaning or both. So, the story as I tell it is not love at first sight. The story really is not in my hand. I keep putting thoughts ahead of facts –feelings ahead of incidents – self ahead of the story. I really am a selfish author. (Sheepish Grin).”

The hall burst into a deafening round of applause. I suddenly felt very conscious of a perspiring throat. As I looked around for a glass of water, I could sense the nervous twitching beginning once again. It happened always – amidst the applause, the guilt surfaced yet again. I looked for the calming face, it was there, as always. He handed the glass of water to me. I gulped it down in one go, my gaze transfixed on him, all the time. He wore the customary white chemiz with black trousers. I could not remember a time when he had seen him wearing anything else. It was as if he was born with it and the clothes just grew with him. I smiled at the thought. It was reviving. The crowd was still applauding the excerpt. It had been years in the making, these claps, these appreciations, the looks and now, as it materialized in front of me, I could not hold back the tears, howsoever hard I tried.

“Great reading Ma’am. You were exquisite.” The familiar honey tongued Gullak.
“Were you expecting something less …” I replied.

He fumbled for words as always. There was an unusual wily air about him today, more self-assured than he normally seemed. And yet, he groped around for words. I always wonder why such a good manager as he was he was lost for words – maybe he just thought too fast and was unable to match his tongue. His name is not Gullak, but for the matter of the story, we ll let it be. I am Arusha Virmani, I am just returning from the first reading of my debut novel.
“No Ma’am, umm not at at all” Gullak fumbled once again.
“Call the driver. I want to go home.” Home. A wondrous word indeed. There is such closeness, a sort of intimacy in the pronunciation itself.

2. And then furled
The slow brooding tobacco-breath more than the knock on my desk woke me up from my slumber. I looked around for a cover.
Something, anything.
Nothing.
Sigh !
It is impossible to escape the wrath of a Machine Drawing professor – intent on putting you through the grind of having to draw a grinder from all sides – especially when found sleeping in a class on tolerences.
It brought a quirky smile of my face yet again or so I thought.

“Such behavior will not be tolerated in my class.” – He screamed at the top of voice.
“But it is a class of tolerences, is it not?” – I almost half blurted the stupid thought. I am quite self contained though and will always be proud to have held it in.
“I am sorry sir.” – is what I finally said.
“Sorry. huh! The audacity to sleep and then you don’t even respect me enough to stand up while responding.” – And he proceeded to strike out all my attendences from the register none-the-less.
I could almost hear the slushing sound of all the got-up-at-7:50-puffy-eyed efforts going down the drain.
Gush, gullup, gullup, phissh!

I am not Arusha Virmani, but for sure I want to be – despite needing a sex change. I have been dreamy always – I never could figure out why I dreamt of myself as a lady though – but never have the dreams struck me so hard where it hurts most. As I tried to get up in a panic-struck moment of insanity, my innards squashed against the table. I half-hoped the resulting expression would melt the prof.’s heart. Anyhow, that is my story as it starts. A devoted engineering student at your service.

3. Who the hell is this Arusha Virmani ?
“You were just so laid back in your ironies, just too self-un-involved. Always going round-about about and about .. again and again .. It was I who made life a challenge for you. I gave you direction, a way forward, I brought you face to face with reality, with truth ….” She cribbed twirling the strand of hair on her finger absentmindedly. I sort of loved that about her. She could be serious about everything in a playful way. And whenever I tried that, I got stuck up being .. stupid .. to put it mildly.

“Truth is just a sequence of random ideas, coincidences life throws at you, especially you, that you try to put together and see a bigger picture. The truth is that there is no truth. It’s all perception, your or mine, and mine says fuck the bigger picture ! I bask in the glory of my insignificance, I don’t matter and so I don’t care.” I blabbered wondering if this was the last line before she got up, and left. It hurt me though – that I was more concerned about the 18 rupees I would have to shell out for her Maggi in case she did that – than my love life going down the drain.

“And the bullcrap begins again. You really don’t give a shit to life, do you?”

