He sent flowers every day. Different colours, varied bouquets, a medley of scents. And with each, came an elegantly crafted note written in a graceful flowing letters ,on exquisite onionskin paper. The sun shone, the rains poured, a nip of winter cut her, but the flowers were always there. Her Spartan office was transformed. She wondered.
The perfect gentleman, from his neatly gelled hair to his polished shoes, he was a throwback to a more chivalrous age. She paused in her thoughts. What more could she want. Well read, handsome, intelligent, witty, and also the scion of a business empire. Her rebel soul scoffed her “ Wouldn’t they all be happy? Ma and Baba? Their twenty sixish daughter settling down.” Her honest soul wondered.
When she had first met him, at a legal meeting, his eyes had never strayed from her face. Her seniors droned on about the details of a mega merger, she said nothing. His eyes blazed patches of rose on her cheeks. He called soon, very soon, too soon. Asking her to join him for dinner, the theatre, the races, a walk, a drink, a coffee. She turned him down .Now she was running out of excuses.
Abruptly she turned to the smoked glass in her cabin. She saw a slim, attractive woman, with short dark hair, and a slightly forbidding look. She wondered once again “Why me?” Redundant question. She knew the answer. She was pretty, and she didn’t like it. Brains were her weapons, not beauty. But she had been cursed with both.
The insistent stupid tune on her mobile played on. She saw his name flashing. She almost didn’t answer, but her good manners won. A tentative ‘ Dixit.” She could sense his smile, the dimples curving into his skin. “Hello, Ms. Dixit, How are you ?’ She flinched ,such formality, and his flowers mocked her. “Fine. And you?” He chuckled , “As always I am calling to ask you to have a drink with me, or whatever else you want to do?’ Silence. In her chaotic mind, she searched for a new excuse. She heard his warm throaty voice laced with a smile ‘Are you thinking of a new excuse?” Momentarily taken aback, she fumbled for the right words. ‘No.’ Tentatively she stammered ‘Why don’t you come over to my place for a drink” The words were out, she had no control over them. He laughed ‘Our first date, and you call me home? Thank you. I will be at your place around seven. Is that fine” She mumbled “Yes”.
And that was the beginning of many a meeting. They talked, endlessly, he was a delight to be with. He amused her, taught her like a benevolent teacher, they heard music, saw old movies, ate greedily like two children, laughed, that’s all. She would never permit any intimacy ,and he was too much of a gentleman to ever push her. She realized she was falling in love. She hated herself for hating the thought. She carried on an endless debate with herself ‘I am a non judgmental person, so why” Her brain replied with echoes. She knew she had to decide some day. She procrastinated. “I am enjoying his company, let decisions be” How long could this season of sheer joy last?
Not very long. Her mother called. Yet another boy\man to meet. She argued “Ma, I am doing very well in my career. I have no interest in marriage” Her mothers resigned sigh “ But how can I rest until you are settled” She answered a bit more curtly than usual “ Ma, I earn more than Deep, he isn’t married, so why push me” The sigh again “ You are my daughter, that’s why” She terminated the call abruptly. She pondered.
And her mobile sang a silly tune again. It was him. “I want to meet you tonight. Its important. Can I take you out for dinner?” She drew a long breath. ‘Tonight I have to visit my parents. Another boy to see” She heard his deep intake of breath “Please meet me before you go anywhere, Its very important to me” She heard the love in his voice, and she knew that she felt it too. But she was a coward. She kicked herself mentally, but to no avail. “ Fine, come over early sevenish.” His profuse thanks made her cringe.
And now it was seven. She was all dressed up, saree, kajal, the works. He came in with a long bouquet of white tube roses, intermingled with three red roses. He wasted no time “I want to marry you. I love you. I have never loved anyone so very much. Please say yes” She stared a long time at him. Down at him. She smiled a sweet sad loving, but cruel smile ‘I am sorry. I cant marry you. Please leave. Thank you for the flowers, the music, the fun, but’ He smiled sadly “I understand. I will go. Thank you for every minute of joy I had ‘ He turned to leave, and looked at her ‘I thought you were different. I believed in you. I love you. Goodbye” He walked away. She stood transfixed .Soon she saw his four feet, four inches body disappear into the shadows of the night.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Friday, April 6, 2007
Summerwine.
