Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Sayontoni woke up earlier than usual. The morning suddenly felt oppressive, sweat on her neck and arms settled on the linen. She shook of the sheet, but that wasn’t enough. She unfastened the window, it recoiled slowly, allowing the freshness of the morning to float in. The breeze dispelling the staleness of the night.
The freshness of the morning, the glow of the sun still low in the sky, the ample shadow of the bamboo groove across the garden fused with the smell of the earth fresh with rain.
It was the twenty-seventh and Ashim must have arrived a few hours earlier. A glow seemed to spread from her face into the air around her. She caught the smile on her face and felt silly. Her stretched limbs cocooned in the softness of her bed linen, her toes touched the wrought iron bedpost and immediately she felt tingled by its coolness. The coolness against the warmth of her skin; gingerly she placed the flat of her foot on the wrought iron. The chill on her skin, amidst the dispersing warmth of the room. She thought of Ashim, the last time he was here and the first time she had made love.
The lakes looked pretty when the rains came, the dust and grime of the city washed by the first drops of rains. He had touched her on the shoulder and she had turned to see his face ablaze. The warmth of his breath filled the taxi like a cloud. She turned into his arms feeling warm, scared and fitful. The windows - patterns of rivulets, clear streaks on an obscure slate. He had clutched her close.
She opened her eyes, feeling that restlessness again, not for what was to transpire, but for what had. She buried her face in the uneven softness of the pillow. She didn’t see the rain pelting down on the lakes anymore. The moment from a few months ago had dissolved into now.
Her shuteyes saw flashes, images running in a cinemascope gone awry. The denim of his trousers, trepidation and felicity as she had held him with her half cupped hands. He had gone weak, his head falling back on to the rexene headrest. The rear view mirror, her navy blue t-shirt clumped like a crutch under her arms, Ashim's head on her shoulder and under her chin. The gaze of her eyes in the mirror, at once both the object and the image, linked by time, space and action, but incongruous in every way else.
Her temples ached, she took a deep breath. Her mind was in turmoil, a canvas of random feelings. The exhilaration of a fair ride and the despondency of a long journey.
Labels: Fiction