“Life, aah! How strange it sounds coming from you, you just suck the juice out of it, churn it about and .. “

“Cut the crap, Roh.., there really is no worth talking to you. You don’t care about those who care, you don’t ..” – It was the ambition, I was sure..

“All I can say is, here we are celebrating the uselessness of a man, barely a man, in your supposed bigger picture. But to see the picture, you have to step out of the frame. That is what I am doing, when no one sees you, you see everything. I am just cleaning the lens, and for that the glasses have to be removed. I can go on and on with the metaphors as thats all I want to do … you need not bother.”

“I need not bother! All you ever do bothers me, bothers all of us. You are dumb, not suited for the world, our world.”
“Or maybe, the world is not suited for me. All I am trying to do is find out.”
“And what good would that do?”
“Why do you breathe?”
“What the fuck .. you are just …”
“No, no please answer. Why do you breathe?”
” Because you ass, if I don’t I will die”
“And if I don’t find out, I will die.”
“I guess that would be better, atleast for you.”
“Well, what can I say? I will find out.”

“Waiter, Bill please.” And I heaved a sigh of relief and in a gentlemanly way, pretended to put my share of the “treat” – a coffee and 2 smokes – but she won even that .. The 50 rupee note glistening on the table.

And that was our last conversation or so I thought. I thought it on all our dates these days. As the days of placement and suit wearing and interviews and GDs and tests and decision making began, our thoughts and our gestures had drifted apart. I was walking through the gallery by blue lagoon a puff in hand, a whistle on the lips
- Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya,
har fikr ko dhuein main udata chala gaya …
That day was crystal clear in my eyes, I wondered if I was imagining it or was it happening all over – the smoke making me hazy – 31st Decemeber ..

4. This day that year
The watch just kept ticking. A desperate stare at it again. I looked at the glass door pretending to be in deep thought.

A female silhouette – alright, a white jacket – she loves white, the light .. come into the light.!!

She returns the utter What-You-Staring-At look. Someone else. How many times, How many. I look at the watch once again. The lines from our chat running through my mind. It was __ PM. ______’s. 31st .

2006.!! Godammit yes. !! So, what was it. The waiter comes around again.
W : Anything else for you, sir.
I : No, I am waiting for someone.
Oh No, it’s the thoughts again. As if he is playing mind games with me. Yes, the crooked smile. Why doesn’t he ask. Why the hell.
The red appareled monster walks away returning the hostile stare.

A birthday party at the table in front. Oh, how mushy she seems – The girl in red top and black denims. Is she going to look like her ? or Her friend in black pullover? The one with the grey bag? Oh, how I hate it ? and them. So happy .Go celebrate at your home. I still manage the unfelt smile as the birthday girl looks at me. The nod – ‘Happy Birthday, unknown girl’. She nods too – ‘Buzz off, bugger’.

And that is when I realize how different how different .. just leave it. When will she come? And goodness, it’s been just five minutes I’ve been here. And that fat woman has eaten 3 pastries. Yes, the fat lady with the cute kid. And goodness gracious me, how blue are those pastries. As if all the blues that I can feel have been baked and served cold. Cold-hearted. Will she be fat? Is there a she?

I just avoid the cuddling-cute-couple with utter disdain, again. A total ab-use of time. I mean, what are you talking about. What on earth, that you haven’t looked up in .. in .. in the five minutes that I have been here. Me and the Red-Clothed waiter, I bet the same thought runs through his head too. And he threw a smile at me. I just ducked away. The hostile look is back.
I prepare for the speech and the look, that would save me the embarrassment – what would I say ? should I even go back home? Do I have enough money to make a living in Bombay? Aunt shelly would keep me till eternity? – staring past the window into the horizon. Have I been stood-up? Is this … is this oh, just leave it.

She smiled and said Hi. I could just muster the wave, the wave of the hand that blew the blues away. The fat lady, the birthday troupe, the waiter, the couple .. all smiling. The world is wonderful.

—-

Disclaimer – The names are fictitious. Do not look them up in google. Also, if you bear one of these, do not sue me, please. Any resembelance to living or dead people or animals is coincidental and unintentional.