BEYOND THE CLOUDS...

                   Treading through the green lush of the woods, the rhythm of my system caught hold of the flustered wind. The wind breezed, the murmur of the meandering brook clasped me taut; the shrivelled flowers bamboozled me with their faint smell. I was once again in the arms of a necromancer weaving his exquisite powers, a question unravelling me through a long decade. A decade through which my spirits rose and sank, my vigour fought and spat, my memories giggled and wriggled. The year when I met Sam. I am thirty six now. Ten extensive years have taken me nowhere. It has only boiled me from my memories down to my scorching dreams. A dream like a wing which could fly as it pleases, which could leap and swift whenever necessary, never stooping down.

                  I never knew what went off beam between me and Sam. Sam was my zeal, the true core of my life. We began as never to end but ended up as if never to begin. I met Sam when we were twenty. We knew each other through the corridors of our Engineering College though we were in two different streams. Had there been life for the walls over there, they would have cast us somewhere to portray what our fire was for the generations to come. We started living together when we were twenty five. We never married for we shared more than a husband and a wife. We began our life together eleven years back when my passions and pains twiddled each other in Sam’s arms. Swaddled in the care of each we polished each other to procure a crystal out of it. Slammed with the thunders of life I never knew when the petals of our verve started drooping.

                 I bear in mind the carvings of Khajuraho temple where the engravings moulded us into one soul. The celestial clutched us to a bed of roses where we lay cuddled with each other. The splash of water at the temple clamoured with the convulsions of our body. A flooded river...became I. That was my planet. My world with Sam.

                 A world without Sam I had spent for the past ten years. The world felt like a gargantuan drab stone - hard, huge and haunting. Sam disappeared on the second day of our Khajuraho trip. He vanished. He disappeared. With his disappearance I died. Not once but again and again. Media reported the Mysterious Missing of a Mechanical Engineer. The families clustered me with blames. Complaints after complaints I bombarded to different Police Stations, Politicians and Ministers. But I knew they were discarded in some unknown baskets. I could never mellow with the days that grew up enormous before me devoid of Sam. I finished ten years, I must say I chased ten years and ran past them to reach to my Sam. Today after amorphous years I receive a letter. “Dear... Sam here. I am still alive”. Consequently began my life once again. From tremples through troubles to trials. I still love the way Sam hugs me. He listens to my unrelenting twitter. Without hesitations, with convictions, he listens to me. It is only Sam who can listen to me with a sparkle in his eyes. My grumbles, my grief, my obsessions. He questions me, He provokes me, He argues with me, He scolds me, but again it is appealing when Sam does it to me. He has packed the void of these long ten years even before he moved out for I can live at the moment without Sam. But his memories keep me alive. Today I am going to meet Sam after ten years. After the dreadful days I had spent through waiting for him each day, each minute. I am still oblivious what happened to Sam on that day. We clinched each other and posed for photographs around the holy shrine. I was going through the digital pictures and was mocking him for the poses he settled in. Soon after I recognized I conversed with the current of air without Sam around me. I searched for him. I rang him up. His cell phone gurgled through my handbag. Where was he? Was he captured by any terrorists? Was he a social activist? Did he wittingly leave me forever for I loved him more than he wanted me to? Did he hold any other commitment?  I know Sam well. But still I pity myself for the failure I have witnessed in losing him....losing him for years and years. Yet I woke up each day judging he would come back....had he been alive somewhere.

                                             Life often gauges you not with what you have but what you never would like to lose. The Khajuraho trip has disembowelled me. I felt as if my entrails have been thrown out and I am left with a void spirit- a sheer ghost. I have been holding the two cell phones close to my bosom expecting to hear from Sam one day, someday. I even thought at times that Sam was no more in this world because he wouldn’t keep me away if he were alive. But, however, I preferred believing Sam might have evaded me through which I can still believe he was alive somewhere.

                                            Whilst I stand looking at the transparent water of the river, waiting for Sam to come, I speculate how our emotions are going to tussle with each other after a span of ten years....our sorrows, our passions and our glee. I know what changes have come through me all through these years. I have lost the flicker in my eyes though I could still perceive. My body was devoid of fire though I blistered each moment. Furthermore though my mind is deformed, my fortitude brightens each second. Age had shrunk me but not my spirit. Even when the river reflected a lugubrious expression of my face, my heart thumped with joy and sorrow huddled together.

