The Perfect Rendezvous

The land severed under the fiery and scorching heat. The incandescent sun in the crystal clear sky was setting the grounds ablaze. The torrid and parched land was devoid of any trace of life. Even the flutter of a bird was absent. The green in the nature had faded to a pale yellow. A withered twig here and there, in the otherwise desolate field, emphasized the struggle of life against nature. She scampered barefoot along the stony path. Her feet seared and her mouth was dry, but she wanted to be early. She had waited an eternity for this moment. She wanted it to be splendid and ideal. She had never seen a tableau other than the seething heat and the arid grounds. But she had always envisaged an enchanting seashore with golden sand scoured by emerald waves of the ocean.
As she approached the disheveled and downtrodden hut, she saw him. The mere sight was so enthralling. She saw him emerge from within the tall yellow grasses into the clear fields. Her soul was pacified and at the same time she was overwhelmed with fervor and anxiety. She could hear her heart beating and feel the butterflies in her stomach. She stood there watching his advent. With each approaching step, he appeared even more adorable. Although it had been almost a year since they had last met, his light gait and lustrous eyes seemed so familiar. He advanced like a pleasant and convivial breeze in the scathing heat. His mischievous grin enticed her heart.
He touched her hair lightly and slipped his hand into hers. He could feel the warmth in her eyes and the joy that gleamed on her face. She had countless things to say, innumerable queries, but she just smiled at him. As they wandered hand in hand, few gray clouds had assembled in the turquoise sky. Lost in their own world, they were oblivious to such an atypical phenomenon. They came closer. In his eyes, she saw a pining for her, a yearning to be with her. He draped his arms around her waist. A drop of sweat trickled down his brow. Even in this pernicious heat, she felt a chill. Their hearts were beating louder, but they were in perfect rhythm with each other.
As he bent down to kiss her, thunder struck!! The sky was filled with dark clouds. Lightening illuminated every corner of the world. As their lips touched and their souls merged, the first droplets of rain kissed the shriveled earth and the soil emanated vapors of relief. They stood lip-locked in the marrow of the field. The long awaited torrent had finally arrived. They were drenched to the bone in the downpour, but nothing other than their love prevailed on their minds at that moment. The temple bells chimed in unison. Even the Gods approved of their amour.
Nature celebrated their union by reviving the obsolete traces of life through this refreshing gale. The desolate and parched soil molded into a fresh and fertile terrain. From the withered twigs to the children in the village, everyone rejoiced hand in hand at deliverance from their elongated sufferings and distress. This was indeed ‘The Perfect Rendezvous’, so blissful and extraordinary. Sometimes when the entire milieu is painted in an archetypical and prosaic hue, fate finds a way to immortalize such precious moments.

In The Shadows

In the shadows of the old banyan tree nestled a disheveled young boy. His unkempt hair and worn out clothes enticed me. The dried trail of tears spread across his tender cheeks. The innocence that sparkled in his wet eyes depicted the miseries of his fate. Perhaps he was one of those children, who unable to comprehend their fathomless existence, subtly battle for their survival day after day. He simply hunkered there and the shadow of the enormous tree sheltered him from the seething and scorching heat. When he gaped at people buying food from the nearby vendor, his stomach crunched and ached in hunger. He could not conjure up when he last had a full meal.
I longed to feed him, clad him in neat clothes and foster him, not only because I despise poverty and such a rueful sight crushed my heart, but because to me he was a personification of the dreams I had conjured up as a child. My innocent dreams conceived at a tender age, dreams which had become dusty in the pursuit of erudition and other mundane and prosaic gains. I know not where these dreams originated from or how they thrived in my psyche. Forsaken dreams which I realize and apprehend once in a while but never had ample time to live them. Dreams, which like that little shabby boy, are squished under the impediments and onuses of life. My rearing may shade my dreams from the veracities of life, like the huge banyan tree, but it repudiates to provide a medium for their nourishment. My childhood dreams, clad in rags, plead in despair for diligence. I do not wish to renounce my worldly ties and bonds in the quest of my dreams, instead I pine to take a fleeting hiatus from life and live my dreams.

