I write to you with a heart full of serenity, for the mere thought of you stills my otherwise bustling day. Countless clouds have gone past the sky since I last breathed in the aroma of your company. And what charming days were those spent walking beside you along the silent stream of spring.

I have missed you with each morning and every sunset and would do all in my power to see you again and to speak with you. Tomorrow, I shall send you my royal escort to cordially bring you to me. I sincerely wish that you would oblige to my humble request.

Yours,

Lucius Psellus”

Princess Celina finished reading the letter and gazed down the vast corn field spread across the horizon shimmering in the golden sunlight of the drowning sun. The evening wind blew across the field and rattled that piece of paper in her hands. A smiled lingered in her eyes and a song of joy and contentment started whistling on her lips.

She had met Prince Lucius a few months ago at one of the Gala of Spring in Provence . From the moment they laid eyes on each other they fell in love. Spring in Provence brings clear blue skies with spotless white clouds, a calmer ocean and a melodious air. Intoxicated in the beauty that surrounded them, the prince and the princess spent many a days and nights strolling along the silent shores; conversing about each other and falling in love ever so more deeply.

She felt the soft but firm touch of his hand on her hand as she glared down at the letter once again. She started smiling again. It was a beautiful evening. Tomorrow, when the sun loses its pinch, she will leave for Greece , the land of the Prince Lucius.

“ Nicaea Ducas,

I write to you with a heart full of distress. I believe somewhere in my heart I always knew that one day I shall write this letter to you. It has been three years since we had been together. You have been kind and amusing. But I guess my heart always desired for more; something that I have found in another man, an escapade of a life. By the time you read this letter, I would already have departed to Greece . I am going to follow my heart; I hope you find it in you to follow yours.

Thaleia”

The jester finished reading the letter and laid down an idle gaze on the dusty road that vanished into the hazy evening that was spreading across the horizon. There was an unwanted silence in the air; for once he wanted to hear a human voice, any voice, any words.

Nicaea met Thaleia during one of his performances in a town some 100 miles away; she was a theatre student and apparently had loved his performance. For the first time, he had strayed away from his regular comic acts and played a lone musician whose work is continuously stolen by his closest confidant. From the moment they met, they felt a spark, a strange energy between them. He could feel her presence on him physically whenever she was around; but he never physically felt her. With all the chemistry between them, there was always a hint of a distance between them.

The jester stared down at the letter in his hand; the silence had finally broken, in the distance he heard the sounds of horses’ hoofs getting closer and closer.

The prince had read the letter over and over again, reliving all the memories of her moments with the prince. The royal wagon was rolling up and down the countryside as the shadows started stretching themselves and the sun lost its battle against time.

As the cartwheels hit a ditch in the dusty road, the jerk caused the letter to slip from her hand and fly out the window. The princess ordered the escort to stop and stepped out of her wagon to look for the letter herself.

The jester saw a shadow lurking around in the haze; a wave of jasmine fragrance wavered along with the evening breeze. As the shadow got closer and came out of the haze, he saw the princess clad in a white and blue dress, hair tightly tied on her back, with a lost look on her face, approaching him. Before he could stand up, the princess had approached him and was staring at the letter in his hand.

“Excuse me sir, that letter would be mine and I would like to get it back” she said with a straight but firm tone.

“Pardon me my lady but I believe you are mistaken; this letter belongs to me” he said while standing up.

“How dare you claim such preposterous claim? I demand the letter be given to me. Guards!” her guards approached him and took the letter away from him and gave it to the princess.

As the princess started reading the letter she realized it didn’t belong to her; a soft smile appeared on the jester’s lips. The princess looked at him and gave his letter back to him, “Please accept my apologies”.

He smiled and looked at the princess’s worried face; he offered her to look for her letter, which she approved without paying much attention to it.

“A special letter/” he asked while searching for the letter in the haze of the departing evening.

“A matter that does not concern you” she replied with a stern tone.

He smiled again and kept looking for the letter.

After a while the letter was found but by that time the night had opened its wings; her royal council advised her to stay overnight just outside the town. Once the station was made for the princess, she occupied her seat beside the fireplace and started reading the dirt-ridden letter again. The jester, who was offered a meal in favour of his efforts to search for the letter, sat at the farthest corner and stared at the princess.

