Page..24.
Destiny.
The Star Dust reporter felt that the Man had a love-affair.
All is news for her that is fit to print for her magazine, the Star Dust.
The Star Dust magazine is the carrier of scandals and spicy news items.
The reporter caught the whiff of smell of love news in one of his following
quotes in his blog. She tried to get a story from him but she failed.
She kept all her options open. She is a veteran. She do not let go easily.
He met with a piece, one he had not dreamt of.
At a friend’s villa in Manali he saw her.
It was at a family-supper that he attended.
He was not keen to go but his friend dragged him.
The place was the Military Cantonment Bungalows.
The host was the captain of the army.
She was the hostess.
There were no other women present except her.
The three trio were made to sit in the patio for drinks.
Then they entered the dining room.
She was slender, silken hair, the hair plucked back from
the natural hairline of the eye-brow as the fashion goes.
She moved with a delicate sensuousness, every slight rhythm of the
arm and shoulder and the leg as smooth as music.
It was pleasurable. She appeared to be one of those rare
creatures whose every breath was made for love.
Sketching her frame in her mind, he found a wholeness in her.
There was an undulant softness of manner, voice gesture, motion.
From the beauty of neck and shoulder and bosom, she was an
artist’s imagination of painting her as the female-nude; not to love,
but to paint. She had much of her loveliness resembling a
Fairy lost her way from Heaven. Her face was rarest of rare.
She was unlike any woman he had ever seen.
He was all through out the dinner aware of her not merely
through his eyes but through every pore and part of his body.
Her presence in the room before she moved or said a word of mouth,
sent his blood pounding through his veins, shot his back and the
shoulders upwards, thrust his pelvic structure alive with new life.
In short, she was love in its ultimate form.
Her welcoming smile for him had encouraged him.
In fact she liked company of men-not any one in particular.
Her movement had a captivating grace and it was a delight to see.
Though an inner drum was pounding in his ears, he heard
the soft music of her voice that shocked him to intense awareness.
After dinner while the two others were involved in some serious talk,
his legs involuntarily moved in the inner room.
In spite of his protestations that he had no interest in the female form,
that he found no excitement worthy of painting, he could not tear
his eyes away from her bodice clothed in a fine woven silk which
accomplished the harrowing miracle of seeming to expose her breasts
while at the same time keeping them under cover.
The harder he looked, the less he could actually see, for he was confronted by
a masterpiece of the dressmaker’s art, designed to excite and intrigue,
yet reveal nothing beyond a suspicion of white doves nestling.
She was amused at his interest in her.
She: “Are you an artist? “You look like one.”
She: “A music-man?”
He: “I am a painter.”
He: “I do off-hand landscapes.”
She: “Will you paint me in your style?”
He: “You are already a painted picture of natural beauty.”
He: “I have not the ability to reproduce your grace charm
and beauty by my brush.”
They laughed together. They leaned towards each other.
He: “Will I see you again?”
She: “If the Captain invites you.”
He: “Not otherwise?”
Her lips parted in a smile.
She: “Is it that you wish me to pose for you?”
She laughed heartily.
Her movements tightened the net over her bosom.
Once again, he found himself watching the lovely shapes beneath her bodice.
It was a nice evening.
That night he writhed in fever.
He found himself turning and twisting in an effort to bury his face
between her breasts, he realised what had happened to him.
He was incapable to stop the burrowing in the pillows.
He was hit with a Thunder Bolt.
The next day he passed her in the Market, the street of clothes and drapes
with an older woman. She was wearing a wreath of flower-garland
through her hair and moved in the crowded street with the same effortless ease
and comfort.
She bowed and smiled slightly and walked on leaving him
standing there rooted to the brick pavement.
That night when again he could not sleep, he began to write on a plane paper.
The
“What joy hath you glad wreath of flowers that is
Around her shining hair so deftly twined,
Each blossom pressing forward from behind,
As though to be the first her brows to kiss,
The livelong day her dress hath perfect bliss,
That now reveals her breast, now seems to bind,
And that fair woven net of gold refined
Rests on her cheek and throat in happiness.
