Continued From…

“Since that fateful evening, we started re-joining the threads that had been dangling loose.” He suddenly stopped, “Am I boring you, kid?”

Hemanta was living every word of his mentor; boredom was a far-fetched word, so he replied irritatingly, “Can you stop being modest and continue, please?”

“Ha ha ha!” he laughed out, “You are the first and last soul to know my part of the story. Can I take a sip?” taking a long sip, and after giving a deliberate break, he restarted, “The 1^st lady to whom I expressed my love left me for her good, and on one otherwise dull evening, I proposed my love to her.”

“Excuse me? Who is the ‘her’ here?” cried Hemanta, “Can you please use names. You are confusing me.”

“Hemanta, henceforth, every ‘her’ in my story is only Ankita. So, on that evening, I expressed my love for Ankita. Do you know what she did? She cried! She cried like a baby and asked, “Couldn’t you tell before? She said that she had waited for me for years and can’t accept my proposal anymore. She kept crying, and I kept on saying how much she had meant and still means to me,” Concluding in one breath, he paused to lit up his fag.

There was a drop-dead silence. Aniket broke it and continued, “13 years have passed since that evening, there have been Orkut, and there had been GTalks, which got renamed as Hangout, then there came Facebook, and now there’s Whatsapp. Just like the virtual media communications have sustained in spite of different phases of technological updates, so has our relationship. We have seen more moments together than you kids see sitting beside each other.”

By now, Hemanta was smiling, and it didn’t miss Aniket’s eyes. He too grinned and added, “I am 51, and the social media has been a better friend of mine than it has been yours. It has given us all the pleasure and pains that you can fathom of.”

Both the young and the old man blushed, but Aniket knew he had to speak today. If someone could pass on his message to Ankita, then it was Hemanta; if someone could tell Ankita how desperately he needed her, it was this young chap. So, he continued, “You know Hemanta, that day when Ankita rejected my proposal, I was shattered. I was betrayed in love for the second time. Starting from the moment I knew her, I had felt a bonding between us, but to date, I don’t know why she did not accept my proposal.”

His weak voice, sang through the ticking of a nearby wall clock, “Just a few days back, she said that she had some feelings for me. I was blatant enough to tell her that I knew it. After all, it was evident from her behaviour towards me. However, I was confused!”

“Confused?” after a long time, the listener interjected, “…. about what?”  

Aniket stared at Hemanta with astonishment, who was under the charm of a lady’s enigma. Slowly he continued, “Hemanta, the day I had laid open my heart to her, she rejected, reason still unknown, the day I organized an event in Kolkata just to meet her, she didn’t turn up, and then suddenly after so many years she expresses her feelings to me. Is it she speaking or her despair? Does she know anything about me and my life?”

It was the kid’s turn to call for the waiter, “Please get me something to eat.”

“Don’t be an escapist like her,” smiled Aniket.

Hemanta plunged his head in the menu card, and after a few moments of deliberate searching, ordered, “A club sandwich and cappuccino.” Then as if forcefully diverting his attention to his speaker, he asked, “What do you think?”

Waiting for a response for a few seconds (which seemed like an eternity), he asked, “Do You love her, dada? Please call her back.”

Getting up from his chair, Aniket slowly muttered, “It’s too late! It’s all over.”

He took out the purse from his pocket, kept it on the table, and giving a pat on his young fellow’s shoulder left the coffee shop to vanish into the office-to home-returning crowd.

***************

Ankita had reached her hotel room a few hours back; she was done with all the melodrama. She was a calm, composed lady back to herself when she drew the chair near the window to look at the sky. “Evenings in Bangalore set in very late, if only it were the same in Kolkata, I could have spent a few more hours of childhood with him,” she smiled at herself.

The last few years danced impromptu in front of her eyes, curtain after curtain, and it finally stopped on today’s morning. The sun was setting, and the sky looked perfectly handcrafted, she looked up and sighed, “Today was the last day, I spoke to him.”

