I believe in pink - III

(contd)

I could not get sleep and took my Kindle out to read. The light was on in the hall as my Kindle does not have integrated light. After around twenty minutes, I looked up to see her coming out of the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sleepily.

“Reading. Trying to read, in fact.”

“I do not want to sleep alone. I do that all the time.”

So saying, she lay down near me on the floor, placing her head on my lap. I started caressing her head with my hand. In a few minutes, she was asleep again.

Nuggets from her life where I was part of, started replaying in my head. I met her while taking a lecture for Chartered Accountancy students, around 8-9 years back. She was the most beautiful and intelligent of the lot. There was a charm about her. Normally, many lectures are motions which the lecturer and the lecturee are unwilling to undergo, but they do out of compulsions. They jointly push the hour, minute and seconds hands on the clock. But this one was engaging, as was palpable from her questions and logical posers. During lunch, she came to me and we had a chat. We parted but she kept in touch. There was never the slightest inkling of events to unfold – she giving up her CA before the final exams and becoming one of the top actresses of South India. We were in touch on and off and it was after a long time that we got to meet. I had chanced upon her at a couple of airports, but that was it.

Here she was, one of the most talented and beautiful actors of her time, lying on my lap trying to sleep her worries away. Strange is life, with its twists and turns. You don’t know how many inflection points it has.

An hour would have passed when she started tossing and turning around, presumably because of the height of my lap from the floor as compared to a small pillow. I gently persuaded her to wake up and hit the sack in the bedroom. She hugged me close and dozed off on my chest. After some time, began my forty winks.

Saturday, July 23, 2016.

I woke up. I had switched off my 4:30 am alarm as I had gone to bed only close to that time. It was just over 6. I found her in the kitchen, making coffee and toast.

“Where did you keep the toaster? I thought of making a sandwich, but could only see this pan,” she said, pointing to the induction stove. I brushed and had coffee with her. It was a long time since I had coffee with someone in such a warm setting. But, unfortunately, good times have been passing clouds in my life.

“11.00 a.m. is my flight to Chennai.” She was wearing a blue embroidered top with white leggings. She looked much better in the morning. As we were about to leave the house, it was her turn to extend her arms and hug me.

“Thank you,” she said. “I feel better, really better.”

“Shall I make you feel even better? This is a small para from one of the pieces that I am writing. I feel it is appropriate for you. The population on this world is like a football. The most beautiful people are like the small hole in the football. 75% of them are beautiful. 24.99% of them are gorgeous. The remaining 0.01% are ethereal, not of this world. They are a sight for the Gods, not only because they look so, but because they are such wonderful people at heart.

She smiled, more of a blush, I guess. She placed a peck on my cheek.

In the car, she was conversing animatedly on her favourite movies, cartoon characters, books, cuisine and the like. Her eyes were so bright and her smile so natural and wide, when she spoke about them. It reinforced a thought that I have been having all along – there is a child in all of us adults; but the little girl in a woman is omnipresent. She always wants to be a little girl, frolicking around in gay abandon. Small, little things interest her and make her happy, when she adorns that avatar. I believe women are their truest self when they are such.

“Why don’t you complete your C.A.?” I asked her when we were nearing the airport. “What? C.A.? Now?” “Why not? Take an apartment, settle in Thane for a year and lets go for a CA Final together”. I said even as she started laughing. “Let me think about it,” she said.

At the airport, she hugged me and I kissed her forehead.

“This is for you,” I said, giving her a little stuffed teddy bear which she always said she liked. “So thoughtful,” she said. “I have many, but this is one I will indeed treasure. I love you so much”. Another hug followed. As she was getting out of the car, “One minute,” and came out to the driver’s side. “This is for you,” she said. “Read it after I leave.” It was a small card in an envelope. Even when I was looking at it, she hugged my head and placed a deep wet kiss on my cheek. “Bye,” she said. The traffic policeman was motioning me to leave. I drove for a few meters out of the airport and on to the main express highway. I parked my car to the side of the road and opened the little card she had given me. She had addressed it to me.

“Beyond the forest,

Over the mountains,

beyond the streams

Was a black rock

On it was written, you are indeed a good boy!......”

Written in her beautiful handwriting with a heart symbol, a smiley and her signature. The rain started pounding harder when I resumed my journey to Thane. Outside the car, the wiper blades started fighting the drops of rain. Inside, my eye lids started blinking, ostensibly to fight the drops of tears.

(concluded)