Yet still more blissful seems to me the band,
Gilt at the tips so sweetly doth its ring,
And clasp the bosom that it serves to lace.
Yes, and the belt to such as understand,
Bound round her waist sayeth,
”Here I would ever cling!”
What would my arms do in that girdle’s place?”
He suspected that this was not the kind of sonnet that did justice to her,
yet it cooled him down, and he returned to his bed and slept.
A few days after, as luck would have it, he happened to be
invited to the same place. She sat alone before the window
involved in her own thoughts.
He watched her face in the deem light, the features so fragile,
yet with such implicit passion.
She: “It is pleasant to talk to someone of my taste to talk to.” she said.
He: “You do not have friends?” he asked her.
She: “Not any more, but I am happy the way the things are.”
He: “I don’t know miss, but you seem to be out of my quarter.”
She: “Just what is your quarter, besides sculpture as you said once?”
He: “Poetry.” He tendered a soft smile.
He: “It cost me two night’s sleep before I could reduce it in writing.”
She: “You wrote a sonnet for me? For me only?”
She: “Could I hear it?
He flushed.
He: “I will bring a copy sometime. You can read it in privacy.”
She: “Why are you so embarrassed?”
She: “It is good to be desired by some one like you.”
She: “I take it as a compliment.”
He cast his eyes down. How could he confess that he was new to this sort of game!”
“How could he explain the fires burning in his loins?”
He looked up. He found her eyes on him. She had read his feelings.
She put her hand in his, studied his flushed face. These moments of perception
changed their relationship.
She: “Have you ever been in love?”
He: “……..I have not been lucky.”
She: “Her body stirred in her gown causing a tremor.”
She: “We are two friends and like each other, why should not want each other?”
His feverish frame was no longer content to nestle his face between her breasts,
now he was pulsating to enter all the way. He kept hearing her words over and over
and again and again in the darkness of the place with an unbearable urgency.
No sooner he reached home, he took out pen and paper to write scraps, phrases
lines as they came tumbling into his head.
“Kind to the World but to itself unkind,
A worm is born, that dying noiselessly,
Despoils itself to clothe fair limbs and he,
In its true worth by death alone divined,
Oh, would that I might die for her to find,
Raiment in my outworn mortality!
That changing like the snake, I might be free,
To cast the slough wherein I dwell confined!
Nay were it mine, that shaggy fleece that stays,
Woven and wrought into a vestment fair,
Around her beauteous bosom in such bliss,!
Although the day she would clasp me, would I were
The shoes that bear her burden! When the ways
Were wet with rain, her feet I should then kiss!”
After a few days he again visited the place. But he did not see her.
The scene had changed. The captain’s wife and children had arrived and the
house was full of family humdrum and noise. But not her.
Alarmed and afraid, he left abruptly under an excuse of being late and all that,
His feet carried him swiftly up to the road to her villa. He did not know what he
would do once he got there. What he would say how he would explain when some one
of her family might open the gate for her. Trembling himself, he half walked,
half ran up to the foothill road.
The front gate was unbolted. He went to the front door, knocked again and again.
Just as he was beginning to think that none was home, and that he had acted stupidly,
the door opened a crack. She stood attired in a loose gown, her hair hanging down her back, without cosmetics or jewels smelling of shampoo and her face looked to him
more beautiful, her body more desirable because it was unornamented.
He stepped inside the door. There was no sound in the house. She closed and bolted the door. Then they were in a passionate embrace, their bodies merging knee to knee,
breasts to chest, their mouths moist and sweet, glued and drinking each other’s saliva,
and their arms with the power of unquenchable vigour and urgency crushing each
other in a total pulsating time and place embrace.
She led him to her bedroom. She had nothing on beneath the robe.
Her slender body, the red pointed breasts the grey Mount of Venus were
as if his eyes had known them all along, a full female made for love.
