Crevice

A ringing alarm woke her up. This is what she hates about Monday. Waking up to an alarm clock is symbolic of all the stress that a single woman, all of twenty three years has to handle, when she is living alone in metro city, away from her family. Her eyes refused to open up; she took a turn, gave her spine a stretch and decided to sleep for ten more minutes, thinking about her mother and the comfortable mornings in her small town home, where her mother woke her up, every day. Life in Delhi, for a young working-women like her begins with an alarm in the morning and ends with a TV remote in the night. She longed to go back to the comfort of home, to the smell of mom cooked food, to the cosiness of her room and a typical comfy, carefree feeling which you get only when parents are around.

The alarm rang again, trying to open up her bleary eyes; she moved her fingers to look for the phone as she felt someone’s touch. Ehhhhhhh …. ! With a shriek she jumped out of the bed. She got a feeling that the one who had touched her hand swiftly left the room before she got up. Her heart was pounding heavily; she took a while to gather the courage to move towards the living room. She walked up to her fridge, carefully looking sideways, she could see that the latch at her entrance door was locked, took a water bottle out from the fridge and opened it to sip some water. She took a peep in another bedroom of her two bedrooms flat and moved towards the kitchen. There was no one. May be it was just a thought or an illusion, she mumbled. There was no time to think more about it; she had to quickly get ready to be in time to catch 8.30 Metro.

She had almost finished her bath and raised her eye to look up at the clock on the bathroom wall, while tying the towel around her, which was showing the time as 7.30 AM. She could make up for those ten minutes she had spent more in her bed in the morning, she thought as she spotted someone’s eyes looking at her from the small crevice in the wall. She picked up her clothes and ran into her bedroom. Scared to death, and not knowing what to do, she moved a little further, then returned back and tightly bolted the bathroom door. She stood there for a while, frozen, the only organ that she was aware of, in her body, was the heart, beating fast, as if it was struggling to prance out of her body. 

She sat on her bed, trying hard to regain her composure. Someone had been in her room and also in her house in her absence. She had spent the entire Sunday with her friends, first shopping and then in the evening partying at a local pub. She had returned back late and was not in a position to observe if something was amiss in her apartment. She just came back, changed her clothes and went off to sleep. Her shopping bags were still lying on the table, beside her laptop; the window behind the table was still closed. Too scared to even move her legs, she took a look around. She couldn’t find anything that could explain that someone had been in her room. But she couldn’t be wrong a second time. Her heart was still beating fast, and the clock was showing 7.35 AM. She slowly and carefully got up.

Living alone in a big city like Delhi, has its own challenges and one of them is ensuring one’s security. Shweta made sure that she returned back home by 7.30 PM in the evening and even if she went out with her friends on weekends and was late, she was normally dropped back home by her friends. In the beginning it was intimidating living alone in an apartment and travelling for about an hour every day to reach her office in Noida, but gradually she got used to her life in Delhi. She made a phone call every morning and evening to her parents at home and would usually find office colleagues on the same metro to office. However, today’s experience was nerve wracking.

She finally saw Anshul coming towards her. She had Anshul had gone to the same engineering college and were both working in Delhi. They took the same metro to office in the morning and often spent the time chatting with each other. She took a deep breath and in one long monologue related the morning’s incident to Anshul.

“Shweta, are you sure you had not left the window open during the night? It is very unlikely that someone could have entered you apartment when it was locked,” asked Anshul.

“When I am out of the house, I never leave a window open and I remember very clearly that I had left my things on the table, and just got to bed yesterday. I did not open any window” replied Shweta.

“I still feel that you probably imagined things. I don’t think someone could be looking at you from the crevice. It’s not possible. Your apartment is on the fifth floor and you have a fairly good security  too” said Anshul.

“Anshul, I can’t tell you how scared I was. I am still getting goose bumps when I am talking to you” said Shweta.

“This is what I want to bring to your notice. It could have been a cat scare. When you get back home, ask the watch man if your window was open during the night. I guess Shweta, you should relax. This incident happened at 7.30 and you left the house at 8.15 and did not notice anyone after that. May be it was all your imagination” said Anshul.

