Uneasy, she is very uneasy. It is incomparable uneasiness. No simile or metaphor can define that level of loss of ease. The need for cigarettes arises as brightly as the sexy sun. She goes to the nearest store and asks for three Marlboros along with a one rupee match box. She puts them all in her shiny silky silvery bag. She now tries to locate a detached corner. The place remains unmerciful. There is no secret spot where she can hide and smoke those three. She decides to leave and search a new territory. She runs hurriedly across the busy road and reaches the other end. She can spot some wilderness at a distance. It is far but time is at hand. She sets her feet on the dust of the pavement and continues to move. The wind blows wildly messing all her hair. Is it a message from some lost forgotten lover? She feels disgusted but carries on. She puts her hand in her bag and takes out one Marlboro. She tries desperately to light it but fails to do so. The wind would not allow it. The scratching sound produced by the matchstick as it slides on the rough brown side of the matchbox sets perfect rhythm for her. She tries for some more time but blowing air proves hindrance. Our lady puts the cigarette back and approaches that uncanny wilderness. The swish of the wind, the noisy footsteps and the urgency to reach the spot occupy the fort of her mind.
The swan stops gliding now. She quickens her pace and reaches the place. There are trees there, so many trees. There are ants there, so many ants. She sits under one mindless tree. There are two more couples there. But the little narcissistic self does not care. She feels like Satan in this love atmosphere. Desperately she rummages through the contents of her bag and finds them. These are life savers at moments of unconditional darkness. She lights one. From the corner of her eye, she can feel the stares of the so called lovers. They resent her singular presence. She is single and smoking. It is definitely a killer scenario; but not appreciable at ‘love’ time. But as the grey smoke rises up, the cupid of worry fades away. The arrows fail to inject worries now. The smoke creates a thick fog around and assuredly the cupid can no longer see her. She feels at ease.
The fog parts a bit and an old beggar approaches the tree. He looks as old as the tree under which she is seated. He asks the two couples for money without luck. He starts going away but does not beg our little girl for alms. She wonders what is wrong. Does the smoke make her a beggar herself? She summons him and gives him five rupees. The fog parts more. A new beggar emerges now. Again, he does not come to her on his own. But she calls out to him and hands over five rupees again. Amidst the laughter of the couples and the rush of the wind through the leaves of the tree, she looks down at herself. She wonders the reason behind none of the beggars approaching her.
Killing this thought midway, emerges a new character, another beggar but a woman this time. She has a crooked nose. Her skin is like black wax. The black wax hugs the bones of her face in a hideously beautiful way. She is wearing boring blue clothes. They must have once been brilliant blue. She goes to the couple and begs for money. They ridicule her and ask her to take her begging gang away. Much to the girl’s disappointment, this woman, too, does not ask her for money. But repeating her monotonous routine, she invites the woman and gives her some change. The woman thanks her and turns to go away. The girl suddenly (surprised at herself) asks her to stop and sit with her for a while under the lovely shade. The woman obliges. The girl takes out some chewing gums from her bag and offers it to the woman. The woman takes it and tells the girl how she has never eaten gum before. The girl laughs and asks the woman about her life. The woman gets rather interested. She tells little bit about her dead husband and her married daughter. She is attached to her daughter. Her talks made it evident. She has a charming voice, like magical incantation.
The girl then notices the woman’s’ slippers, dusty and black. She then looks at hers, shiny and purple. She keeps on looking at the two slippers to draw distinctions. She has an abrupt urge to exchange this footgear. But won’t the new shiny purple ones look odd underneath her ragged boring blue clothes? Won’t people refuse to give her alms on the pretext of her having new slippers on her feet? The couples around her are still there. She could almost hear their interior monologues which questioned her companionship with the beggar woman.
Fighting in her mind with these vexing views, the charming voice enters her with tremendous force and breaks this trance. It is mystifying to realize that the voice both brought and broke the trance. The woman asks for leave now. She does not have much time and must gather as much booty as possible. The girl lets her go. The woman blesses her again and walks away. The girl’s eyes follow her and her slippers. She leaves little footprints on the dust as she walks. Her steps fly away some dust too. The girl gets up and starts following the woman. She walks on the woman’s footmarks. She covers ten steps. But then turns back, retraces those ten steps and keeps on moving ahead. The woman goes her away, the girl goes hers.
Coming was invited, parting accepted.
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Also published at :- http://youth24x7.com/creations/stories/228-smoky.html
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