***************

Somewhere far in the other end of Bangalore, a tired soul reciprocated her thoughts, and sighed, “She will never meet me again. The crudeness of my character shows on my face.”

***************

Distance has not parted them, logic has not, rejections have brought them closure, would one meet bring an end to their saga?

The post Harness the Boundless Love? appeared first on KolkataFusion.

Continued From…

“Nopes! You know I don’t carry fags. But, let’s go downstairs and get a packet,” said Aniket after some time.

Slowly the two men walked downstairs – one who has seen a lot in life and the other who assumed to have seen a lot.

Once they settled down in the coffee shop on the ground floor, Aniket asked, “shoot kiddo… I can see a question mark in your eyes.”

Hemanta had been awaiting this moment so badly that without waiting, he asked, “Who is she? She is not one of those smarty lady companions of yours I know of. Who is she?”

Looking away from him, Aniket called for the waiter, “2 Americanos, please.”

“So, you were asking who she was…Where you there when she was on the podium?” probed Aniket with his eyes lying on the roads.

The latter nodded in acknowledgment and said, “I was standing right near the podium, listening to her melodious voice moving up and down with each note. But where were you?”

“Where was I that’s unimportant, Hemanta.” A voice spoke from a distance from the man who seemed to be entangled between the past and the present, yet he managed to continue, “Did you listen to every word that she spoke?”

Not waiting for any response from the listener, he continued, “The friend that she spoke of was me, Hemanta.”

“It was you? So, do you know her for the last 12 years?” Hemanta questioned in a spell.

Aniket closed his eyes, took a sip from his cup which had arrived by then, and after soaking in the smell of coffee for few seconds, he enquired, “My dear, are you in the mood for a story?”

On any other day, Hemanta would have denied, but today was another day; he nodded in acknowledgment.

Being aware of his partner’s response, Aniket relaxed on the comfortable chair, before starting with half-closed eyes, “No, not 12 years. I know her since she and I were in school. I know her since she was in Class III, and I was in Class IX. Did you see those well-combed hairs? I know her when those locks were as untamed as her shyness. Did you see that perfectly done make-up? I know her since she had thick-rimmed glasses, and she smelled of sweat and butter.” 

Taking another sip from his cup, he continued, “Did you see that perfectly plated blue saree; I know her since she used to go to school in a navy-blue skirt. I started knowing her even before she knew herself.”

With each word that Aniket spoke, Hemanta’s eyes seemed to widen with surprise, and his jaws dropped.

“Don’t look so surprised, chap. Take a sip from your cup. It’s getting cold.” Aniket reminded.

Mechanically, Hemanta took a sip from his Iveco Fame glass coffee mug, and asked, “So.. What happened afterwards?”

“After my +2 exam, we shifted to Bangalore. Ankita was in her 6^th standard when I last saw her. Yes, I remember going to Kolkata a few years back, but she didn’t turn up.” Drawing a long pause, he called for the waiter again, “Can I please have another cup of Americano?”

Looking at Hemanta, he asked, “Do you want anything?”

An enraptured Hemanta retorted, “Nothing, except what happened next.”

“You kids of today’s generation are always in a hurry.” Aniket thanked the waiter and looked back at him and asked, “What happened when?”

With unhidden curiosity, he asked, “What happened after Class XII?”

Reclining back on his chair, he restarted, “Yes! We had been in constant contact throughout those years of our adolescence. Yes! We didn’t have emails, but we obviously had letters. And then I used to visit my grandparents during every vacation. Will you trust me if I say…?” Again, he took a pause and looked straight into the eyes of his listener, and continued, “With every passing year, she bloomed like those beautiful nayantara flowers of mine.”

The waiter came back with the cup of coffee, Aniket tore open a sachet of brown sugar, minutely mixed it with his coffee, and continued, “Let’s fast forward the story. She was pursuing her graduation from Delhi and I had joined my first job when we got mobile phones. We used to chat often, and you need to know here – during those days, I fell in love.”