Shweta was not convinced but talking to Anshul had comforted her.  Anshul got down two stations ahead of Shweta. After Anshul was gone, Shweta just closed her eyes and tried to relax. ‘May be it was all your imagination’, Anshul’s words were ringing in her ears.

She was trying to push her laptop bag on her shoulder and trying to balance herself with the help of her hand when she noticed those same eyes, she had seen in the morning, staring at her, from the other end of the compartment. She pushed a woman aside, took quick frantic steps, crying and shouting, jumped at the station and ran outside. She felt that the two horrifying eyes were following her. She quickly jumped into an auto and instructed the driver to drop her at her office, which was barely half a kilometre away. She did not have the courage to look back.

The office colleagues comprised mainly of male members and for some reason she did not feel like discussing the events that had happened since morning with any of her colleagues. She had felt safe in the office but was in a state of fear, as the thought of having to go back home in the evening came to her. What if she encountered those eyes, that scary glance again? Was she being stalked? She decided not to discuss the incident with anyone and go to Seema Aunty’s house, who was her mother’s cousin in the evening and spend the night there. She decided to take her aunt’s help instead of anyone else’s.

But she had decided to get some more means to enhance her security. When she had moved to Delhi, one of her friends had suggested that she carried a knife and a pepper spray in her purse for her safety. She had bought the pepper spray but had ignored the advice about a knife. She had to get one, she thought.

She was at this shop at the near-by market to buy a knife. Nothing significant had happened during the day. However, she felt that those two eyes were constantly following her in the office as well. She had made a phone call to her mother to tell her about the incident but could not speak about it. Her mother was always worried about her. She did not want to trouble her. She had decided to take her aunt’s help, who lived close to her office.

She decided to walk up to her Aunt’s house. That knife had given her some confidence. It was a pleasant evening. She loved the nip in the air; she could hear a hindi film song which was her favourite, coming from a loud speaker from somewhere. There was hustle and bustle in the market. The song, the weather and a fact that she was going to her aunt’s house soared her spirit.

The servant opened the door at aunt’s house. She offered to make a cup of tea for Shweta, while her aunt and her uncle returned back from office. Shweta was in the comfort of a home. She had refused the tea and decided instead to wait for Seema Aunty. She was sitting in Seema Aunty’s drawing room, sending messages to Anshul and her other friends. The servant was out in the garden watering the plants. Shweta was relaxed, though still a little perturbed about the events throughout the day.

It was as if by instinct she raised her head from the phone and looked back at the open window behind her, where she could spot those same eyes again. Shweta was frozen. Not a word came out of her mouth, when she saw him move inside the house from the window, slowly. He took the support of the wall to move ahead in the room while still staring at her. Shweta, gathered all the strength that she had, picked up a vase placed close to her and threw it at him. He had escaped, now he moved swiftly, getting closer to her. She got up and ran outside in the dining room, where she had kept her bag. By the time he reached the dining room Shweta had managed to bring the knife out. She held the knife and stood in front of her, trembling with fear, anger and certain madness. He was standing in front of her and took the support of the door. That glance in his eyes was the same; Shweta could not mistake it this time.

She moved ahead with the knife and hit him with it. She could see some blood on the knife. He galloped ahead and ran towards the stairs, taking the support of the railing, tried to run upwards. Shweta ran after him. They were at the first floor now in the lobby. Shweta had a knife, and was quick to realise that he was armless. In a fit of anger, Shweta attacked him, gave him a stroke, once twice, thrice. He did not utter a cry, but the expression in his eyes changed, it was now one of deep pain. His body was bleeding. He tried to move around but was in great pain. He kept on moving slowly on the floor, blood streaming out of his body, for about half an hour struggled for his life and then gave away.

Shweta had seen the lizard struggle for his life for about half an hour, soaked in blood, moving around, silently, yet in a lot of pain, agony. A struggle for life is just the same for any creature be it a small lizard or a human being. The lizard had been dead right in front of her eyes. She had left her aunt’s house after that and had come to the Starbuck’s café.

The events throughout the day were coming back to her like a film. She had a hatred for lizards since she was very young. She just hated them. There was no reason or logic. She could not bear a presence of a lizard in her house. She shrieked out at the very sight of a lizard.

