Twilight

I stand atop the small sand dune that slopes down towards the rumbling sea. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and feel a smile blooming within me.

I start walking towards the sea. The sun is a big ball of beautiful fire, slowly sinking into the churning waters. The sky has so many shades of pink, red and crimson tinting the delicate blue. It reminds me of a wish a friend once made. I want curtains of exact that colour. Today, I want them too.

I reach the sea and the first waves eagerly welcome me. I delight in their embrace, the sensation of the earth slipping out from between my toes. My eyes sweep the beach. I am alone. I like this solitude. This world at this moment belongs to me. The sea, the sun, the evening – everything. I am greedy and not willing to share it with anyone else.

For some moments, I stand still, absorbing the beauty of the seascape, trying to see beyond the horizon and to scoop out a bit of the crimson glory out of the sun on my fingertip. I give up a little later and turn to walk aimlessly along the sea.

As I walk, I can hear in my head the melody of a song, the rhythm of an Iktara. I smile and hum it slowly under my breath, letting the breeze carry my voice over the waves. Almost like a message in a bottle. Maybe it would reach some distant shores and an answering song would come dancing. Pure fantasy, some may say. But who decides what is real and what is fanciful.

Coming across a partially embedded conch shell, I stoop and dig it out, even as the mischievous waves attempt to steal it out of my gritty fingers. I finally hold it in my palm and let out a small whoop of joy. A little further on, I see a crab scuttling towards me. I take a frightened step back, only to realize that it does not seek to bite me. It only seeks to go to its hiding hole, close to my feet. I shake my head at my own fear and decide to continue.

There is a lighthouse that I can see in the distance. It does not look too far. But I know that that could simply be the result of optical illusion. It does not matter, though. I have this evening and the night to come. All of it my own. For the first time. And who knows it may be the last.

I shall not turn back, I resolve. And continue my not-quite-aimless meander towards that beacon, as the evening began to gather the last vestiges of twilight in her arms, to make way for my favourite silver Enchantress.

And Iktara continues to play, silently, ceaselessly.....

A Sunday to Savour

I am not very fond of Sundays. They are the precursors to Monday blues. That is more than enough reason to not like the day God deemed for rest.

But today was different. I do not know how exactly that happened. Yet it did.

Last night when I went off to sleep, I was not particularly looking forward to today – a Sunday. I generally hate going out on this day but today I had to. To exercise my fundamental right. To vote in the city civic elections.

I do not vote in the area I currently live in. I am registered in the electoral roll of my grandparents’ locality. So are my parents and siblings.

It was an exceptionally hot day and we set out around 11 a.m. to vote. Quite surprisingly, we found no long line in front of our allotted booth. We were in and out within minutes. I should have seen that as an omen. A good omen.

Rights exercised, we walked the short distance to my grandparents’ place. I had spent the first sixteen years of my life here before we had to shift due to space constraints. My uncle, aunt and cousins still live here along with my grandparents who are currently out of town. To us, this small first floor apartment with its cramped rooms is home still. “Ghar” is what we still call it.

We had lunch at “Ghar”. My aunt had prepared a veritable feast. Nothing too fancy, mind you. Just simple, traditional Indian “ghar ka khana”. And it was delicious. I overate and those who know me would see this as a rarity.

We spent some time after that cooped in my uncle and aunt’s small bedroom, watching TV. The channels alternated between the vernacular news channels that my dad is addicted to and the sports channel that was beaming the latest cricket match featuring the ‘Men in Blue’. There were jokes cracked, legs pulled, mobile phone cameras engaged till one by one we drifted off to sleep.

Twilight saw an impromptu cricket match being played and tea and lemonade being devoured before we set off for home. My parents stayed back to attend a wedding. My siblings and I returned home and spent the evening watching India romp home to victory, demolishing pizza, Maggi and garlic bread with cold coffee and ice cream.

I am rounding off my day with a Jodi Picoult novel and a single eye and ear on ‘Wake Up Sid’, which my brother wants to watch. And I have been continuously humming ‘Iktara’.

It has been such a wonderful day. Simple, with no single stand out moment. There were no special memories that happened. There were no ecstatic crests and no depressing lows. Yet it was a Sunday that I savoured and I would remember. For a long time to come. Perhaps forever. Especially because it was an unexpected gift.

And who says all surprises have to be jaw dropping. Sometimes, they just sneak up on you and leave you with a warm, soft, lovely feeling. It is called contentment. I have it. For now.

Good night.