the 'Fist' & the 'Pacifist'

Monday, March 06, 2006

Its getting crowded, lets get out of here...

One can make a career out of looking at the side mirror. The apparition of having moved on and the free will of backing up.

Sitting on a highway sipping a cold drink, she stuck to coffee. Coffee in a decorated khullar, promising to make the experience somehow "more ethnic".

I had never spoken about him, but the side mirror gazing brought it all back. His father was a forest official, who after spending decades in the Madumali forest reserve had been recently transferred to the Indo Bhutan border. We made plans - he would stop over at Calcutta and we would go up to the forest. Shack up at a forest bungalow. Wear round hats and drink whisky till we pass out on the reclining chairs. Listen to "Coming back to life...", in the death of the forest.

I went home soon after, for my twenty day vacation. When I returned, I heard the news from my roommate. He had died on the way to the hospital. The accident happened on the highway; they had to bring him to the hospital in a public bus. His mangled leg, bloody temple, blood squirting through his open mouth as he tried to speak. The bus stood at a traffic light waiting for green.

We placed his body in a coffin, packed it with salt and ice. Sprinkled mint leaves. He lay there oblivious of it all; a life not yet begun, of plans which would remain just that.

I sipped the cold drink which now felt warm and syrupy, cars and bikes had lined up by the shop. Din and bustle. Oily snacks and sweet coffee. Noise and Laughter.

"Its getting crowded, lets get out of here...", she said.

I started the ignition, that's probably what he had said too.

Labels: Moments and Memories

2 Comments:

Anonymous said... On Thursday, March 09, 2006 2:15:00 pm

Nice Post! Hits hard subtely
:-)
Raagini

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