Reading his expressions, he said, “Control your emotions, kid. She wasn’t the lady whom you offered a drag this evening. She was someone I met through a common friend; she was my age, intelligent, beautiful and perfect creation of God. She changed my perspective towards life, and I was madly in love with her, I forgot everything else and everyone else, including Ankita.”

For the first time, Aniket uttered her name. The sun was in the mid of the sky, and from the glass panes, they could see that the guests had started dispersing; they both knew the call-of-duty, but none could move.

After a few seconds, Aniket resumed, “It was 2005, and I was in Kolkata when I got a random call from a lady, she inquired about my well-being and asked if I could recognize her voice. Ten years later, I heard Ankita’s voice, and it still seemed as fresh as yesterday. We spoke about hundreds of things under the sun and bade goodbye to each other. But, deep in my heart, I knew it wasn’t a goodbye, in fact, a new dawn.”

Continued…

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Continued From…

“Hey! Thank you. But, I….” Ankita faltered, “I don’t need it.”

His smile was infectious, and thrusting the pack in her hand, he said, “Feel at home. I will get your tea in a jiffy.” He left.

Like the hundred other ladies, enchanted by his presence, she took the pack and lit a cig. She hadn’t even taken her second drag, when he reappeared with two cups of tea, and beaming, he said “This is for the enchanting lady, and this is obviously for the poor me who couldn’t focus on anything else from the moment he laid his eyes on her.”

Ankita was not used to such praises and specifically from men as young and handsome as the one standing in front of him. There was something in the air, was it the intensity of the discussion going on the stage, or the fresh smell of the tea, or the nostalgic smell of the Madagascar Periwinkle, she didn’t know. But she shamelessly fixed her gaze on the man in front of her.

For Hemanta, it was a known look, but for the first time in his adulthood, he felt attracted to a simple yet alluring lady. He could have kept staring at her if the mild cough wouldn’t have broken the spell between them.

“Are you leaving, Madam?” intruded a gruff voice.

Awoken from a spell, they both looked at the source of the voice. And Ankita’s expression changed. Did Hemanta see tears in her eyes? Or was he hallucinating? Or did he see the spark that he was expecting?

“Excuse me! Am asking, are you leaving early?” The gruff voice continued, “I thought after the breath-taking speech, you will wait till the end.”

She mumbled, “I better thought to leave.”

“Without thanking the organizers or meeting any one of them,” spattered the gruff voice.

Something changed in Ankita, she clogged and with the immense power that she felt within her, she could have choked the man standing in front of her to death. The eyes which were mellowed with shyness and expectation throughout the morning were suddenly ablaze, and she scorned, “My friend is there, and after all, she was the main speaker of the day. I was just accompanying her. By the by, who are you?”

Extending his hands towards her, he nonchalantly continued, “Hi! I am Aniket.”

As if some script was being played in front of the eyes of Hemanta. His eyes travelled from the man to the lady and he searched for any trace of familiarity which was so evidently missing in their words yet was lurking in their looks.

Ankita slowly took his hands, and it might have been ages, before which Hemanta disturbed the awkward silence, “Dada! Why is it always like this?”

Aniket lovingly looked at Hemanta and asked, “What, Hemanta?”

“Why do ladies give you this passionate look even at this age, when I so crave for it?” he laughed.

Suddenly Ankita took back her hand with a jolt and murmured something. But, immediately regaining herself, she continued, “Can you please excuse us, Mr. Aniket? We were in the middle of a discussion before you interrupted.”

Aniket was caught off-guard, and after all the incidents that have been taking today, he was in no mood of foul play. So, turning towards Hemanta, he softly uttered, “Can you please excuse us, Hemanta?”

“No! Why will he?” Ankita defended raising her voice this time.

“If you so like his company, you can meet him for tea anywhere and anytime afterward. But, today, I am the primary host, and I need to speak on something urgent,” Aniket replied, calm and composed.

“Unlike you, I don’t go about meeting anyone I come across,” holding back her tears, Ankita continued, “…you have a fascination towards tea/coffee-meets and get swayed by any artistic or intelligent or beautiful lady your path crosses by.”

