THE NEW AFFAIR
It was one of those evenings when you feel you are a part of a beautiful landscape by a romantic artist. The colour of the sky was deep orange in the zenith and gradually changing to dark blue and finally setting to black at the horizon. Cool evening breeze of ending October was indicating a change in weather. The evening blues were further exhilarated by the pale orange tint in the atmosphere and it all summed up to make the evening serene. Ranveer Singh was sitting in the veranda of his house, enjoying this beautiful evening which was entrapping him in a philosophical solace. He even thought of cancelling the customary weekly get together with his friends. At the age of 67, getting dressed and then driving for the next 45 minutes seems like a tedious task that too when he was having a good time in his own company. But the thought of the whole week ahead of him full of this blissful solace made him decide to go. It had been eight weeks now when Ranveer understood the meaning of the word alone. Eight weeks ago Mandira, his wife succumbed to death after eleven days of coma caused by a rather shocking haemorrhage, as even at the age of 66 she had maintained a good health. Opposed to everyone’s belief even that period of eleven days could not prepare Ranveer for losing the only person he knew through and through in this whole wide world, the only one that mattered. He quickly got dressed in a black shirt and grey trousers without looking much into the mirror; a habit he got rid of almost a decade ago. Nowadays he didn’t even care much about the cleanliness of the plates of his turban as now there isn’t a reflection smiling in the mirror, in awe. She used look at him with a coy smile like a teenage fan looks at her favourite superstar, it always made him feel that way. He wanted to get to his destination before all those headlights will start screaming bloody murder in his face, mocking him of the cataract in his right eye.
When he reached Adil Hussain’s farm house at around 7:30 pm which was half an hour late than the scheduled time, all three of his friends were already there. Adil’s farmhouse spread over an acre of land with an organic farm which was Adil’s pursuit after retiring as a public prosecutor from state high court. Rajneesh Sethi was a retired history professor and a published historian, a 68 years old avid yoga practitioner who looked almost 10 years younger than his age and the only one in the group without any serious medical condition, Sumeet Sharma, editor of a lifestyle magazine which was one of the magazines for which Ranveer wrote a column twice a month. As Ranveer was late, the drinks session and political blabber had already begun. This was the only day in the week when they left their health issues aside and allowed themselves a few indulgences of alcohol, smokes, fried snacks and a delicacy superior to all, the sweet nostalgia. They all reminisced over how they have achieved and done so much yet a few things would have and should have been done differently and the evening was incomplete without “in-our-day” and “those-were-the-days” talks.
“That statement was totally uncalled for; rather it was totally against parliamentary ethics. You expect more concern by the Foreign Minister at least”. Rajneesh’s statement got concerned affirmation by Adil and Sumeet, “What do you make of it Ranveer?” “Don’t ask this anarchist” Adil interrupted Rajneesh.I Rajneesh asked with concern.
“More of a political apostate, plus at this age I can hardly care. I have seen some ten PMs in my lifetime and of every kind socialist, rightist, leftist and whatnot, they can hardly ever leave the political circumference setup by their party’s ideology and this never brings any drastic positive change. So honestly a discussion about our impending surgeries and how to tackle them would be much more beneficial.” The topic then shifted to health for a while and later moved to children and grandchildren, another alien topic to Ranveer as he and Mandira never bore any child, a conscious decision which neither of them ever regretted.
As the evening went along, they all got more involved in their chats but nothing could amuse Ranveer after a point, he wasn’t able to pay attention no matter how much he wanted. It has been around eight weeks since Mandira passed away but he was stuck in that moment, holding on to it tightly. Every now and then someone from the group would mention something mildly related to some incident, some anecdote which they both shared and Ranveer would start playing that again and again in his head. Those were the places in his mind where he could happily get lost, if only there was no way to get back to reality from there. Even his friends knew that he wasn’t there with them and that there voice takes him back to his cafe, which was a happy place that used to host many of their get-togethers. How Adil and everybody else used to deeply indulge into political debates, when they all were young and socialism was sprouting in the country like a wild weed. Although Ranveer and Mandira were also ardent supporters of JP movement and even feared arrest during emergency, still sometime when the hot headed Adil used to motivate a group of young, well educated, upper class boys and girls about how this dynasty rule is destroying the democratic fabric one knit at a time, Ranveer and Mandira had their own conversation going on only through precise eye contacts and slight tilts of their heads, they loved to mock others and no one ever caught them doing this. From the time when it was temporarily shut during emergency to becoming their unofficial arthritis club, that cafe has seen many seasons. Soon as the ceremonial mourn of Mandira was over, Ranveer sold their cafe. It was a dream he and Mandira saw together 43 years ago and now without her it was time to wake up from it.