Her face glowed in the shimmering flames that rose from the burning pile of wood; a lock fell down on her shoulder and a faint smile rested on her lips. She felt his eyes constantly staring at him; she looked at him with lost eyes, and while thinking of something else, kept staring at him.

“I have seen you somewhere, from before” she finally said to him.

“I was the court jester” he said with a painful smile.

“Was?” she needed explanation.

“I wasn’t funny anymore” he said with a wide smile appearing on his face as he enjoyed the statement.

“Not a good trait for a jester” she said with a smirk of satire.

“Most definitely” he said.

“So what do you do now, except for sitting on a deserted road outside the town at the dying hours of the day?”

“I perform at theatres” he said with an unintentional pride in his voice.

“Are you any funny there?”

“Tragedies only” he said while the smile still accompanied his words.

“Interesting” she had nothing to do to kill time, so an interview seemed like a good thing to spend some time before she would retire to her tent, “The letter you were holding in your hand, is that a part of it?”

“The beginning and the end of it” he said.

“Why did she leave?” she realized she shouldn’t have asked that question but then waited for an answer.

He looked at her, smiled with a squint in his eyes and said, “I wasn’t funny anymore”

She smiled, “What’s your name?”

“ Nicaea Ducas”

“Strange name” she said.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be funny”, he replied.

She smiled again and then rose up to retired to her tent. He stood up as well.

“Goodnight Nicaea. You shouldn’t need to travel back to town at this hour, ask my staff and they shall arrange a place for you to sleep”

“Thank you your highness and good night to you” he said.

He could hardly sleep that night; the moon month had lost twenty of its days and could hardly light the night through the roaming clouds that travelled through the night. He didn’t want to think about Thaleia so he started thinking about the princess; and her letter. The night finally landed onto his eyes and he fell asleep.

Next morning he woke up with the sun and was about to head out toward the town when one of princess’s staff brought a message that the princess had sent for him. He was surprised that the princess was up this early.

As he received permission to enter the royal tent, he stepped inside. The princess sat in her chair, dressed in a serene shade of green.

“You send for me your highness” the jester stood at the door.

“Yes. I have a proposition for you” the princess said without looking at him.

“I am all ears your highness” he said.

“Accompany me to Greece” she looked him with a slight tilt of her head, a sine in her eyes, a smile on her lips and utmost confidence in her voice, “as my royal jester”.

He smiled a big smile and politely said, “I believe you have a very short memory your highness, I am not much of an entertainer”.

“I am not convinced of that yet” she said, “prove me wrong, prove me right, either way, I command you to travel with me and entertain me”.

“Your wish my command” he had a feeling there wasn’t much of a point to continue arguing over a decision already made.

As the journey began, the jester, in his head, started roaming through his old tricks and comic skits. All he remembered were scenes and dialogues from the classic tragedies he had been playing lately. The comic skits he used to perform as a jester, all seemed lame. Still, he tried.

The princess herself had some tricks up her sleeves; so it wasn’t as difficult as he had earlier imagined. She hardly ever laughed at his jokes; and whenever she laughed, he couldn’t tell whether it was on the quality of his joke or the lameness of it.

The journey to Greece lasted for nine days and during that time, the jester found a different person in princess than what he had imagined. For one, she worried a lot; were they travelling fast enough, had the horses had enough rest, was there enough food, was the cabin cleaned or not; she would obsess about everything. It was a relief for the jester; since half the time he didn’t have to try to be funny, he just had to listen and console and more importantly, agree.

“Why do you worry a lot?” he asked her one day while strolling along the hillside as the escort had stationed itself for the night.

“I don’t worry” she said firmly.

“Well, you obsess about things” he adjusted his statement.

“I care about things, there is a difference, you won’t understand” she said with a mischievous smile.

“Oh please, I can tell the difference between caring and obsessing” he said with a frank choice of words.

“So you are using this opportunity of travelling with me to pass judgement on me?” she asked with that tilt of head and a smile.

“No. But admit it, your ride wouldn’t have been fun with this boring escort of yours” he said, hoping to hear an agreement.

“Oh, so that’s what you think? I believe it’s the other way around” she said, “you were all lost, now at least you are going somewhere; learning things on the way”.

“I don’t think so. I am the one offering good company here” he said knowing that a retort was coming his way.

