THE STRANGER IN MY HOME
  • Home
  • Vignettes
    • Encounters
    • Events
    • Experiences
    • Epiphanies
  • Stories
  • Fables
  • Translations
  • Miscellany
  • Now/Then

now  /  then

blogs and blends

Two Persons, Three Days

5/13/2017

8 Comments

 
​I have never written to you. I don’t know what possesses me to write to you now. I only know that I want to write to you, perhaps as a matter of closure. Having said that, I realize that I don’t even want such closure.
 
I met you briefly in the university. We took the same course and we were in the same class a few times. We spoke inconsequentially a couple of times. Then you left. I heard you were taking another course elsewhere, in another city. I did not see you for a long time.
 
Until two years later.
 
You called and reminded me that we had met in a classroom. I told you the reminder was not necessary. You had a distinctive way of talking and I remembered it. I also said I was happy to hear from you.
 
You asked if we could meet. I said that I lived right next to the university and you were welcome to visit me. I gave you directions and, because I lived in a gated community, instructed the guards to guide you when you came.
 
When I opened the door to you the next day, I was speechless for a moment. You looked different: compared to the girl I had met earlier, you looked more grown-up and self-possessed. You looked beautiful, and I felt breathless.
 
You smiled and I took your hand.
 
You mentioned a conflict with your family and said that you were now on your own. You had taken a job and intended to stay in town and finish the course. I was happy to hear it and I said so. We had tea and we talked for a long time.
 
When you left, I said I hoped to see you again soon. You promised me I would.
 
You called two days later and said that you had several questions about the course and would appreciate it if we could talk. You came early and again we talked for a long time. The talk was not all about the course. You told me about your life with your family and how sad it was that it had ended the way it had. You spoke of your dreams and the independent life you had always wanted to achieve.
 
In turn I told you of the kind of life I dreamed of as my university days were about to end. I wanted a life of action, but I also wanted a life of ideas. I knew the two were not easy to reconcile. I also said I have had a loving family. Going forward, I could not think of a life without some measure of love and friendship.
 
I remember my mother returned early that day and she invited you to stay back and have an early dinner with us. She sat you next to my father, facing me, and I sat transfixed watching you as you smiled and talked, mostly to my mother who was, I could guess, a little concerned about a young woman living alone for the first time in a big city. When you left, my mother said to me that you were a pleasant person and I should help in whatever way I could. I said I would like to.
Picture
You had said that you might get in touch with me the following week. So I was surprised to get a call from you the very next day. You said you were at the university to see a professor and he wasn’t there, and wondered if I had some time to see you.
 
When I saw you at the door, I was about to say how delighted I was to see you unexpectedly, when I suddenly found you in my arms. My pulse raced as I held you, your breath on my neck. I kissed your hand and asked you if you had to go back to see the professor.
 
“I don’t have to see anybody,” she said. “I fibbed. I came to see you.”
 
I scarcely believed my ears. We had a whole day and an empty apartment to ourselves. I looked at you, your glistening forehead, your quivering nose, your full lips, and my heart was in my mouth. I could not speak.
 
Here was the person of my dreams standing with her arms around my neck, my body sensing her uneven breathing, her fragrance enveloping, almost obliterating my whole existence. There was nothing I could have said. For a second I thought you were crying. Then you smiled, and I held you hands and kissed you.
 
Time must have stopped. I seemed to be holding you for a long time.
 
Then we stepped out on the large terrace next to the apartment. We walked aimlessly, we talked endlessly. Nothing else mattered as long as I had you next to me. I had never been happier.

Picture
I had paid no attention to the darkening clouds. When the rain started, we could have stepped back into the apartment. The drizzle seemed some kind of a benediction. So we just stood there. We stood as the rain poured, drenching us literally to the skin. It seemed the most natural thing to cling to one another, and I kissed you again and again.
 
When we returned to the apartment, I got you my tracksuit to wear and put up your clothes for drying.
 
I ordered some food from the restaurant downstairs, and we sat down to eat. You looked splendidly incongruous but radiant in my tracksuit. Just facing you made me lose my appetite. I can still see you sitting in our sun-drenched dining room, smiling and asking why I wasn’t eating, touching my hand in a reassuring gesture, and, finally, leaving the table to turn off the music and say to me, “Just sit with me, please.”
 
I had three full days with you. Three days of rapture and peace. I was desperately, irrecoverably in love with you.
 
At the end of the third day, you told me that you were betrothed to a person I knew. You were committed to marry him in six weeks.
 
I never saw you again.
 
Except twelve years later, while I was changing planes at Heathrow, I saw you, with your husband, moving toward another boarding area. Years had passed, but you looked no different to me. No different either was my reaction: I felt breathless and had to clutch my briefcase as I sat down in the first seat I could find.
 
The news reached me last week that cancer had claimed you as its latest victim. Those three days somehow endure in my mind as an indelible, inscrutable memory. I remain the willing victim of its tenacious grasp.

8 Comments
Arindam Sengupta
5/15/2017 10:33:53

A moving tale narrated wonderfully.

Reply
Manish
5/15/2017 11:37:19

Thanks, Arindam. This keeps me going!

Reply
Kuheli Alley
5/15/2017 13:05:03

I can feel a stunned heart, grieving, and maybe wishing, if not for three days at least hours more with her.. I relate. Awesome.

Reply
Manish
5/15/2017 16:35:27

Kuheli: There is no greater compliment for me when someone says, "I relate." Thank you for writing and letting me know. Greatly appreciate your candid note.

Reply
Alan Krishnan
5/15/2017 18:52:57

What an experience ! To live in the hearts of those you leave behind is not to die. What she went through only she knew and what a tragedy society puts pressures on human bahavior. True martyr and inspirational. She lived for a cause and is sorely missed.

Reply
Manish
5/15/2017 22:27:08

Alan, So good to hear from you. Indeed she is quite alive in my mind.
Thanks for your comment.

Reply
Samar(bobby)
6/20/2017 03:05:33

Life belongs to a endless energy cycle and to a music thereof.
The rhythm in your heart. Hear it-the endless saga.
No pain,
The sublime touch is there.

Reply
Manish
6/22/2017 09:04:18

Thank you, Samar, for your gracious comment.
Do feel free to comment whenever you are inclined. You will be welcome.

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Manish Nandy

    Writer, Speaker, Consultant
    Earlier: Diplomat, Executive


    Archives

    January 2022
    December 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015

    RSS Feed


    Categories

    All

Proudly powered by Weebly
© Manish Nandy 2015  The Stranger in My Home