Here I go.Another story!!
''She was angry ,confused, frustrated. The spate of murders was bizarre. And inexplicable. She paced up and down in the room, her brows knitted ,no answers. It was very strange. This wasn’t helping, she called for a van, her assistant she had to do something ,anything. The van, the man were both there within minutes. She got in ,took the wheel and drove to the city’s poshest area…the murders had taken place there. It was quiet ,green ,luxurious, sleek cars drove silently. A sprinkling of people were taking their evening walks, it was an oasis of rich peace. A very unlikely place for a murder.
She debated on her course of action, and she decided. She would visit the home of the latest victim, maybe she would get a clue. She rang the ornate bell, the door swung open , a young boy stood there. ‘Hello, are your parents at home /?’.He asked ‘Are you from the press?’ ‘No, the police. I would like to speak with them’ A man ,fat ,wearing kurta pajamas ,bloodshed eyes walked in ‘ We have nothing more to say. Our daughter is dead. You people have asked enough questions, taken our statements, what is left to add? Please go away’ She turned on her charm ‘I am Simran Singh, S.P, the case has been given to my dept. I just need some information. A few details. I will not disturb you Sir, its just that we are getting no clues. Seven girls murdered ,no weapons, no injuries ,no reasons. If you could help….’
She stopped abruptly ,the man was coming to her brandishing a pen. He reached her ,waved the pen ,and rather hurtfully marked two red dots on her neck ‘That’s all, nothing more, now for Gods sake go’ He almost slammed the door in her face. She left . Red marks. The report hadn’t mentioned that, or had she overlooked it?. She told the driver and her assistant to leave ,they quite happily did, she drove to a tiny café. Ordered a coffee, waited.
Simran remembered the red marks from a long time ago. From her childhood. Her father ,her uncle, the constant changes of towns and homes, schools. Her mothers frightened face, her fathers sullen one. Their arguments. ‘Why cant you accept the truth Kitty? We are like this. We cant change ever.’ Kitty ,her pretty ,petite mother crying softly ‘But I love you. We have a child, you must try, for her sake at least.’ A few extended periods of peace ,till her uncle turned up. Then the fights again. Uncle Sevvy saying ‘Come on Kitty, this is stupid. No one is forcing you. Let us be’ Kitty’s refusals, arguments ‘Its bad for the child. ’Sevvys’ cruel laugh ‘Don’t be stupid. Its in her blood, she is one of us. How long can you deny that’ Kitty’s refusal to accept, and then her untimely death. Yes, she remembered. Simran lived with her father for five more years, then he disappeared, and she went to live with her maternal grandparents. A nice ,normal ,comfortable life. She finished university and joined the police. Now she was a high ranking official.
She knew he would come ,he did. He sat down ,lit a cheroot, asked ‘Hi Simi. What do you think you are doing?’ She didn’t reply. She waited. He also stubbornly waited. His cheroot fogged the small café. Finally she asked ‘ What’s going on? I thought I would never see you again’ He waved his cheroot ‘What is the problem? I am your uncle, ….why are you angry?’ She smiled sarcastically ‘ My uncle ? You killed my mother, just get out. And what are you doing here/?’ He smiled ‘I never killed Kitty, you know that….’She lost her temper suddenly ,violently ‘Get out before I arrest you..’ She choked on the last words. He sneered ‘Arrest me? For what? I didn’t kill those girls..’
Simran left in a towering rage. She drove home ,she poured a glass of red wine for herself. She chain smoked ‘Liar, he killed all those innocents. I hate him. I hate them all.’ She sobbed ‘I hate myself too…’ Night shadows were falling, Simran had to go, she had to kill, she needed the drink…..the vampire left. And the vampire killed, it needed to quench its thirst. And the vampire would forget about it in the morning….Or rather it would remember ,but prefer forgetfulness….she hated the vampire , it was in her blood, her ancestry, she had to live with it, it was her…she killed the girls, and she chose to forget. It was better that way….