                                             We married years before with our hearts not with the seal of papers and bonds. In records I am still single. Today in my dreams too. When I received Sam’s letter, I couldn’t read it since my eyes started sprinkling the cascade of sorrow. I read it a million times to see the slanting ‘t’ and the  wicked looking ‘O’ which I used to tease him with, right from our college days. I made sure that it was my Sam. I confirmed it all over again by cross checking it with the old assignments we had done together. I kept it safe in my handbag. I took it out each minute to verify it was not a dream. The Round seal from the Postal Department was rather vague to define the location from where it had been posted. All of a sudden I noticed a sealed address on the rear side of the paper. At first I thought of visiting the place directly. But a second thought held me back. I dialled the number printed on the seal and asked for Samson Aurora. I heard him. His voice which had revitalized me out of all my years. All my tears. I said, “Sam, it’s me Smiran....Smiran Shome. I heard the rosy silence which pulled both of us back to our good old days. Even his silence comforted me with warmth. “Yes dear, we should meet”. He said. I asked instantly, “Where were you Sam? What happened on that day? I have been waiting for you all these years. Tell me. What happened really?

“See Smiran, let’s not blame each other for what happened. We shall meet. We need to.” I knew he needed me more than I needed him. He has always enjoyed the way I used to run my fingers through his unkempt hair. The way he has sprinkled droplets of water over me tilting his head hard after a shower. The way I lulled him to sleep. The way I woke him up with kisses. The way we made food which could only be thrown out. The way I loved him and the way I owned him. The power with which we broke our ties to the world around us. Just by plunging in each other.

                                        Each of his memories had taken me forward without which I would never have completed these ten years. I memorize the first house that we rented. We celebrated our first anniversary, probably the last we had together. We had a beautifully garnished chocolate cake which he revealed as a surprise when the clock struck twelve. We finished the cake cutting ceremony and somehow I was cherished with a bizarre dream then.

“Sam”, I called him and said, “I want to booze”. Sam rather had a surprised look. “youuuuu....”, he said and laughed.

I told him. “Yes, why not? If Sam can, obviously I too can”. He laughed again and said, “Ok..Let’s give a try”.

                                       I had a limited sip which Sam offered me. The harsh bitter taste repulsed me and I asked for something chilly. We went out and purchased what we needed and came back stealthily to our bed chamber without awaking Aunt Marie for she was a disciplinarian, a strict retired Headmistress who had rented out the first floor of her house to us. I started having the fun and I loved it all the more I thought of Sam. Sam advised me of my limits but I demanded more. The more lines are drawn around me, the more I love crossing them. “Smiran, stop it. I know it’s your limit.” Sam informed me again and again but I don’t know why, but still I love crossing the limits, going beyond. Beyond the sky, beyond the clouds. I boozed to such an extent that I started loving Sam more than ever. My pretence was stripped off absolutely and I was like an Eve in Paradise and I was what I really was. I sang, I danced  and I giggled when I saw millions of Sams in front of me. But I could stand it no longer and I started throwing up. The vomit streaks filled the room and poor Sam had to clean it up. I still can’t make out when I dozed off on that day. But those were my days. The days we were like amorous birds. The days we could never remain separated. Still I wonder what happened to Sam that day at the Temple.

                              During my phone call to Sam, we fixed a date then and it’s today that we meet. A meeting to get united once again. When my life harks me back with all its colour. I remember the day when I quarrelled with Sam and moved out to the hall with my Pillow. Each minute expecting I will be called back. But it didn’t happen and I was stunned to witness that he slept well in full comfort when I couldn’t sleep at all with the afterthoughts of our clash. Moreover, the translucent, hefty lizards in golden colour in the hall scared me to death. I couldn’t stand Sam’s peaceful slumber and I splashed a bucket of water on him at 2 O’ clock night. For he knew me well, drenched in water, he turned the other side and continued sleeping as if nothing had happened. I knew that he knew what I wanted him to know and he knew that I knew he wasn’t sleeping at all. That was me and Sam. Still I can’t understand what took Sam away from me? I still believe he was trapped. Otherwise he would not have let me down.