With night turning on its full charm, their conversations also got deeper and out of nowhere Sumeet started speaking morbidly, “and when I once began to think, all we have been doing is living in tomorrow, for a better future, a secure tomorrow, but what is tomorrow? Have you ever thought? I guess all that we do is leading a life preparing for a good, comfortable death” “well, that is very cynical. We owe death a life. I read it in a novel and it is a very apt statement I believe. “ Adil said ,”No, no, no, Adil sir you are sugar coating it now, no I am telling you sir you are sugar coating it” Rajneesh added, “Sethi saab Sumeet Ji is getting morbid. He is clearly getting morbid, it is but natural to think about death, I mean it is all right totally, but I am telling he is getting this, what I was saying..,, yes morbid.” Clearly each one of them was in high spirits now. “Everybody is morbid at this age Adil saab, we all think of a peaceful death sir, I mean I don’t care much about death personally, but everybody thinks of a way considering their ailments, which would be perfect for them, am I wrong Singh saab, no tell me if I am wrong” Sumeet now directed the pointer towards Ranveer. “Well, yes I always had one”. Ranveer paused for a second then said, “I just wanted to go before Mandira in her arms and if possible I wanted to make love to her one last time, even if that meant using a whole bottle of Viagra, but well that’s not going to happen so all I wish for is that all the stories of an eternal afterlife to be true, where I can meet her again” Ranveer had a lump in his throat while saying it and gulped it down immediately with a drink. Everybody noticed it and there was silence all around when Adil decided to break the tension, “Sorry for being insensitive but all this talk of sex and Viagra is making me miss my wife, so let’s have dinner so that I can go back to her?”
Soon as Ranveer reached back home, he changed his clothes hurriedly and went straight to bed, he didn’t want to lose the buzz of the drinks which can turn into a sound sleep as it was very rare these days. He did go to sleep almost instantly after getting into the bed. In deep, blissful sleep when he had one of his recurring nightmares, in which he enters a tunnel in quest of something and gets stuck in a dark tight cave, which could hardly fit him in. It is very dark and cold and very less oxygen, suddenly water starts to fill up cave and he is running out of breath. The claustrophobia of dream was so ardent that he was actually in sweats with breathlessness. He was awake in the middle of the night feeling lost and out of place, unable to figure out where he was and what was his relationship with his surroundings. When he turned right, he found a pillow and empty side of bed staring at him; it was very strange not seeing his wife there and feeling so alone in the middle of the night. Earlier also he used to get up in the middle of the night by nightmares like this one and used to find Mandira deep asleep, he used to slowly lift her arm and slide close to her, resting his head on her chest and she would wrap her arms around him and pat him subconsciously, it would be a little hard for Ranveer to breath because of his lifelong nasal trouble but he felt peace there, in her arms it was safe and comfortable. As he was thinking about this, he started feeling her presence there, it was very dark in the room and his vision was compromised in the right eye, but still it felt like the pillow and mattress had a bump of a human shape, rather Mandira’s body. He could sense her there right next to him, and when he slid a bit, he was able to hear her breathing heavily. He was still in the lost state of the hangover of sleep but he didn’t make any effort to attain consciousness, he wanted to go ahead with this peculiar experience. In a space between reality and imagination, he clearly started smelling her body odour in the air, which was a mix of Mandira’s natural body smell and her favourite fragrance. He slid as close to this mirage right next to him as much possible, without making any physical contact of course, he couldn’t afford to break the bubble. The moment he closed his eyes he felt a light weight on himself, it made his heart pound faster than ever, it was intangible and light but something real and he forced his conscious to sleep. He was so excited, it broke his heart.
The next morning when he woke up from a very disturbed sleep, he found his pillow wet with tears. He was heavy headed and aching back. No bump was there next to him and no weight on his body. Then he took a deep breath, her fragrance was still there and it grew more and more prominent each time he would breathe in. He got up, went to the bathroom, washed his face and came back to his bed and again, he could smell her, even stronger than before. Ranveer just stayed there trying to figure out whether he should cherish or be worried about this new affair.
About the Author:
The writer, Navjyot Singh is an architect by professional training but a writer by spirit. The writer enjoys writing in both the formats of fiction and non-fiction and has been writing since school and college days. An active blogger, the writer chooses to blog about various topics like films, literature, politics, human behaviour and aspirations and has also been published with the leading English newspaper of Jammu “Daily Excelsior”. Being born and brought up in Jammu and Kashmir has made the writer sensitive about certain issue and relish the multi-cultural milieu of the state.