It was like penetrating into a wet valley of love which opened up to its full
like a balloon opening up to receive him in an urgent welcome and he felt his thrust
entering in a warm channel of bliss and happiness waiting eagerly to bathe him
with her thin liquid surface, penetrating deeper and deeper until he reached
the explosive climax and all of his fluid strength, love, passion, desire, got poured
into her, made to love the hand of the true companion he felt proud for life,
had responded likewise with equal vigour and eagerness to swallow each drop of his
energy into her.
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“She is so lovely, when she laughs! When she looks with her eye-balls up in the sky, I am sure she is dazed of me. She is such a darling and so good! She is happy and surprised that I am not a bit superficial as I look. She must have grown to love me as a friend. That is enough for the time being. I have just jotted down whatever came to my mind. I have the feeling that she and me share a secret. We look at each other only when mother is not around. In mother's presence we do not know each other. If she looks at me with those eyes which wink and laugh, a little light lights within me giving me happiness. I hope it remains like this forever. There must be something she has guessed about me. She certainly can not love me as I appear. She does not know the inner me. I doubt if she is able to look beyond and penetrate the concrete-armour I am wearing to project a different self to the world. Will she ever reach there? It is said love often springs from pity. Will it happen? No I don't love her. I only want to talk to her and pass my time. Mother thinks that she is in love with me. She also says that she keeps on looking at me." " I am in a very difficult position. Mother is against me. She is against her. But I am not against her. I don't know of her. But she closes her eyes not to see the silent battle between mother and me. Luckily I am quite used to hiding my feelings. I manage myself well not to reveal my inner feelings about anything to anyone. She does not understand us. We are happy just sitting together and not uttering a word. When she lies with her arm under her head, as if sleeping, she looks like a child. When she plays with the pet, she is lovely sight to see. When she plays the shots on the field, she looks full of stuff and energy.”
“When she is plucking the roses or running in the forest after the pet animals, then she is live. When she is so awkward and clumsy with mother, she is a darling. Of the numberless steps to my heart perhaps she climbed one or two.”
Today, She was alone.
It was late evening.
She had a hectic day at the Studio.
She was on her chair making efforts to locate her message-board.
She tried to decide what action to take about her personal affair.
The breeze from the river-front coming through the open window was refreshing.
As she rolled her chair here and there aimlessly not knowing what
she wanted or what course of action she liked to take about her path in life,
she sat still statue doing nothing in the end, her mind working in all sides in turmoil.
It was hard to imagine a famous small screen-TV star, as she was, caught
in such an embarrassing situation helplessly involved in future course of action about
her life. Generally Mary the companion cum secretary used to be with her.
Today she was detained at a social gathering and being alone gave her a
chance to think about her personal course of action at the cross-roads of
her career on the one side and her love for him on the other, and decide about her personal choice about them.
Most girls experience such a stage in life after the age of puberty.
She had not allowed physical demands to interfere with her progress
in life. She had mercilessly killed her feelings dreams about love affection
and all these things in pursuit of her profession. She had not experienced
the mental agony and pain a girl feels when she sheds her childhood life
and enters a stage of life, a damsel in demand by all and sundry and ultimately
confronted to be a victim through the process of womanhood.
After College days, after her performance in College-dramas and her
bright record at the dance academy, Z-TV engaged her as their anchor
interviewing famous Film-Stars and world dignitaries.
She was the host of many popular serials and TV shows which were
famous and rated as first class with five stars.
Her charisma was so captivating that she had been nick-named as Venus, an incarnation of modern age Venus.
She had never entered into the dirty lane of scandals to her name.
She had remained normal healthy young damsel with no health problems
like acne, weight-gain or any other disease and she was never at the mercy of the Fate.
It appeared she was born as one of the luckiest persons on the Earth.
Everything had come to her naturally without asking and in due course of time
without any toil or tears.
She had wonderful parents and a loving younger brother who worshipped her
as an image of idol for him in his life. This encouraged her in every walk of life.
They adored her beauty and did everything in their power to educate her Mind.
It was during her studies in the college that she got acquainted with Him.
It happened the way it happens to all girls. No is no negative to a girl.
She never wanted to involve with any one emotionally or physically.
