Today
I have woken up all dazed today. She is gone. Three precious little days, and she is gone. I look around, a slight buzz buzzing in my head. It doesn’t seem right – the room without her. Something’s amiss. It was this way three days ago, it’s the same three days later, but something’s changed.
It’s the smell.’ Her smell is still lingering in the room’ - I tell myself. My Self replies back – ‘or maybe she is still there…inside you…maybe she never left”. I realise I am not making any sense. I shut my Self up. Still dizzy, I try and think back to the past 3 days…think back to try and figure out what is it that might have changed between then and now. But my memories are glazed. They are not the discrete snapshots they used to be. Instead, they are like water flowing down over vertical glass. They are in constant flux. They are like quicksand…the harder I try…the deeper I sink into this hazy, surreal feeling. It’s like I am looking at my own mind through a window…and the closer I look…the more my own breath fogs the glass.
3 days ago - 8.00am
I have woken up smiling. Waking up to her is like waking up to…actually anything else isn’t waking up at all. But she isn’t there by my side. I look around worried…like a kid who slept with his trophy last night and couldn’t find it when he woke up. But it doesn’t take long for me to spot her…how could it. Drying her hair by the dressing table, she is the perfect vision of the perfect vision. And then there is her smell...that mesmerising fragrance…that debilitating perfume. She reminds me of Eskimos…how they use refrigerators to keep their food warm. I see her spray herself with some perfume…and I know that she uses it in the same way… to cover up that sweet intoxication that emanates from every cell in her body. Our eyes meet…she smiles…and I nod in agreement…such potency must be kept in check…at bay.
11:00 am
I’m riding a bike and she is sitting behind me…clutching me tightly…as if holding on for dear life. I open the throttle a little more and the bike surges ahead. She clutches harder. I feel invincible…What can hurt me…when life is clinging on to me for dear life.
My thoughts are glazed. She is saying something to me…trying to shout over the winds gushing past. But I just have music in my ears. Music in my ears and warmth over my back. She is trying really hard to ask me something…”How long does it take to Pushkar?” she asks.
I remember wondering about how cruel it is to remind someone in heaven that a concept of finite time exists.
I answer … “about 45 minutes”.
“We must grab something to snack upon on the way…some biscuits perhaps.” she says in reply.
We are almost at the edge of Ajmer. By now I pretty much know every shop worth knowing in this town. I smile and nod a confident nod. A minute later I am parking. We enter this store and it suddenly hits me…I have lost the ability to shop like I used to…like everyone else does. Everything around me is reduced to being a formulation, a concoction of chemicals packed in one of the many choices of packaging material, planted at eye level by a salesman on the payrolls of the distributor who has paid for this and now expects me to buy it and pay him back. I can no longer just pick something because I like the look of it…because I know someone made it this way precisely because they knew I would like the look of it. I see the scheme. I know the schemer. I know that I am getting this razor for a third of its price now, because the schemer wishes to milk me when I buy blades. I know this Rs 6. Product is being offered to me at 5 because a 6 rupee coin doesn’t exist. I know that this shampoo that promises to make me a superstar is nothing but a glorified detergent and a lot of water. I know…and I can’t not know now.
But this isn’t about me. I chose for things to be this way. It’s about her…and she is done doing what I can’t.
11:30am
The road winds…tracing the valley…cutting across two mountains. I remember feeling poor…at a loss of words to describe the view. She is quiet too. There is music in my ears.
My thoughts are glazed…but I vividly recall what I saw next. On our way we have gone past hundreds of billboards, but this one is different. With the dark green color…that background made to look like bricks…a psychedelic white font specifying the name…The Pink Floyd Hotel has a sign board that one can’t afford to miss. Bang in the middle of nowhere, flanked by billboards inviting you to have continental food at Vaishno Inn and delicious sea food at Jagdamba resorts…the billboard might as well have read ‘Randomness Begins’.
She is also looking at it now…she is also as amazed…she is also in agreement…this is one place we must visit. I open the throttle again. She clutches harder, again. I feel alive.
To be continued......