“Do you want me to leave you here? Because rest assured I will and will bid you the longest and slowest possible farewell while going uphill”.

“No you won’t. You can’t. I am the only interesting thing happening in your journey right now …”

“Blah blah blah …” the princess brisk walked away.

He smiled and walked after her.

Nine days had passed very quickly and they had reached at the palace of Prince Lucius Psellus . At the Gates, the jester got off the wagon to leave. The princess followed him out.

The jester stood in front of the princess and stared right into her eyes; a smile still on his face. The princess looked back with a hint of smile.

“It’s been a pleasure” the jester said.

“I know, I am a joy” the princess said.

He laughed, “You are”.

The jester leaned forward a little, still staring into her eyes. The princess realized what the jester was going to do.

Her smile fainted and a sober look appeared on her face. “Don’t look for another tragedy” she said in a tone which was nothing but a loud whisper.

The jester stopped; his smile vanished and then reappeared again. He took the princess’s hand in her hand and kissed her cylinder fingers. They exchanged a smile and the jester turned around and left.

As he walked down the road; he realized, he had long lost Thaleia’s letter.

As I approached the bridge, I saw a hazy shadow standing next to the railing, staring at the sounds of an invisible river below. There she was, wearing a dark blue jeans and a red shirt, resting her elbows on the cold steel bars, her eyes trying to steer through the mist that had left the world blank. I stopped a few yards from her and stood with my back to the railing looking across the bridge where a few loosely shaped shadows moved slowly.

I looked back at her again; her hair falling smoothly over her shoulders, her hands locked into each other, a slight squint in her eyes and an unintentional smile on her face fetched by some intoxicating thought in her head. I couldn’t stop myself.

“You can cause accidents like this” referring to her striking posture, I said out loud enough so she could hear me.

That sudden strike of an unexpected conversation, she came out of her thoughts and looked over her shoulder.

“You better stay out of my way then” a smile rolled over my face for it didn’t take her a fraction of a moment to reply. She saw me smiling and I could see a hint of smile appearing on her quivering lips. I took a couple of steps towards her, “So what are you looking at?”

“Nothing”, she said while still looking at the blank foggy screen in front of her. It was that moment when I thought it would be difficult to get her to talk; but I was wrong. She did speak; we conversed; about the fog, the bridge, the sounds of the river below, the city that was behind the misty blanket, the shadows across the bridge and those thick clouds that were not giving way to the morning sun. Before I knew it, the fog had lifted, from the bridge and from between us.

As the road opened and we started taking our way; I asked, “Tomorrow?”

“Same time”, she said.

“Awesome”, I was glad.

And there started a series of foggy mornings that fell on that bridge. It was a long bridge that ran over a slightly less silent river that swirled through the city. At times, some fishermen would pass under the bridge in their boat and we would go silent to listen to what they were talking about. And then, not being able to listen to them clearly, we will speak for them, pretending to start and finish their conversations. Once, while we were at it, the fishermen suddenly stopped talking; may be they were trying to figure out what we were saying.

She and I would stand next to each other now; so much that I could sense the moods, the changing tone and the reasons for sudden silence that would briefly fall between us. She was easy to talk to; no pretence, no inhibitions. Sarcasm was meant for fun and a taunt was equivalent to wit. Best conversations are those where you don’t have to adjust your sentences; with her it was like that. I would hit her shoulder with mine as a last reply each time I lost an argument; that was a victory in itself.

On a chilly foggy morning, her delicate smile and soft fragrance would add slight warmth to the air. Her hands would remain interlocked for most part of the conversation; except when she would adjust her hair. As the fog would start dispersing and the morning sun would send in the invisible rays of warmth, she would hold her hair in both her hands, roll them and tie them up above her neck. The soft skin on her shoulders and neck would look even softer in the pale mix of fog and sun. And every time, I would go silent for a few moments; to store that sight in my memory.

Once a ship had cruised into the docks on the farther curve of the river; being extra cautious in the fog, the captain would blow the noisy whistle every few seconds. Any obstruction to our conversation being unacceptable, I kept talking and yelling into her ear; and while doing so, my talking lips touched her ear and a quick sensation went through my spine. I let the captain blow the whistle for as long as he wanted.

Then one day, she had to leave.

It was no more as foggy as it used to be; sun would win the fight quite early and the bridge would be clear to cross over. I stopped standing beside the railing.

