Excerpt from Kabhie Kabhie
The ever flowing Dal lake appeared mighty, strong currents in a constant confrontation with its redundant green dangling siblings. Shirin’s mind buzzed with an onslaught of thoughts. Right at that moment she was thinking about how her mother had once said that the mighty Dal was completely wasted. Yet somehow the Dal never failed to mesmerize her. On that particular night, it resembled a blooming bride on her wedding night.
From the houseboat’s window, the Shankaracharya hills, looming large, stood frozen in time. It felt like she was the insecure being in a majestic painting. Emperor Jahangir’s saying floated consciously to her- ‘Gar firdaus bar-rue zamin ast, hami asto, hamin asto, hamin ast.’ If there is a heaven on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here!
‘What a beautiful quote for a land like no other!’ She wondered. Eyes the size of saucers, her gaze zoomed into a subtle quietude, the crashing of steady water against hard surfaces. She zoned out, into a land similar to Kashmir in its beauty, charm and grace.
Her thoughts took a steep turn, cascading downwards towards troubled waters. A bad feeling made itself known in the pit of her stomach. Shirin was thinking about Ansar, her boyfriend of two years and her husband of 1 month.
‘Was it Ansar?’ She wondered loudly, ‘What was she feeling? Why was she feeling like that? Was it wrong?’
‘It is wrong…,’ she thought again. ‘Then what was the problem…her or him?’
The harsh sound of a wooden door crashing against its frame made its way. It was Ansar! What did he want, she wondered irked by the sudden commotion.
Long hands pulling her into him, answered Shirin’s thoughts. Ansar’s hands roamed about following a mischievous trail, while his head rested heavily onto her one right shoulder. She could see their faded reflection in the window- two pieces belonging to one, yet not a fit. ‘Had she always felt that?’
Excitement kicked in, automatically making her feel a certain warm, nostalgic hope. This was soon defeated by an overpowering sense of sourness. It was an unsettling thing to feel and it was wreaking havoc on her mind and her relationship. Ansar’s loose hug tightened. Annoyance reared its ugly head, she wanted to tear herself away from him.
‘What was wrong with her…Why wasn’t she liking it?’ With hesitation marking her every thought and every movement, she tore her eyes away from the night reflecting onto the calm waters of the Dal, turning around to finally face him. She recoiled at what she saw. As sudden as the sensation was, it had vanished too.
Pausing her doubts for the moment, she lifted her husband’s chin with her fingers, forcing both him and her to look at each other, to really look. They were observing each other so closely, for the first time. His gaze didn’t feel like her lover’s gaze, in fact the gaze in question felt invasive, as if her skin was being poked, icy pinpricks circled her eyes, her head, her mouth and her lips.
He cupped her chin with one hand, while the other journeyed on its own accord. For an eternity they stood looking at each other, gauging each other’s moods, needs, wants, sensations and feelings. Tracing her cheek, he bent down, eye level with her, every now and then his eyes like candle flames flickered to her lips.
Before she registered what was happening, she blurted out, “I am going to heat the food.”
With confusion scribbled all over his gaze, he said, “Now?”
“Yes…” With his eyes closed and his hands pressed onto his forehead, he moved behind letting her go instantly. What was wrong with her? Why was she behaving like…like that?
He registered sudden feelings of rejection and anger. He wanted to force her, taking deep breaths, he tried his best at calming down. Yet the feeling of wanting to punch the wall remained with him that day and for many more days to come.
His eyes circled around the lustrous Dal. He wanted to pour in all his frustrations, his insecurities and his boiling rage. ‘What was happening,’ he wondered. ‘Why was she behaving like that, like his touch was wrong and not in the forbidden way, but otherwise in the creepy way.’ He had seen the fleeting look in her eyes when he was touching her. His grandmother’s warning rung loudly in his ears. Clearing his head of the wayward thoughts, he pushed himself towards the kitchen. Planting an easy smile on his face, he moved in her direction. The kitchen was bare minimum, a black box of rice sat finely on the light wooden plank, a black rectangular container had the prawns. His eyes traced her, in a plain black pencil dress his wife looked ravishing.
He stepped closer as if to try again, noticing her fists tightening, he stepped away. A string of warning bells rung high and loud, a scene from the past came alive.
His grandmother, feeble and wrinkled resembled a little mouse on the ancient teak bed. She nodded at a younger Ansar, with her bent bony fingers she called him towards her bed. Ansar bent forward, ‘Papi, how are you today?’
‘Fine dikra, by God’s grace…’
‘Good. Are you taking the medicines? Papi? ‘
‘Su dikra, my body is no kachra ni peti, I am not going to dump any more of that angrezi daavai. Thara Papa ni jaan lidhi…that killed your grandfather…’
‘Papi, common… moh kholo, open your mouth, there you go. Now just water. Sit up, take this glass. Papi common I’ll help you up…’
‘I will only take these, if you also listen to me…’
‘What is it Papi, you know hoon thamari vaat nathi taalto, I am listening to you, tell me. ‘
‘Don’t marry her dikra. This won’t last…’
The sound of a glass plate clattering, brought him back to present time. He bent to pick up the shards, as did Shirin. She couldn’t steal her gaze away from his intimate one.
“Hey… what is it?”
“It’s nothing! Don’t worry.”
“Please talk to me…” His hands itched to push that rabid midnight black strand away from her forehead.
“Stop it,” she managed to say in between breaths.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. I am quite enjoying this. I don’t want to stop.”
“I said stop. Please…” came a muffled reply.
“Why? We’ve just been married three weeks?”
“It’s not that!” Glaringly, she tore herself away from him.
Bending down to collect her paisley shawl, she wrapped it around herself tightly. Thoughts of the Dal lake market floated in, where she had purchased the maroon and golden pashmina. Sahir Ludhianvi’s Kabhi kabhi played back and forth in her head…
“Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai,
ke jaise tujhko banaya gaya hai mere liye,
tu ab sey pehle sitaron mein bas rahi thi kabhi,
tujhe zameen pey bulaya gaya hai mere liye.”
As the song’s lyrics transfixed her, her thoughts departed towards the first flush of love, when cupid had finally set his eyes on her and when the arrow had landed in his heart. Her husband was a charming man, everything about him was grand and mysterious. She remembered vividly the details of that day, two months ago, he had proposed to her. He had sung this very song, acknowledging that originally it was a love letter from Ludhianvi to Amrita Pritam, but in today’s time it could only be made for them.
Comments