But it happened naturally and normally without her knowing that she
was in the midst of cross-roads tonight serious about making a choice
between him and her career and profession.
He had a manly and dominating personality.
He could not be called quite handsome.
He could not be called ugly or bad looking.
He was the best orator and a good student of human psychology.
During the rehearsals of the college-celebration function, she came in
touch with him during the rehearsals of the English Shakespearian one piece
of Merchant of
immortalised herself in this difficult task for her memorable performance.
Ultimately it happened as it happens with everyone. She fell in love with him.
He was few years her older. He was the student’s leader in the University and all other colleges in the university campus.
He was from the family class of teachers and professors who had devoted their life
in the field of education. The family had a name in the social circle as public workers.
Both got attracted to one another like a magnet attracts a pin. Their attraction was real.
After graduation and also a law degree, He had joined the law offices of Homi-Wadia & Sons. Here he gained experience and maturity about legal aspects of life. He worked very hard. He projected himself as an authority on the intricate subject of Human Relations and Family matters and family problems and disputes.
He also worked as an advisor and legal representative of film TV actors including her.
They were friends but whispering tongues poisoned the truth.
People said many things about him.
No one could say that he was not handsome.
He was tall slender and graceful.
He had a sort of an animal type of grace that attracted the ladies despite their unwillingness to involve in any relationship. He had a seductive youthfulness.
He was a flatterer. He had the inborn quality to make out tales after tales which the ladies liked to hear him narrate again and again.
He often wondered how people swallowed his crap, and how he managed to escape himself unchallenged. He simply had no idea.
It was luck or his instinct to make the right acquaintance at the right time, and make exit at the right time.
His gestures were calculated with mathematical precision and his every smile wink handshake were well rehearsed. He had the knack to find out the families who would be useful. She felt deep pity for him She saw him as a helpless captive in the hands of religion.
She also felt something else. She could not explain. It was an impulse but she experienced a physical need to touch him. This urge was so strong that when she spoke to him, She pat him on his hand or put her hand on his thigh etc.
Such innocent gestures very deeply kept him disturbed. Something really tangible happened. He had finished his routine work and was about to retire to his place.
She crossed the path and stood invitingly mocking.
She was absorbed in her game but at ease as she had seen him completing his outdoor job and returning on break for rest and lunch. She laid her hand on his shoulder dragging him near as if she intended to reveal a secret. He listened. Both, thereafter, with their hands entangled, departed towards his room on the top of the mansion. His hand came to rest on her shoulder. It moved down her back. She felt it went still deeper. She had a jittering of her body unknown to her. It came with an intensity which she never knew it was possible. It had lasted about a minute. It was total. It was so full and all-encompassing that it had an effect of an explosion she felt for all the time, she had lived and of all the years yet to be lived.
Now she was certain God existed. Now she could die without regret.
There are two tragedy in life.
One is not to get your Heart’s desire.
The other one is to get the Heart’s desire and feel still unhappy.
On his part, he was torn into two.
He was a victim of his own ego.
A life time of happiness, no man alive could bear it.
It would be Hell on Earth.
The local gossip paper reporter was after him to have a sensational story out of him.
He had evaded all his questions in a go to hell devil may care free attitude.
But the reporter had a smell of a scandal and was waiting to pounce on him.
News like squirrels run faster and faster once they are in black and white.
It is Star Dust reporter’s job to print scandals and raise hell.
She exacted an interview with him which revealed some vague hints but nothing
substantial. Some progress was done but much more was required to be followed.
Man can climb to the highest summit but he can not dwell there long enough.
He thinks he is moral in the midst of an immoral circle of society in which we have to live. He has to deal with people whose business is over ladies to lean and flirt
and stare and simper in the name of shooting film shots for serials and luring teenage nymphets to do what generally they would not want to do.
An Interview.
Question. Hi long time no see?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. Where you been?
My answer. Moving.
Question. Did U find Valentine?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. In
My answer. Here.
Question. Here? where?
My answer. Here.
Question. Where she live?
My answer. Here.
Question. Address.
My answer. Ashram.
Question. Ashram? U kidding.