''She was angry ,confused, frustrated. The spate of murders was bizarre. And inexplicable. She paced up and down in the room, her brows knitted ,no answers. It was very strange. This wasn’t helping, she called for a van, her assistant she had to do something ,anything. The van, the man were both there within minutes. She got in ,took the wheel and drove to the city’s poshest area…the murders had taken place there. It was quiet ,green ,luxurious, sleek cars drove silently. A sprinkling of people were taking their evening walks, it was an oasis of rich peace. A very unlikely place for a murder.
She debated on her course of action, and she decided. She would visit the home of the latest victim, maybe she would get a clue. She rang the ornate bell, the door swung open , a young boy stood there. ‘Hello, are your parents at home /?’.He asked ‘Are you from the press?’ ‘No, the police. I would like to speak with them’ A man ,fat ,wearing kurta pajamas ,bloodshed eyes walked in ‘ We have nothing more to say. Our daughter is dead. You people have asked enough questions, taken our statements, what is left to add? Please go away’ She turned on her charm ‘I am Simran Singh, S.P, the case has been given to my dept. I just need some information. A few details. I will not disturb you Sir, its just that we are getting no clues. Seven girls murdered ,no weapons, no injuries ,no reasons. If you could help….’
She stopped abruptly ,the man was coming to her brandishing a pen. He reached her ,waved the pen ,and rather hurtfully marked two red dots on her neck ‘That’s all, nothing more, now for Gods sake go’ He almost slammed the door in her face. She left . Red marks. The report hadn’t mentioned that, or had she overlooked it?. She told the driver and her assistant to leave ,they quite happily did, she drove to a tiny café. Ordered a coffee, waited.
Simran remembered the red marks from a long time ago. From her childhood. Her father ,her uncle, the constant changes of towns and homes, schools. Her mothers frightened face, her fathers sullen one. Their arguments. ‘Why cant you accept the truth Kitty? We are like this. We cant change ever.’ Kitty ,her pretty ,petite mother crying softly ‘But I love you. We have a child, you must try, for her sake at least.’ A few extended periods of peace ,till her uncle turned up. Then the fights again. Uncle Sevvy saying ‘Come on Kitty, this is stupid. No one is forcing you. Let us be’ Kitty’s refusals, arguments ‘Its bad for the child. ’Sevvys’ cruel laugh ‘Don’t be stupid. Its in her blood, she is one of us. How long can you deny that’ Kitty’s refusal to accept, and then her untimely death. Yes, she remembered. Simran lived with her father for five more years, then he disappeared, and she went to live with her maternal grandparents. A nice ,normal ,comfortable life. She finished university and joined the police. Now she was a high ranking official.
She knew he would come ,he did. He sat down ,lit a cheroot, asked ‘Hi Simi. What do you think you are doing?’ She didn’t reply. She waited. He also stubbornly waited. His cheroot fogged the small café. Finally she asked ‘ What’s going on? I thought I would never see you again’ He waved his cheroot ‘What is the problem? I am your uncle, ….why are you angry?’ She smiled sarcastically ‘ My uncle ? You killed my mother, just get out. And what are you doing here/?’ He smiled ‘I never killed Kitty, you know that….’She lost her temper suddenly ,violently ‘Get out before I arrest you..’ She choked on the last words. He sneered ‘Arrest me? For what? I didn’t kill those girls..’
Simran left in a towering rage. She drove home ,she poured a glass of red wine for herself. She chain smoked ‘Liar, he killed all those innocents. I hate him. I hate them all.’ She sobbed ‘I hate myself too…’ Night shadows were falling, Simran had to go, she had to kill, she needed the drink…..the vampire left. And the vampire killed, it needed to quench its thirst. And the vampire would forget about it in the morning….Or rather it would remember ,but prefer forgetfulness….she hated the vampire , it was in her blood, her ancestry, she had to live with it, it was her…she killed the girls, and she chose to forget. It was better that way….
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