Interlude

It was seven pm in the evening. The weather-beaten collosal structures in kalaghoda region of Mumbai were looking alive with the intermittent monsoon showers. The aroma of steaks and kebabs wafting through the air was making the homebound office-goers' pace even faster. Hrishi was waiting for Kamalini at the lonely corner of the street, a little removed from the cacophony of life. He lit a cigarette, the excitement in his twenty-five year old heart was palpable.

"Hi honey! Have you been waiting long?" Kamalini enquired in her usual affable, loving tone. Her kind, compassionate, refined expression, energy and enthusiasm in her work, love for life made her look younger than her forty-years of existence. Her battered soul for the loss of her husband did not reflect on her face. Hrishi felt the strong urge to hold her tight and feel her soft lips.

A beautiful maiden is a frequent visitor in the dark recesses of human mind. She is very restless and does not like to reside in any place for long. She sometimes lingers in the chambers of sea, sometimes lurks in the dense, wild forest. She also dwells inside a flaming volcano or atop a snowy mountain peak. She sets the standard of right and wrong and calls herself 'Moral'. This exquisite creature trails the most mundane drawing-rooms, offices and conversations of human-beings.

It is passion that brought Moral to her dwelling at one end of the earth. Her cave dimly lit with an earthen lamp reveals her beautifully painted pots, door-gods on the alter, a garland of jasmine and burning incense, a weighing scale. Draped in a floral attire, Moral sits by the door and gazes at the vast rocky terrain outside, awaiting eagerly for her beloved, August.

For three years in Mumbai, Hrishi had wormed inside his cocoon- the comforts of his first job with its problems and solutions, the weekly trips to his brother and sister-in-law, settling down in a new house with a room-mate, spending time with colleagues, long-distance relationship and its demands. His sister-in-law pulled his leg, called him loner. "Any Tom, Dick and Harry cannot be a loner. You need to be talented to be that," he said.

Despite the solitude and an easy life, he had lost the ability to think. It was as if he was holding his life in his hands and let it flow.

The job at 'Matilda ad agency' was almost like a breather for him. Experience had taught him to face the eyes in office that would fix him with formulated phrase and judge him with his every action. The first brush with his senior Kamalini was in fact quite charming. It was his first day at his workplace and he was going to be evaluated on the basis of an assignment. Hrishi felt flustered, nervous like hell, failed to make head or tail of it.

"What happened Hrishi? You need help? Don't worry, pass me the copy," said a relaxed Kamalini. For the next few months, as he learnt the tricks of the trade, used his creativity to come up with interesting advertising campaigns, ideas, Kamalini always came to his rescue like an angel.

Slowly, Hrishi learnt about Kamalini's husband's sudden demise from other colleagues. Hrishi was struck by her enthusiasm, zest for work, intelligent mind and eccentricity. He started looking up to her and loved her unconditionally. Kamalini too loved him in return.

Kamalini started feeling immeasurably at peace and the world turned wonderful and youthful to her. Her inner desires buried long in dark corners received light.

Yet she did not want to mislead young and passionate soul of Hrishi. Her voice, like a sad, broken tune of a tanpura said, "I am sure you understand my feelings. I love you too. But I really do not have anything to give you apart from my friendship and professional help. I am a widow and at a mature stage in life. I do not want to hurt others in my family and nor in yours. You will always be part of my life and we will be best of friends. I know, you are strong and you can surely move on."

Days passed by, december night came, a slight nip in the air, a slight sensation of being ill at ease. "Finally with a person half your age," said one colleague; "What is the extent of involvement of you guys," said another colleague with a smirk. Its always the wretched lot of women who have to face the music.

Kamalini kept her countenance, remained self-possessed, except when a television, mechanical and tired, reiterated some worn-out, common song or the frangrance of wild flowers across the garden, all whispering the things that other people have desired. And on such days, she asked the divine being whether her ideas are right or wrong.

Kamalini could sense a change in the behavior of her colleagues. On certain occasions, she overheard hushed conversations about them, laughter, gossips, attempts to eavesdrop into her conversations with Hrishi, calling her 'mean, amoral'.

As people were celebrating news of Kamalini's affair, condemning her for not adhering to socially acceptable drawing room rules, on another part of the universe Moral was making love with her August under the starry sky. Her passion and impulse is unparalleled- August looked puny and frail beside her. She is the mistress of all desires. She is in charge of the mind and body of the vulnerable beings of the planet. She is the queen in the hearts of those who live suppressed lives, do not give a vent to their feelings and people who are constrained by the hopes and opinions of others.

Moral changes shape every hour, finds new expressions, dances like a peacock, cries like a mermaid, chatters like an ape and soaks in the essence of life in a tobacco trance.

Meghna Maiti

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