My answer. Near Ashram.
Question. Which?
My answer. Near Bank.
Question. Bank where?
My answer. Bank there.
Question. More details.
My answer. Mehbuba’s lane.
Question. Fixed?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. What is this sort of?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. Fix 100%?
My answer. Fix on my part.
Question. She agreed?
My answer. I don’t know.
Question. Then how U say fix?
My answer. 50% fix.
Question. Now 50%?
My answer. 100% fix on my part.
Question. What of her?
My answer. I don’t know.
Question. Really U got hit?
My answer. Like Thunderbolt hit.
Question. Both roamed together?
My answer. In dream.
Question. Then what U see?
My answer. A glimpse?
Question. That’s all?
My answer. That’s all.
Question. U settled in a glimpse?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. R U Crazy?
My answer. Mad very mad in love.
Question. But when you knew her?
My answer. Before years.
Question. Years?
My answer. Years.
Question. One?
My answer. No.
Question. Two?
My answer. No.
Question. Five?
My answer. No.
Question. Ten?
My answer. No.
Question. Twenty?
My answer. sort of.
Question. Where U spot her?
My answer. Here.
Question. Here where?
My answer. Here.
Question. Must be a place no?
My answer. It is a place.
Question. What place?
My answer. Old building.
Question. Old building where?
My answer. Old building here.
Question. On CG road?
My answer. Near to it. sort of.
Question. Is it a house?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. Is she living in it?
My answer. No.
Question. What she doing.?
My answer. Attending.
Question. What attending?
My answer. Attending her profession.
Question. Where was She?
My answer. In the big Hall.
Question. Big Hall?
My answer. Yes. Big Hall.
Question. What is big Hall?
My answer. Big hall is big Hall.
Question. Must be Sports Club.
My answer. No.
Question. No?
My answer. Yes. No.
Question. Dinesh Hall?
My answer. No.
Question. Premabhai Hall?
My answer. Big Hall.
Question. Let it pass.
My answer. U were almost there.
Question. What was she doing?
My answer. Sitting.
Question. Sitting where? On what?
My answer. Sitting.
Question. On chair?
My answer no.
Question. Sofa?
My answer. No.
Question. Then on what?
My answer. She was sitting.
Question. Yes, on ground.
My answer. No.
Question. Alright let it pass.
My answer. U were almost there.
Question. What were U doing?
My answer. I entered.
Question. What U did?
My answer. I found a vacant place.
Question. Where?
My answer. Besides her.
Question. Side by side?
My answer. No. sort of.
Question. No and sort of? What is this?
My answer. It is this.
Question. U sit on chair?
My answer. No.
Question. U standing?
My answer. No.
Question. Then U sitting where?
My answer. Near her.
Question. Side by side?
My answer. No.
Question. Behind her?
My answer. No.
Question. In front of her?
My answer. No.
Question. For God’s sake, where?
My answer. Adjacent to her.
Question. Let it pass.
My answer. U were almost there.
Question. What U did?
My answer. I sat.
Question. What U were doing?
My answer. Attending. Listening.
Question. Then?
My answer. I side-glanced.
Question. Then?
My answer. I looked on my side.
Question when?
My answer. After a while.
Question. How long?
My answer. After I had settled.
Question. Then?
My answer. I saw a loveliest glimpse of face.
Question. Then?
My answer. Shocked and nervous I moved my head.
Question. Did she know?
My answer. Of course.
Question. U moved head, Where?
My answer. I looked straight.
Question. Straight where?
My answer. Straight there where I had to.
Question. Then?
My answer. Nervous, I again glanced at her feet.
Question. Then?
Question. Did she know?
My answer. Of course.
Question. What she do?
My answer. She moved her foot.
Question. Then?
My answer. I stared there.
Question. You made a pass?
My answer. Sort of
Question. Did she know?
My answer. Yes.
Question. Then?
My answer. She was shocked.
Question. Then?
My answer. She went red.
Question. Then?
My answer. She moved her foot.
Question. Then?
My answer. I stared and stared.
Question Then?
My answer. She showed her sandal.