A few months later, somewhere close to the end of an eventless day, I happened to pass by that bridge again.

A tired sun was falling into the river as I stood silently on that mercilessly cold bridge. That golden sunlight spread through one corner of the concrete floor to the other tearing through some loosely shaped shadows. In the distant, on my right, the city had woken up for the night as many pieces of light started shimmering in thousands of skyline windows. A lamp-post at the far corner of the bridge slowly opened its eye and laid down its old, pale gaze on the road.

It was the same bridge where, every morning, sunlight would walk with me across to the city, but right now I was only treading alongside the drowning sun. Somewhere in the distance, there was a stereo running where Sting was playing “A Thousand Years” in sheer melancholic tone. It was a colder than usual evening, a shivering sun got tired of fighting those clumsy dusty clouds and was sluggishly falling down in defeat. I walked up to the bridge and before I could step on that piece of concrete, I heard a tender laughter. For a brief moment I thought it had started raining; I am sure if rainfall could ever take shape of a human laughter that’s how it would have sounded.

I looked around and there she was, talking to someone on her cell phone, holding her untied hair in one hand, the soft evening sun shining over her shoulder. In an instant a montage of a thousand rains ran through my head and a smile appeared on my face. She kept on talking in her rainy voice and I just stood there, with all the time in the world, watching her; the world around me had slowed down.

That pastel sunlight spread across her face as she turned around and looked at me while I stared at her with a casual intention. Wearing a pleasant shade of brown, a little uncomfortable due to my constant staring, she turned away and kept on talking; choosing all the right words and pronouncing them with an impeccable accent. ‘She should read poetry’, I thought while standing there, still staring at her.

She finished her call and turned around with that insanely maddening smile on her face. I lifted my foot to take the first step towards her when I realized; there was no fog, there was no morning sun waiting to wake up, there were no dark clouds hanging over. The whole setting was wrong.

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say.

It was a rotten phone call.

In utter confusion and helplessness of unexplained gestures; I asked her, “don’t you trust me?” And that’s when silence struck like a thunderbolt; the line dropped and all I could hear was a melancholic tone ___ just like the one you hear in an ICU when someone dies. Something died between us.

It was a forgotten phone call.

I sailed through empty days in sheer absence of time. Days started wearing months. That melancholy was still there each time I picked up the phone to dial her number. That constant tone and saddening fear stopped my fingers from pressing the buttons.

Then one day, the phone rang, she called me up after all those years and said,

“I don’t know.”

After having lumbered through the streets while the night fell softly from the sky, he rested on a rude patch of the sidewalk. An aged lamppost glared at him with its quivering pale light; adding extra melancholy to his already burdened day. Words had run out; and whatever voice was left to his thoughts came out bitter and wild.

A meaningful relationship should be able to maintain itself; he always thought, and as time crawled on his wrist, this idea sunk in so much that he let it all happen on its free will. His lack of effort in maintaining all the human links in his life led to many rotten moments create pages of unsettled conversations.

As he sat there drenched in broken pieces of light, he noticed a crack on the concrete, a small and otherwise unnoticeable split line that started from this end of the road stretching across to the other end. That road was actually split into two. As his eyes followed the crack, his mind wandered into comparisons; every road that took him to another human was fractured with a subtle crack, invisible to a roaming eye, caused by some words polluted with anger or disapproval.

The lamppost, all of a sudden, fell asleep and its grim light was replaced by rays wrapped in haze and some left over pieces of night. It was time.

He walked into his house to get ready for work; his younger brother came out of the shower and ran across him outside his room. The dirt from a stormy argument long ago was still floating between them. His brother looked at him, said an automated hello and started walking towards his room. He walked after him and knocked at the door.

“Hey brother, what’s happening?”

“Nothing much, the usual.”

“Ahan …. So I hear you are buying a motorbike?”

“Yeah, planning.”

“What’s there to plan, just go and buy it.”

“I am still short on some money.”

“How much?”

“Why? … Are you trying to buy something here?”

“No, I am not trying to buy anything here, just trying to help.”

“You could’ve done that long time back.”

“I know … But I didn’t. … And I don’t want to feel the same about this; this is now and I want to help.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my brother.”

“I always was; and I always will be. Then why now?”

“I am trying to understand now.”