                            The late night drives we had together, the parties in which we rocked – all were my doting memories. I loved speedy, hasty drives during late nights where I would crane through the car window calling out everything coming through my mind. The gentle breeze touches the nape of my neck responding to every answer I seek for. My madness. My childishness. It was only Sam who could see through it. He enjoyed all that I did. We made love as if none had done it ever with such a passion and quarrelled as if the World Wars would stand back. He slapped me once. I slapped him back. We continued slapping each other until we got exhausted and lay in each other’s arms. The mystery of our relation is still unknown. But the magic continues, I know. A magic which robs me completely. A magic which has given me courage to slide through the vicissitudes of life.

                          I knew Sam had taken the struggle of not maintaining a wife or a partner, but an immature child for I lived in a different world with different fantasies where I was a Princess with my Prince. I know Sam’s favourite song which he always used to sing. They adorned me with goose bumps when he sang it for me.

“Because she thinks it pleases me

Like a cat a rat she chases me

She tickles me she teases me

She warms me up she freezes me....

                         That was extremely true as we were always at extremes, ever when we loved, when we ate, when we drank, when we danced and even when we fought with each other. Now I have been left alone with a throne and sceptre without my King. But I was sure Sam would come back. Thus it is today my dream gets fulfilled. I waited for many long hours. Each moment, my heart trembling with fear and fun. How would Sam look like after these long years? Has he given a chance for the wrinkles to cast their shadow? Would he come back to me with a bald head, where I used to slither my fingers? Will he be back condescending rather than maintaining his upright posture? Given answers to all these, will he recognize me? I am thirty six now. My nails which he adored have lost their charm. My long hair which had covered him could no more hide him up for they have left me. Can I use my nails and teeth to soothe him again? I have no answers for He is the answer for all my questions.

                               Three hours have passed since the expected time. I am terrified. Why is he not appearing before me? I have my Cell phone with me. I checked it once more to confirm. No calls. No messages. For he hasn’t called me these days. I have never changed my cell number since the missing of Sam for I trusted deeply he would ring me up one day. But now he  has written me a letter which he never used to do. Even at our rented house we used to sit down on two opposite chairs sending text messages to each other.  People say technology has spoiled relationships. But I do believe they have placed our generations more closer and more warmer. If you know to use your cell phones and Lap tops even when you remain at two poles, you remain together. Technology cuts through distance and sustains relations. When I used to meddle with the vegetables in my kitchen, I find Sam peeping in his Lap Top. Probably in Chat rooms. But rather than yelling out from my kitchen, I reprimand him through my cell connecting it to his chat session. When my curry gets almost ready, I get a beep in my cell. A chat message,  “Should I come to kitchen to help you out”? I read it with a smile on my face and replies “you idiot, Log off your lap and get placed for your dinner”. Technology has never spoiled relations, they have only laid up foundations to build it higher.

                             Sam hasn’t appeared till now. I am rather worried. It’s going to be seven and the dark wood makes me a stranger here. I never knew fear when Sam is beside me. Even the darkness, the nightmares and the spirits vanish when I am with Sam. Just like Sam vanished from me one day. I thought of making a call to the same number I had dialled two days back. I did it finally with a new strength. The phone rang. None picked. I dialled once again. This time a harsh masculine voice appeared. I understand Sam’s voice even from a thousand miles. The voice that keeps ringing in my ears when we were together. He sings songs crashing my eardrum. In objection, I too sing loudly with no melody or rhythm until Marie aunty comes warning us “Keep quiet. It’s my Prayer time”. Still we continued singing in each other’s ears, without voice but with actions. We enjoyed our togetherness more than anything else. But this harsh voice was not Sam’s. I knew. I asked, “Samson Aurora?” The harsh voice replied “Whom do you want?” I repeated “Samson Aurora” He said “there is no one in this name here. This is only a courier service madam. I am the only man working here”. He disconnected the call and there I fell into fragments. I checked the number once more. Yes. It’s the same number I had rang two days before, and Sam spoke to me. And Sam has disappeared. Why didn’t he come? If he never wanted to see me, why did he write a letter to me? Why did he tell he wanted to meet me again when he spoke to me? Questions pulled and pushed me to and fro. Was he trapped in such a way that he cannot come and meet me? Walking through the dry leaves, making a crispy noise, my eyes warmed up not with tears but with a distant song......because he thinks it pleases me

Like a cat a rat he chases me

He tickles me he teases me

He warms me up he freezes me...

A. Krishna Sunder