Like an actress, she regained her composure and smiled, “I think I am done here…should have known the tea stall near the exit was nothing but a trap.”

Uttering her last few words, she stomped off, and the sole audience to the play, Hemanta, stood, stoically looking at the two revered actors.

How long they stood there, they don’t know. Together they watched the lady climbing downstairs, boarding a cherry-red Octavia and zooming out in front of their eyes.

Hemanta would have stood there, still trying to comprehend the scene that took place right in front of his eyes, but to break the uncomfortable silence, he asked, “Dada! Do you have a fag? She took mine!” 

Continued…

The post The Rendezvous appeared first on KolkataFusion.

She was dressed in a simple sky-blue saree with mauve border, with her hair tied in a perfect top bun. She drew her eyes with caution and made sure to wear the matching coral lipstick. Although an extra effort was taken to cover up every wrinkle on her face, yet she was meticulous enough not to overdo. The miniature diamond jewellery glittered as she thought to herself, “My introvert nature has been a hindrance in my life, but not today – finally after two decades.”

Looking at herself in the mirror for the last time before leaving, the lady of our story Ankita heaved a sigh, got up, and made the call to Tisha. 

****************

At the other end of the city, Aniket was preparing himself for the big event that he was organizing with his fellow bloggers. He was one of the founders of the group, ‘Blogcentrics’ and today it has grown to be one of the most renowned Bengali bloggers’ association in Bangalore.

He had no time to take his breakfast or sip a cup of coffee – he had a lot to do before the guests started arriving. They had also set up a podium to introduce new bloggers, discuss the various facets of blogging and pay tribute to the veterans for their indomitable support.

“So much to do in such a little time. These office fellows in Bangalore do not understand the value of a writer, these coders!” he kept murmuring while rechecking the nitty-gritties of the forthcoming event.

Those who knew him were used to the nature of this 50+ old man whose entire life revolved around the association, its bloggers, and its posts. And though each was ready to go out of the way to make things easier for him, none could approach him. His meticulous nature was a terror for all, except the smart looking, chiseled face, and shoulder-length haired, Hemanta.

He has been seeing him in this dishevelled condition since last night and it had started taking a toll on his mood. So, he walked up to his mentor and demanded, “Have you looked at yourself? You look like an old man….”

“Hemanta, don’t disturb me!” he scoffed.

But he knew this young chap’s determination, so smiling to himself, he turned his back towards him.

“Who’s coming today? Have you invited someone special? Since the time I have joined your ‘team,’ I have seen you organizing more than two events a week, you never fret out so much,” continued the adamant kid. With each word he spoke, his brown eyes glittered with mischief.

Like a one had struck by lightning, Aniket stopped, and looked at his watch and then at his attire.

“Anish,” he called for the housekeeping guy, “get me a cup of Expresso and the kurta from my bag.”

“Come chap, let’s enjoy the weather,” smiling towards his companion he continued, “after all, that’s the best part of Bangalore!”

****************

Bangalore traffic sucks. Travelling from Yellahanka New Town to Babusaplya seems like a lifetime journey. If Tisha hadn’t been with her, Ankita would have unquestionably jumped off her car at the first signal itself.

“What’s wrong with you?” scolded Tisha after waiting for her friend to break the silence. They have been friends since childhood, and she was well acquainted with her timid friend’s nature. Today she looked perfect for the occasion and then why couldn’t she settle down her nerves.

“Why do you freak out every time you go to meet that old haggard?” she asked.

Ankita looked at her with pained eyes, “don’t speak about him like that. By the way, why did you come in these stiff formals today? Is it some official presentation of yours?”

Tisha was five years younger than Ankita, but when it came to life’s decisions, they always had a reverse role to play. She knew how badly her friend was in love with Aniket, and it was because of him that in spite of being, 45 she was still unmarried and (supposedly) happily single.

“No. I wanted you to be the show stopper!” she smiled back.