He had never learnt to value having a brother, it was a default relationship; he never thought he would have to put in an effort to keep it.

“You don’t have to buy me anything to understand.” His brother walked towards him and hugged him, “you are my brother.”

He wrapped his arms around him and for the first time, hugged him. Something fell off his shoulders, off his mind; he felt a hint of lightness on his soul. A smile crawled onto his face.

As he walked away to get out of the room, his brother said with a mischievous smile, “But I wouldn’t mind a cheque for thirty thousand you know.”

He turned back with a smile, “You son of a …” He signed him a cheque and walked out.

He always avoided running across his manager unless it was utmost imperative. That morning, as soon as he reached his office, he knocked at his manager’s office.

“So you want to argue a little more over that report?” his manager naturally couldn’t get over his blunt disapproval of the last exhibition report.

“No, I just … wanted to say good morning.”

“And you are not going to say anything about that report?”

“No, I will. I still think the report is insufficient and lacks objectivity.”

“Look, my not having the authority to transfer or even fire you does not mean that you supersede me or directly defy my actions; I am your manager.”

“I know. I am not trying to do any of that; however, my stance on that report still is the same. But I think it would be unfair of me to question the report without offering an alternative, so I am going to submit in my report and it will then be up to you to decide which one is accurate.”

“Makes sense. I think it’s a good idea. Someone woke up on the right side of the bed this morning.”

“I didn’t wake up at all. I’ll send in my report tomorrow.”

“Great. And … good morning.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Walking out of his manager’s office had never been that pleasant. He felt another pebble of a load on his feet as he was walking out of the office. He walked towards the cubicles and reached his assistant’s desk.

“Hey, I know it was last week but good work on the exhibition, you did well; I appreciate all that.” The pebble fell off.

He entered his room and fell on the chair, throwing his glasses onto the table; a thought spun around his heavy head as he stared at his glasses. He rushed out of his office.

He entered his grandfather’s room as he sat there in his comfort chair bedside the window trying to read the newspaper.

“Hi grandpa.”

“Hey son. Hi. … Aaa … You are here … No office today?”

“I just took a day off … So what’s the news today?”

“Nothing special … same old same old, everyday.”

“Yeah. Hey you had an appointment with the doctor for your eyesight, right?”

“Yeah it was. But never mind; I didn’t have time, and I can read better all right.”

“I think … lets go to a doc, lets get your eyesight checked. What do you say?”

“You mean … you? … You have time?”

“Oh yeah … plenty of it. You want to get ready?”

“Oh no, I am all ready, we can go now.”

Even he didn’t know how long it had been since he spent more than five minutes with the old man, not that he ever complained or anything but there still was plenty of space but no time spent between them.

After the doctor’s, they went to grab an early lunch at a fancy restaurant. The old man, trying to seize the moment, fetched out every interesting glint of an event from his life and spread it on the table between them. The old man made him laugh; he took him along to his days.

“You better save some stories for tonight, grandpa” he said while dropping him off back home.

The old man smiled and walked in with a healthier walk than the usual.

As he was taking his car out, he saw his mother sitting in the lawn, clipping the dead leaves off the plants. He saw a small but completely black cloud hanging over her head preventing a part of sunshine from entering her eyes. There was one word still between him and her that added an unseen unspoken distance everyday.

He stepped out of the car and walked towards her.

“Hi mom.”

“My son” she said with a life sized smile in her eyes and kissed him on his cheeks.

“The plants seem fine mom” he said with a playful smile on his face.

“You can’t always tell from the surface my dear”

“You are right. We can’t. … Mom?”

“Yes my son”

“I said no because of reasons you know”

“We all have our reasons”

“Yes, but I never told you mine, I just said no.”

“We have our ways too”

“Yeah. … I said no because it was too sudden and there were so many things unknown. The girl you chose for me must be great, but I don’t know her. I couldn’t give you an answer right there right then, but they wanted an answer, and the only answer appropriate for something so strange, so nameless, was no. I didn’t say no to you, or your choice or your intentions; I said no to something I didn’t feel comfortable with, I said no to the urgency, to the lack of time and understanding. I didn’t even say no to her, but to the way it was all being done. Just … give me time. If there is anyone I would let make decision for me, it would be no one but you; but include me, let there be time to find out, to know, to like, to decide.”