Question. Then?
My answer. She raised her foot again and again.
Question. Then?
My answer. I stared at her lovely ankle.
Question. Then?
My answer. She removed sandal.
Question. How?
My answer. I don’t know.
Question. Then?
My answer. I saw her bare foot.
Question. Then?
My answer. Pointed at sandal with her foot thumb.
Question. Then?
My answer. I did not understand.
Question. Then?
My answer. Again pointed at the sandal.
Question. Was it a message?
My answer. Yes. I did not know then.
Question. Then?
My answer. At first I did not follow.
Question. Then?
My answer. Light dawned in me.
Question. Then?
My answer. I withdrew.
Question. Then?
My answer. I sat still.
Question. Was she angry?
My answer. She had gone red.
Question Did she slap U?
My answer. She would have.
Question. What you mean?
My answer. She could not.
Question. Then?
My answer. I sat still. Statue.
Question. Then?
My answer. I was nervous.
Question. Then?
My answer. I listened.
Question. What she did?
My answer. She was listening attentively.
Question. Which is this place?
My answer. The Big Hall.
Question. Big Hall where?
My answer. In
Question. What was time.
My answer. Morning.
Question. Cultural function in morning?
My answer. It was not cultural function.
Question. Then what was it?
My answer. It is attending.
Question. What was time?
My answer. 11.30.
Question. What you did?
My answer. I sat statue.
Question. How long?
My answer. Quite long.
Question. Was there audience?
My answer. It is attendance.
Question. How many?
My answer. Many.
Question. Ten?
My answer. No
Question. Then how many? Hundred?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. How long U sit statue?
My answer. Quite long.
Question. One hour?
My answer. No.
Question. Two?
My answer. Sort of.
Question. Let it pass.
My answer. U were almost there.
Question. Tell her name.
My answer. Anamika.
Question. Her Real Name.
My answer. It is all imagination.
Question. My God! All this Fiction?
My answer. As U like it.
Her thick, wavy, long black hair gracefully falls down
to her shoulders and encircles her oval-shaped face.
A golden suntan usually brings out her smooth,
clear complexion and high cheek bones.
Her slightly arched brown eyebrows highlight her emotions
by moving up and down as she reacts to her world around her.
Her large deep eyes, remind me of a lake on a stormy day.
Her curved nose gives her, a little girl’s look that makes
me want to smile when she talks.
And her mouth is gift of Venus, a mouth outlined by thin lips
that she need not accentuates with glossy pink lipstick.
When she smiles, which is often, her well formed and even,
white teeth brighten up her whole face.
I guess you can tell that I am mad about her.
She is as beautiful as a Hollywood Star.
The reporter got a hint from one of his blogs that there was sure
a girl in his life. She was already on a look out for a story.
She who can does, and he who can not teaches.
The Golden rule is that there is no Golden Rule.
All is fit to be news which readers like to read.
Of course, she never denied any of it aloud,
Of course she never agreed to any of it in private.
What could he make for his love for her?
He was warned of the dangers of any romantic attachment.
This was his weakness.
He was ignoring the Advice.
He had come for attending a limited issue and go back.
As fate would have it, it lasted 18 years.
Quite simply put, the very sight of her, the very sound of her
made him change his resolution.
The way she moved, her happiness, her sorrow, all this,
made him love her.
The world was pleasant when she was with him.
He felt the food was delicious.
He did not feel the mid-day heat.
He felt the mid-day cool and enjoyable.
He had heard her voice this very morning.
He had phoned her that he was coming.
He had caught happiness in her voice on hearing this.
Of course she made no comments about it.
He had faith some day she would truly love her.
She was an exception.
She was perhaps the only woman on this earth
who dressed to try to down-play her beauty.
Not that she tried to look ugly but she came to
regard her beauty as dangerous for her profession.
She dressed pure and simple in full white.
She tried to identify herself with those hundreds of
miserable girls whom mother nature did not bestow beauty.
The suppressed grace, the beauty tried to escape from bondage
and revealed what really she actually contained in her.
More she concealed, more it was revealed.