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Who am I?
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The absurdity of the whole thing hit me suddenly. I was turning at the traffic signal when I veered to one side with no control over myself. It hit me that my life was exactly like a rick ride. Heading in a direction but prone to inadvertent jerks and turning points where I would have no control over my life.
It was not that way when Bobby was around. He had to do his bit in life. I had to listen to his calling and so did he. His calling came to eat him up and I lived with that. It was the living after his death that became a living hell. And then, one and half years later Rajdeep happened. Two months later Carmen. Three weeks after him Raghuveer. I don't even want to care anymore.
As the auto stopped at the signal, I realized it had to stop somewhere. It had been three years since Bobby. And those three years had gone by in a sort of game-playing, with myself, with others. If not playing then devising a new one each day. It made life a lot more interesting and who could say I was not "making" it happen!!!
Sri opened the door and smiled at me. I could see the tension in his eyes. He quickly scanned to see if any of the neighbours had noticed my coming before he closed the door. Once he did, he quickly took me in his arms and nuzzled my neck. A kiss followed with a couple of more. Some passion and after both of us had had enough we just lay there staring at the whirring fan. Sri had never evinced long-term interest in me. Both of us liked to live in the here and now for different reasons albeit. He reached out for me. I turned over and gave into his lukewarm hug. Both of us didn't know what we wanted from each other. What we were looking for or what made us complete (or incomplete for that matter). This, all this, gave us a sense of satisfaction beyond the physical and both didn't know what else we wanted from it so we clung to it. For the time being.
Each man had been like that since Bobby. Either a cardboard cut-out or a testosterone-driven hunter. I found them everywhere. Fancy cafés, boardrooms, executive dinners, hotel lobbies, art exhibitions, movie halls and neighbourhoods. Long-term, short-term all the types. I brought some of them home. My home was a museum. Large, gothic, with oil paintings framed in rosewood and a persistent smell of camphor everywhere. I brought them home at times to scare them. At other times to impress them, and at other times, to gauge them by their reaction to the house. It was somewhat like me. If they were impressed, I knew they would be enchanted with the mysterious, magical in me. If they were warmly nostalgic, I knew they would appreciate my old-world values because somewhere even they were old-world people. They identified with my house. If they were intimidated, I would step back. The guy didn't know how to handle class and the subsequent arrogance that came with it.
Bobby had been unimpressed. The only guy to react so. He had seen right through my enchanted princess act. He remained unimpressed as I switched to my coy damsel, coquette, intellectual until I had exhausted all my acts. I remember how we swung on the swing in the garden for three hours while we chatted and laughed and joked and cried together. I miss you Bobby.
And, I also miss the self I had found through our lovely love. Life was a no act play then. As seamless as real. Yet, never devoid of any of the fresh rain-washed earth fragrance, that only that one special, love has. That is as real as magical. In my case, it was more magical as the reality ceased to exist after a point.
Oh! Damn, why is the phone ringing when I want to sit and day-dream right now? It's Srikant, I am wondering if I want to pick-up. He generally never calls immediately after we've met. I picked up the phone and it got cut. I didn't bother calling back. But he did and I picked it up at the first ring. He was calling me over. Something about missing me. All I could think of in response was, huh?
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