His mother kept staring at him with a smile and shine of tears in her eyes, “my son has grown up” she hugged him and kissed him.

“I love you mom”

“I know son.”

As he walked towards his car, he looked back at her; the cloud was gone, there was sunshine smiling on her.

He parked his car and walked into his favorite coffee shop; he visited it everyday but two days back when he walked out of there he had promised himself never to come back.

He occupied his usual seat near the window and the mini waterfall and waited to be attended. A minute later a waiter approached him and asked what he would like to have. He looked at him with surprise; it was the first time when someone other than her would wait on him.

“Just give me a minute” he let the waiter go and walked towards the counter behind which she stood serving. He grabbed a stool and sat on it. He knew she had seen him but he was yet to be attended. After there was no customer left unnerved, she had to turn to him.

“What would you like to have sir?”

“And till a couple of days ago, I used to have a name.”

“I am sure you still do. What would you like to have?”

“A bit of attention.”

“You had it, more than your share.”

“I know. And I didn’t appreciate it; I wasn’t thoughtful. Something else determined my words that I spoke to you. What you do is noble; something I don’t have to courage to do; I can’t serve. You do. And I like you for that, I respect you for that.”

“Words come easy to you don’t they?”

“I wish they did, I wish they did … All right, here is the deal, come out of the bar, please.”

He requested her to come out and to sit on the stool where he sat. He walked in behind the counter, wrapped an apron around his waist and served her coffee. Her beautiful smile finally came back.

He sat in his car in the parking lot and dialed a number.

“Hey, its me”

Silence held its breath for a while and then finally a girl’s voice came from the other end of the phone, “hey”

“How are you?”

“I am good. You? … Why?”

“I don’t know. Its been two years.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought … Why did you do that?”

“What could I do? I couldn’t just let you go.”

“But I was still there, as a friend.”

“You think that was enough?”

“You think this was enough?”

“No.”

“I couldn’t find it in me to forgive you, you know that.”

“I know. That’s why I couldn’t call”

“At least you could’ve tried”

“I have now”

“What do you want now? Is it that easy?”

“No its not. I am not looking for an answer now. Whenever.”

“I don’t think we can be friends any more; I am married now.”

“Yeah, I know”

“ … but I am glad that you called”

“Yeah … I am glad I called too”

He hung up to a stale memory that was just stirred by a harsh moment in today. He sat there silently, rerunning the gone by days in his mind when another face with an old but familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. He switched on the engine, put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

His father’s personal assistant greeted him with surprise.

“Is he in there?”

“Yes he is, you can walk in. Its good to see you”

“Good to see you too”

He knocked softly and opened the door. His father sat in his office filtering through a pile of papers in front of him. He looked at him with surprise, affection, pain, remorse and joy in his eyes; his son had stepped in his office after years.

“Hey dad”

“Hey son. You surprised me”

“I am glad I did. How are you?”

“I am good. How is your day?”

“Not bad. Took a day off.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Coffee?”

“Nah, I am ok. Just came to say hello.”

“Great.”

“I’ll be leaving now.”

“All right”

He turned on his feet and opened the door to walk out when he heard his father’s old voice after a long time.

“Son!”

He turned around to see him.

“I am trying to be a good father.”

He looked at him, his hair all gone grey, his face gone soft and his eyes gone tired.

“You are a good father” he said with appreciation of a lifetime and walked out.

As he approached the main exit, he heard the personal assistant shouting in surprise, “you are taking a day off sir?’

He smiled and kept the door open as he walked out.

The evening was slipping through the barricade of the day; the sun was admitting defeat.

He parked his car and walked towards the city office blocks. It was just after six.

She walked out of the office building and saw him standing across the road; she turned left and started walking towards her car. He walked after her and reached her after a few steps. She stopped.

“Hi”

“Aah, so you can speak.”

“Yes I can.”

“Good to know” she started walking again.

“Please, wait, can we talk?”

“Of course, this is what we always did, except for the last few days when of course you couldn’t take all that talking anymore”

“Its not like that”

“Yeah? Then how is it?”

“I didn’t go silent because of you”

“Well that fixes it, doesn’t it?”

“I just didn’t expect it, I wasn’t prepared”

“How difficult was it, this was such a regular thing”

“I know, but with you everything is special, I don’t think of anything as regular”

“Then why did you do it? Why did you shut me out?”