Today she had killed one and had seen him struggle for his life. He had to bear the excruciating pain for about half an hour, trying to move for a rescue, while he could. For the first time in life she had realized that he was a harmless creature, perhaps, and quite vulnerable.  She wasn’t happy. There was as if a crevice created in her heart. She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf.

He was innocent, she was mad.

It isn’t right to be mad with hatred and kill a harmless creature. We often do it. Should we? Shweta could feel her heartbeat getting faster and her eyes welling up.

The Lady in White.

I had first seen her sitting on a bench at the park. She was dressed in white and had a royal air about her. The way she was sitting it reminded one of a kind of elegance that usually comes from aristocratic ways of life. Even from a distance it was not hard to observe that she was extremely beautiful. She was slightly built, delicate and had a peaches and cream complexion. She was sitting alone. It seemed that she was thinking, as if recollecting a happy memory, all to herself and with a faint smile on her face. She looked content and happy. Probably she arrived in the park earlier than me and had finished her walk by the time I had arrived. I walked past her; we exchanged a glance but not a greeting.

A morning walk for a twenty four year old boy can be really painful. Waking up in the morning itself is a pain. If I add up the discomfort of bumping into an acquaintance, who makes a casual enquiry about studies or job, which comes like a random arrow aimed to hit an already low self-esteem, causing a typical silent pain that is only known to a resident of an overpopulated country with limited opportunities, morning walk seems like a sojourn one should avoid at any cost. A morning walk to me is symbolic of a stage in life when either you are tired of trying to make a beginning in life or are retired and moving towards an end.

I went for a morning walk for a different reason though. I did not wish to encounter my father in the morning. A situation where a son has an average academic career, is forced to find a job opportunity in a bleak job market, often turns a father-son relationship into a vengeful mother-in-law, and a meek daughter-in-law relationship, where the mother-in-law is just waiting to throw a fiery, sarcastic jibe at the very sight of daughter-in-law; in such a situation remaining out of sight is one of the best options that one can have, and I precisely wished to exercise that. A walk early in the morning to a nearby park, picking up milk packets from a dairy in the neighborhood and reaching home at a time when my father was about to leave the house was my daily routine. I came home and pretended to read the newspaper till he left.

I saw her there, every day and got used to her smile, which was not for me, I knew. But it was there, nonetheless. She was a smiling angel, most of the time I saw her sitting and sometimes taking a walk. There are some mysteries that life can unfold in a unique manner. Her smile gave me warmth and rendered my lackluster daily routine, a purpose. I suddenly realized that the park was beautiful; the air fresh, and morning walk was a delightful experience. I looked forward to wake up early and reach the park when she was still walking. Gradually, her smiles widened and I could see dimples appearing on her cheeks, at recognizing a familiar face every morning. Initially, I walked behind her, at some instances I crossed her murmuring a ‘sorry’, more to get a chance to begin a conversation and less to apologize for a chance strike. A few days later we began to walk together. She walked slowly and I matched my steps with her. She was happy perhaps that she got a company and I was happy for no logical reason that my mind could think of. We did not talk much.

“I couldn’t see you in the park for the last few days”, I took quick steps to reach her as I spoke.

“I was not well. Down with fever. How have you been? She replied.

I couldn’t tell her that I missed her. The park, the morning breeze, the trees, the grass; nothing was the same without her.

A hiatus in the relationship makes fondness grow. After that short break that she had taken, I had realized that meeting her in the morning was perhaps the best thing to happen to me in an otherwise gloomy day. I was preparing for various competitive examinations. A lot of competition does not make you competitive, I had realized. What they had taught at my B school was rubbish. I was becoming less and less competitive with each failure. I spent most of the day at my study desk but knew in my heart that my performance was deteriorating in each exam that I was taking.

‘What do you do after you go home’, she had casually asked.

‘It’s been almost a year and half since I finished my MBA and I am looking for a job, trying to get through competitive exams but I know I never will’, I replied.

She looked up towards the sky. For a few minutes she was silent. Then she said, ‘I have everything that life can provide to anybody, but I do not have a job, almost nothing to do. It is not a very comfortable situation to be in. I try and keep myself busy, yet boredom never leaves me. Everyone else in the family is busy. I wish I could sit and prepare with you for some exam which gets one a job’. She laughed heartily. And I laughed with her.