The rest of the way, none of the friends, uttered a word. Tisha was busy practicing her speech, which she was supposed to give at Blogcentric’s meet while Ankita was lost in her dreams.

****************

How vividly she remembers their first chat on Orkut. It just seems like yesterday, when suddenly she had got an STD call on their landline. Aniket was bubbling with excitement, he was calling her after a year to inform that there was a new mode of communication, and they could chat for hours through Orkut.

A friendship which could not take shape when they were in the same town, started flying with new wings of Orkut. They have seen so many dawns together; there have been so many nights when they have looked up at the same stars from distance cities.

“Let’s go, dear, we have reached,” Tisha interrupted her thoughts.

Before climbing up the stairs, her friend looked at her and asked, “Why did you not go to meet Aniket when he was in Kolkata in 2009?”

This was the hundredth time Tisha was asking this question to her, so finally, Ankita surrendered, and replied sheepishly, “Because I feared that on finding how different I looked and sounded, he would have stopped chatting with me.”

 “Now shall we go? Or, do you have any further concerns to be answered?” she muttered under one breath and started climbing up the stairs, without awaiting the response.

On reaching the rooftop, both the friends were impressed with the entire arrangement. Each item had the touch of a professional, passionate artist. A few stalls were lined up near the entrance, with neatly arranged chairs and tables. The discussions had already started, and they could see the podium at the other end of the rooftop.

A young lady with a beaming smile, welcomed them, “Your names please, Ma’ams?”

As they confirmed their details, she escorted them to the front row. Aniket was nowhere – both the pair of eyes searched him for different reasons.

It was hardly 15 minutes when they heard their names being called for their speech on ‘blogging and how it has been playing a crucial role in today’s life.’

As decided, Tisha finished giving her speech amid applauses, and Ankita stood beside her with her bright smile and searching eyes.

Just as when they were about to climb down, a veteran blogger intruded, “Ankita, won’t you say something?”

Ankita stopped or slightly tripped mid-way, but within seconds, she collected herself and walked up towards the microphone.

There was triumph in Tisha’s eye – she knew what an impressive speaker her friend was. What her umpteen coaxing and blackmailing couldn’t do was done by a stranger!

Ankita’s confident stride, enchanting presence, and articulated voice mesmerized the audience from the moment she started speaking.

“Blogging…Back in 2007, when blogging was a completely new concept to me, a friend had said, “When we’ll get engrossed in the race of life, we will have families to look after and have no time for each other, our blogs will speak. Start blogging.”

She continued with a pause, “And thus, I started, but I constantly searched for inspiration in external factor…failure was inevitable!”

She searched through the audience for someone, and resumed with the same vigour, “My blog was famous among friends, but their expectations stooped me down, so just when I was about to re-shut myself up in the pages of my diary, my friend reminded me that I should never hide myself from the world. I should write whatever my heart says, and the friend explained a lot of benefits… and all of which my dear friend Tisha had already discussed today!”

Everyone laughed. And once they settled down, she concluded with her flamboyant flair, “So my dear audience, blogging has a lot of benefits. It’s up to you to find out the reason for it. Once you know the true inspiration, you are sure to touch the sky and fulfill every dream associated with it.”

She bowed and the two friends left the stage. The moment they reached their designated seat, Ankita clenched Tisha’s hand and whispered, “I want to leave.”

“Don’t be crazy! And stop shaking, you know you were fantabulous.” She scolded, “You can’t leave before meeting him. Where the hell is he? Call him now!”

Ankita scanned the area for the last time and as she got up to leave, she smiled at her friend, “Sorry! ..have to go. Please stay till the end, meet him, and once all done, call me. Bye.”

She would have rushed down the stairs, if the fresh aroma of Darjeeling tea near the stairs, wouldn’t have wafted in the air. “How could I miss it when I came.” She mused, “I have missed it so badly in the last five days.”

Once again, she looked around as if to confirm no eyes were following her, and walked up to the stall, “Do you have Darjeeling tea, preferably 2nd flush.”

The stall-keeper smiled in acknowledgment, “please take a seat ma’am, will serve in a few minutes.”