A Heavy Day

A few months ago when I was new in town, dejected and lonely, I ardently refused to blend into the new milieu. Instead I fiercely sought to reform it into the venerable one. Not that I am impervious to progress or transformation but I have issues in ceding perpetual bonds and attachments. Only one week into the new ‘Graduate Program’, I was still very nostalgic about my days in Bremen. Despite the amiability and compassion of my colleagues, I had retreated myself and thus failed to make new friends.
Therefore to put an end to my miseries, one fine Friday, I impulsively decided to drive across the country and gather some final moments at the place I considered home, some reminiscences with people I considered friends and in a more banal note, to collect most of my belongings which were still piled up in a basement somewhere there. So elated and thrilled I started off. I hauled the largest and most ponderous paraphernalia available in my vicinity. My rational cognition was overshadowed with the avarice for my material assets from which I had been apart for so long.
The outline of the high tower of the Interfaith house was prominently visible against the crimson sky, even before I had stepped into the premises. I arrived at dusk. The familiarity of the land and the fragrance in the wind pacified my soul. The warm welcome of my friends embellished my arrival. The following day was cast away in reunion with friends and acquaintances. Simultaneously I collected anything in the realm of my vision which I might need anytime in the future and shoved them into the gigantic bag I had yanked along. Greed, the worst vice ever, had overwhelmed me. I had traversed all limits of any kind of rational judgment, both about necessity as well as my physical capabilities. The evening was not too eventful, witnessed an overrated live romantic-tragic melodrama, went to a random birthday party, had a couple of beers and crashed on a couch. Early next morning, it was Sunday and time to get back to life. This historic day is an epic in itself which I shall repeat numerous times in my lifetime. But today is not the day. Today I shall recount the tale of the next day. Due to an unforeseen and inevitable catastrophe, my departure on that very day was impeded. The demise of my departure plans was an aftermath of my inefficient packing tragedy. As I believe in learning from my own lapses, I was more prudent and meticulous the next day. I abandoned all the additional pieces of luggage and jammed everything I could into my huge bag.
I promptly requested for an excuse from the lectures on Monday and arranged for another person to drive with the next day. The drive was quite serene which I mostly utilized to steal a short and halcyon nap. Just as we were approaching the outskirts of Stuttgart, the series of arduous and deplorable events commenced. The person I was driving with suddenly decided to drive upto the airport instead of the train station, as per our prior deal. The airport, although well connected to the city was completely unknown to me and in addition far far away from Tübingen. The only connection was a bus which I had no idea where to get from. So there I was, in the middle of nowhere dragging along a heinously colossal and overweight piece of luggage. Thanks to the high engineering skills and technical innovation of the German engineers and architects, the arrival and departure of not only the aircrafts but also the vehicles at the airport were in different levels of the building. Therefore I had to seek the assistance of an automated transporter called the elevator. Despite the fact that it was facing the entrance and was most conveniently situated, I managed to overlook it. Since I could not envision any typical stairways in this more-than-developed country, I opted for the escalator to get to the level below.
As I stood there perplexed and contemplating if at all it was a good idea, one of the wheels of the bag was on the escalator. In the fraction of a second when that enormous gear was being pulled down the awfully steep stairway, the consequences of if I would let go and the apocalyptic bag would be hurled down, flashed before my eyes. The children playing on the toy helicopter placed strategically beneath the escalator would be the first wallop. It was not a surge of clandestine magnanimity or valor but an urge of perseverance, of mere denial to dwindle, which reigned my mind. I held on with all my might, unaware of the fact that now I was on my knees, on the verge of being dragged down the stairway along the bag.
Entered my knight in shining armour and turned my grey world into a colourful one. A guy who abandoned his own luggage and rushed to my aid. He put me back on my feet and pulled up my gear too. By the time I revived my senses and turned around to express my gratitude, my philanthropic savior had already rushed away to catch his flight. Following this percussion, I promptly spotted the elevator right in front of me. Forsaking the past and towing the baneful bag along I finally reached the bus stop. Even though the bus was scheduled was leave 25 minutes later, once on the bus I was calm and relaxed. I placed my prodigious bag in the luggage corner of the high-tech German bus and sat down on the nearby seat.
As I was starting to doze off after the irksome and tedious journey, the bus engine kicked off. The soft purr of the engine was sheer music to my ears. Suddenly the least expected happened, as the bus drove across the winding hilly paths, the monstrous bag quavered in its spot and started drifting away towards the elderly man and the snobbish blond girl sitting right across. My hand reached out in time and grabbed the handle. Words shall fall short to describe that tableau. As the bus sped through the twisted and steep lanes, I grabbed onto the bag while it struggled like a wild beast under my hands to set itself free and cause havoc. Far from relaxation, I felt like a matador trying to conquer a vivacious beast. By the time I reached my destination, I was physically drained, my palms were a burning lilac and I looked so worn out and dishelmed that by standers merely stared at me in utter dismay. Male etiquette, the hallmark of this developed country, seemed alien on that very day. A country where men always hold the door open and pull the chairs for the ladies, no valiant passer by dared to offer any assistance in transporting the hefty and ponderous piece of luggage. Probably the sight of the ghastly beast was too petrifying for the by standers.
Then out of nowhere appeared this guy I knew from somewhere. I could not conjure up when or how we had met each other. In order to avoid any kind of conversation or eye contact that might lead to subsequent embarrassment, I gushed past him to get into the bus. It was evident that he had spotted me in the crowd, however contrary to my anticipation, he did not make an attempts to come to my aid.
Finally when I reached home, the last obstacle in my path was 500m steep ramp over which I had to haul the sinisterly corpulent bag. In this last moment of introspection, God bestowed his pity on me. I bumped into a colleague who although might not have been physically efficacious, but was prudent enough to help me in dragging the monstrous thing upto my apartment. The next morning I received a very intriguing email from the guy I ‘met’ at the bus stop, saying “I saw you in the bus yesterday. U didn’t look too good. Are you alright?” I was speechless. The audacity of the email stupefied me. In light of the etiquettes and social decorum followed in this country, such an incident is even more queer and surprising.
However on some days when the sun rises, it brings along more adversities and predicaments than others, and these turbulent times make us tenacious and abiding. Moreover I believe that when something happens, it happens for a reason. It is upto us to decipher the divine vestige.