“That was not the intention. But I did it because I was tired”

“Of what?”

“Of telling myself everyday, every time I would speak to you or see you that we are just friends, I have to tell myself all this, and keep it all there. It doesn’t come naturally; I have to deliberately do it. That day, for some reasons, I couldn’t. And I thought it would be fair to put in a little space for a while, to bring things back to what they were.”

“Things never changed in the first place.”

“I know. But it was … This is ridiculous; this shouldn’t be happening. I mean how many times do you want to undo things, to go back in time and erase it all, to find the pages where its all written and tear off that page, to go back to those moments and not relive them. But it doesn’t happen like that. This is how things are; this is how human beings live in a relationship, no matter what that relationship is; they make mistakes, they say things they don’t want to say or they don’t say things they should. A few moments, a few words, a few deeds do not make what we are; its how we meant it all that makes us. I didn’t mean it the way it was all delivered.”

“You think I’ll buy that?”

“I am not selling it to you. I am just telling.”

She went silent for a while as they stood on the side walk. Evening had opened the first door of the night. A lamppost woke up and coughed its pale light onto the concrete.

“What if it happens again?”

“I’ll bring more words to explain”

“But you’ll still do it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant”

“I know”

Tired and perplexed, she sat down on the footpath; he sat next to her.

She looked at him, in his eyes to find any grain of truth, and said, “Ok”

He took a deep breath and stared back at the road trying to find a crack. There were countless cracks on the road but he didn’t focus on them anymore. There was no burden of unspoken words on his days.

Silence froze between them for a while as they sat next to each other, caressing their shoulders; and then he said to her, “I can fly.”

A knock at the window. A 14 year old handicapped child’s face peeped through the stainless glass. “Oh, these beggars.”

“Newspaper Sir !”, holding a bunch of newspapers in his hands and crutches under his arms, he stood there and glared in hope.

The signal turned green. The car woke up and rushed forward. His hand hit the car and a few papers went flying in the air. The car didn’t look back. He picked up the papers with an honest smile on his lips, adjusted his crutches and started waiting again _____ for the signal to turn red.

(Based on a true event.)

“I am not going to shake hands with you”, she said firmly.
“But why not? I want you to.”
“Don’t ask me for something I cant do.”
“Yes you can.”
“No, I cant.”
“Well, try.”
“No.”
“But I want you to.”, I said even more firmly.

She looked at me with water wavering in her eyes. I looked at her and saw my wet reflection there. I put my hand out towards her. She looked and my hand, looked down and then put her hand forward.

I shook her hand, “Ok, take care, goodbye.”

After so many days, she had finally seen him again. But now what? “Shall I go to him?”.
“No !”, she kept quarreling herself, “why doesn’t he?”

“May be he doesn’t want to talk”, she stood up and started walking away. She thought her steps were resounding, but there was that sound of other footsteps following her.

“Naima!”

She heard her ears listening to her name. She turned back an looked at him standing there. “Lets go home.”

“Every animal, big or small, strong or weak, will respect and obey you as a king.”

“Even elephants?” he asked with surprise struck eyes.

“Yes, even elephants and rhinoceros, all of them. Every animal living in the jungle”, his mother told him.

The young cub got up, put his nose through the cage bars and staring at the zoo walls, he asked in wonderment, “Mom ! What’s a jungle?”

(Based on a Joke)

He was her best friend and was in love with her. She knew it but always left his words hung up in the air. She fell in love with another guy and was dumped. He stood their comforting her pain. She fell for another guy but he already loved someone else. He remained there holding her hand.

He finally gathered enough courage to propose her but in her reply she looked at another guy. Third time around she got lucky and married the guy.

She got divorced a couple of months back he had heard. Today, while sitting in his office, he hears a knock at the door.
“Yes”, he says.

The door opens and he sees her standing in the door. He stands up, walks towards her and shuts the door.

At sunset, while he had finished his job, he walked down one of the streets and looked back. Those electrical suns were blazing mercilessly. He walked towards his home.

He entered his house and hadn’t yet even taken off his shoes when a request was thrown at him. “Dad! The light is out since morning and the candles have run out. Could you please bring some candles, I have to prepare for my exam tomorrow.”, he heard his eight year old daughter saying.