It had rained dark grey last night. The skies had rumbled in appreciation as the drops had lashed on the glass panes. They bear scars still. Faint trails of where drops must have slid of to their deaths. I smiled slightly at a distance. Then controlled myself. The person sitting beside me on the bus was eyeing me curiously. I raised one eyebrow in an attempt to bring some seriousness back to my face and continued reading my book.
The bus was moving in a lulling pace. Most people were nodding off. The conductor was failing hard in attempting to control his temper. He had to ask everyone for the fare twice. I smiled sympathetically at him when he asked for mine. His face softened immediately. I gave myself a mental high-five before thanking him and counting the change.
I stepped off the bus and felt the ground beneath me growl a little. Must be a tram nearby. I didn't hear the bells though. Must be hallucinating. I tugged my earphones in and started walking again and kept my eyes on the ground while I took the footpath. I liked walking that way. It's a little game I like playing with myself. Predicting the movements of people around me. Try maintaining some distance from them their shadows. Before I knew, I had reached my destination. A warm smile greeted me.
"Dim-Toast", she said out loud. Smiling at me. "The rains aren't doing us any favour, are they? It's still boiling hot", she said while wiping drops of perspiration from her face using her pallu. She came from behind the little table where she was standing and started pulling a bench for me. I noticed that she was trying hard to keep it in much shade as possible. I intervened, "I am not feeling too hot. Let it be". She smiled again and went on to light the stove on the table.
Her husband appeared sheepishly a few minutes later and mumbled some apologetic words to her. She was trying to be angry with him but failing miserably. He had a playful smile on his face, he knew she would understand why he was not around. She tried saying gruffly to him, "You are never in sight whenever it's necessary, Didi is getting late for office. Hurry up." He looked at me and smiled and without a word started by picking a couple of eggs from a carton. I opened my newspaper and smiled wryly at the news on the front page.
I could hear the oil simmering and waited for the exact moment when the eggs would hit the pan and the delicious smell would waft to me. It did. Just as every time. I looked up and saw the man cutting vegetables religiously while she was washing some dishes. He put some bread on the half made egg now and I could feel my mouth water.
She handed him a dish and he deftly put the toast on the plate. He then started garnishing it with some pepper. In just the exact amount that I liked. I smiled at him widely while I took the plate for him. He spoke up finally, "You did not come for two days." I looked down. Almost guilty. She answered for me. Thankfully. "That's not a nice thing to say to anyone. Didi doesn't like eating the same thing everyday, isn't it right?", she looked at me. I nodded. "I got late the other day, so did not have time to stop by". An explanation was not exactly required of me. But I still did. Not knowing the reason why.
I wolfed down my breakfast in minimum time. They looked at me. Both of them. Satisfied that I have enjoyed the meal. I handed the plate back to them and paid them the money. Then stood up dusting my pants. It was getting late.
I sighed and started walking towards office.
The bus was moving in a lulling pace. Most people were nodding off. The conductor was failing hard in attempting to control his temper. He had to ask everyone for the fare twice. I smiled sympathetically at him when he asked for mine. His face softened immediately. I gave myself a mental high-five before thanking him and counting the change.
I stepped off the bus and felt the ground beneath me growl a little. Must be a tram nearby. I didn't hear the bells though. Must be hallucinating. I tugged my earphones in and started walking again and kept my eyes on the ground while I took the footpath. I liked walking that way. It's a little game I like playing with myself. Predicting the movements of people around me. Try maintaining some distance from them their shadows. Before I knew, I had reached my destination. A warm smile greeted me.
"Dim-Toast", she said out loud. Smiling at me. "The rains aren't doing us any favour, are they? It's still boiling hot", she said while wiping drops of perspiration from her face using her pallu. She came from behind the little table where she was standing and started pulling a bench for me. I noticed that she was trying hard to keep it in much shade as possible. I intervened, "I am not feeling too hot. Let it be". She smiled again and went on to light the stove on the table.
Her husband appeared sheepishly a few minutes later and mumbled some apologetic words to her. She was trying to be angry with him but failing miserably. He had a playful smile on his face, he knew she would understand why he was not around. She tried saying gruffly to him, "You are never in sight whenever it's necessary, Didi is getting late for office. Hurry up." He looked at me and smiled and without a word started by picking a couple of eggs from a carton. I opened my newspaper and smiled wryly at the news on the front page.
I could hear the oil simmering and waited for the exact moment when the eggs would hit the pan and the delicious smell would waft to me. It did. Just as every time. I looked up and saw the man cutting vegetables religiously while she was washing some dishes. He put some bread on the half made egg now and I could feel my mouth water.
She handed him a dish and he deftly put the toast on the plate. He then started garnishing it with some pepper. In just the exact amount that I liked. I smiled at him widely while I took the plate for him. He spoke up finally, "You did not come for two days." I looked down. Almost guilty. She answered for me. Thankfully. "That's not a nice thing to say to anyone. Didi doesn't like eating the same thing everyday, isn't it right?", she looked at me. I nodded. "I got late the other day, so did not have time to stop by". An explanation was not exactly required of me. But I still did. Not knowing the reason why.
I wolfed down my breakfast in minimum time. They looked at me. Both of them. Satisfied that I have enjoyed the meal. I handed the plate back to them and paid them the money. Then stood up dusting my pants. It was getting late.
I sighed and started walking towards office.
A very interesting juxtaposition of simplicity and lucidity, of small insignificant incidents in our lives and the stories entwined in between. What you have narrated is a very simple everyday snippet of a scene, yet at the heart of it, it is quite important...both to the narrator and I am sure to you.
ReplyDeleteIt is also interesting to note that what is mundane and everyday like is actually just another day, just another moment in someone's life. However, not here. Not in "Dim - Toast" because here it takes on a significant portion in a completely nonchalant and relaxed fashion. Even though you show impatience in your character (for example, the bus conductor), it all mellows out and it is quite smooth towards the end, where you, quite brilliantly, put in the little tinge that breaks the silent water layer and brings you to face what is everyday life, once again.
Altogether, nicely captured and well written. It is actually a little different from the usual writing, set during the day time or rather the beginning of the day (as opposed to say the end of the day) and you have managed to keep a simple lucidity that does have traces of anticipatory elements that are not met, thankfully. There are moments when one fears that it would take an almost conventional turn, and that there would be a major story around the corner (for example, a story about why the two days of absence made a difference in their lives...did they need money? Was it something else...?) but you answer the question very subtly by telling us that there is not always a story around the corner, and even if there is, it is not always made available to us. And that in itself is the story which you have painted here.
Good work!
Moments define the mood of a city ... this piece just touches one part of any such moments .. If Calcutta is a kaleidoscope, this be one of those glass-pieces. Brittle & colourful.
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