She had certain gentleness about her. Whenever she made an enquiry about my studies, I did not feel bad to tell her that I did not feel like studying. She sometimes gave me a gentle firing, sometimes a pat on my shoulder, and sometimes just changed the uncomfortable topic.

I realized that I wanted to do something to be able to tell her that I had spent my day fruitfully. I loved to see an angelic smile on her face with deep dimples and her eyes shining up. For that smile I could do anything.

I had to go to another city for two days to write an exam. I had told her in the morning and she had wished me good luck. I could feel her smile all through my train journey. A genuine smile can be felt in the heart. I was lighthearted. There was no burden of anxiety or stress on me. The train was leaving behind the trees and I felt a strong desire to move on into the future. Dimples had changed everything.

I wanted to reach the park as fast as I could. I wanted to fly and reach there. She usually arrived in the car, and walked slowly inside the park. I was too keen to tell her that I had done the exam well. I thought she would say, she knew it, with a twinkle in her eye. I made up the conversation that we would have in my mind, many times. My eager eyes looked at the park gate again and again. She did not arrive. I was worried about her. I asked other people who were in the park every morning, if they knew why she had not come. I was told that she was not coming for two days. She arrived in the car. No one knew her house.

I had never asked her where she lived. I could not see her in the park after that. I continued my morning walks hoping that one day she would arrive. Meanwhile, I had to go again for my job interview, this time for a week.

Six months had passed. I had not met her.

I was not willing to lose hope.

I had developed a belief and had repeated it many times in my head that I would not get a job until I had met her. I hoped to meet her someday. I hoped to tell her that I had got a job. I hoped to share my happiness with her, a happiness which would come after so much of effort. I had written some more exams, had faced two more interview panels. I had a firm belief. The day I met her, I would get a job. Ten months had gone since I last met her.

It was raining that morning. I could not miss my walk at the park, so I took an umbrella and walked slowly towards the park. The rain had washed up the street and the trees. It seemed like a new morning, somewhat different from the rest. And it was. Her car had arrived in the park. I could recognize her driver and walked as quickly as I could towards him.

I was in the car with driver and we were going towards the hospital. What I could gather from what driver had told me, her condition over a period of last few months had deteriorated. There were multiple issues. She was severely ill and was in the ICU. She had wished to see me.

She was frail. Her eyes were closed. Her nostrils filled up with tubes and machines all around her, when I stepped into the ICU to see her. I felt that she a moved a little, as if to acknowledge my presence. The doctor said that I could not talk to her.

After coming out from the ICU, for a few minutes I could not understand what I had just watched. No ! She could not go away. My future depended on her. I would never be able to do anything if she had gone away. I went to a corner and cried my heart out. The hospital was full of her relatives. I could hear a mutter. ‘She was not responding’. I still refused to give up my hope. For ten months, I was going to the park, just to see her. Did she know about that? She did. She had wished to see me. She had to open her eyes and talk to me.

The doctor was walking up to the door to enter the ICU. I observed him carefully as he walked to the door. I knew that time was running out but suppressed the urge to check my watch. I took a deep breath and started counting in reverse under my breath. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, months, that I had waited to tell her that I was ready to move on in life.”

A long time must have passed. Prerit, who is Prerit? She is asking for him, the doctor came out and said.

I bowed down and tried to look into her eyes. I could see a twinkle there. The dimples were struggling to appear. She stretched out her hands towards me, I bowed down further, and she took my face in her hands and kissed my forehead. No other communication in the world could explain what we had at that point in time, as I looked into her eyes. We did not talk.

I woke up the next day and looked for the newspaper.  I was not going for a morning walk.

Obituary – “Our dearest Great Grand Mom, Grand Mom and Mom left for the heavenly abode yesterday. She had a fulfilling life and was 88 when she passed away. She would be deeply missed by the family members.”

I looked at her photograph again and again. A toothless smile is so angelic. This smile was going to remain with me forever.

That same afternoon, a courier guy brought my appointment letter. Life awaited me. Finite or infinite, I had to move on.