She pointed to the corner of the rooftop and said, “I will wait there.”

After ages, she was craving for a smoke and was engrossed considering options, when a mild tap on her shoulder caught her attention. Turning back, she saw the most charming man grinning at her, with a naughty smile on his lips, “Are you looking for this?” handing over a pack of Milds and a lighter, he asked.

Continued….

The post Love Story of Lost Souls appeared first on KolkataFusion.

While she stood at the door, thoughts started filling her mind! It began infiltrating her present with the moments of togetherness, the moments when her carefree lover Harish used to make comments on her ‘ugly-beauty’. 

Harish – Her life! Unlike her, he was ‘Std. X fail’ and had not taken any initiative of studying since the day their school teacher had caught them red-handed playing some nasty games in the garden. Riha was a shameless girl, and in spite of all the insults, she had neither stopped loving her childhood romance nor had she stopped going to school. Coming from suburbs, she was one of the rarest species, who had completed studying Std. XII and was working as a nurse at a Government hospital.

On the other hand, her dear man used to drive an auto. Riha’s shift timings were mostly at the wee hours, and that was also their time for romance. They used to meet an hour before her shift and again spend an hour together post her duty hours. She mostly preferred the night shifts as foreplay in the auto was their best sport and the wee hours suited it.

Harish – The fatherless child. He had lost his father at a nascent stage, and his mother was his world. Renu used to work as a cook in a ‘dhaba’ near the EM Bypass, and it seemed nothing else mattered to her except her son. No, his father was not dead, but he had left them for some other lady and lived in the suburb nearby. He used to hit his mother often so the day he left them, they were more relieved than grief-stricken and moreover it wasn’t anything new happening in their ‘chawl.’ Harish and Renu shared a lovely bond, and fortunately for Riha, Renu had accepted her as her prospective daughter-in-law, without any hassle. They often used to go out together, and she was a regular guest at their house. Why were they not married yet? Even Riha didn’t know; might be because of the whimsical dreams of Harish. Riha smiled thinking about them…’his dreams’..

Harish – The dreaming boy! He had big plans. He had started earning at an early age, driving an auto for daily commuters, but he had dreams to be a chauffeur of a Hummer. He loved cars and shared an incredible friendship with the cars. He used to say that he had already taken the first step towards his dream as he already owned an auto when he had asked for Riha’s hands in marriage, from her parents. When he was not driving the auto or spending time with Riha or his other friends, he worked in a garage and was even considered as the best mechanic there. Thanks to his scope of work, Riha had got the chance to ride an i10 one day and a Swift Desire the other day; just yesterday they had to take the Swift Desire to the owner’s house, post repairing for delivery. During these deliveries, Harish used to take her with him, and just a few blocks away from the house he used to drop her near some tea stall. Riha used to wait there for Harish and then they used to walk back home, chatting, talking about the past, and planning for the future. Others might think it to be impossible, but in one occasion, they had even walked all the way from Jadavpur to Chingrighata! When she was with Harish, time flew. Even after ten years, they never seemed to grow bored of each other.

Memories… memories… memories..They knew no bounds and had no end!

Her thoughts were suddenly disrupted by a loud sound from somewhere, and she jolted back to the present. She had to hold the door for balancing herself as the jolt was quite a harsh one. Where was Harish? Had he not gone to purchase gifts for his friend’s marriage? She was at the hospital when she heard about the accident because of which the slum dwellers had set five buses on fire. She was waiting for him to come and was cursing him for being late when she had heard about the two guys being hit by a bus post breaking the signal.

As she was trying hard to bind the threads of her thoughts, she saw four men entering from the main door of the hut with a mass wrapped in a white sheet. The man leading them, shouted something like,” Mashi, we have killed those scoundrels!” Even before she could fathom what was happening, she thought she saw a smirk on Renu’s lips, and with tear laden eyes, she looked up at Riya to only utter those few words, before turning toward the dead body of Harish,

“Go away, girl; you have no place in this house anymore.”

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