NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 9

Sheepishly I asked the cop to tell me which hospital it was?
“This is Bombay Hospital & Medical Research Centre and this is Marine Lines”, the hefty cop replied.
I rang Sanjeev’s number and was still clueless who he was and how Paakhi and he knew each other.
Clearing my throat I inquired, “Mr. Sanjeev?”
“Yes. It’s me. Give me the location without a delay of single second”, he replied back.
“Bombay Hospital & Medical Research Centre at Marine Lines”, I replied sheepishly.
I was trembling and also shivering. I had never seen so much blood in my life. Still horrific was the presence of Paakhi’s blood on my shirt.
My eyes were getting blurred and my heart had started beating faster.
Paakhi’s phone rang again.
“This is Sanjeev here and why the hell has she been taken to Bombay Hospital? Don’t you know Jaslok should have been better?” he said angrily.
I simply couldn’t figure out what to say.
“Yes. Certainly! But the cops didn’t waste a minute and made the ambulance park straight in front of this hospital’s gate”, I replied.
“Where is she now?” Sanjeev asked in a much higher pitch this time.
“They are taking her to the operation theater and I need to hang up now since I have to sign up some papers”, I concluded.
“No need to sign any papers before I reach there in another twenty minutes”, said Sanjeev.
“But they require signature of a person who is ready to take her responsibility”, I replied.
“Look Mr. whoever you are. Neither are you a family member nor are you a friend. Basically I don’t know you and I still don’t know what Paakhi was doing at Colaba. Ok. Now let me hang up because I think I am almost there!” concluded Sanjeev.
“Are you her family member, friend, fiancée, office colleague or relative?” asked the cop.
I was thoroughly confused. I just replied with blankness in my voice.
“A friend”
“The doctor who examined her the moment we bought her in here says, stitches need to be administered on the wound she sustained on her forehead”, said the cop.
“They need somebody’s signature since lot of blood has flowed down. There might be a mild fracture close to the area near waist. Only an X-ray can confirm that”, completed the cop.
To sum it up, it was necessary for some documents to be signed up before Paakhi could be operated.
I was at the most difficult juncture of my life. Neelanjan’s Nayantara was injured. And Paakhi who had saved Abhiroop’s life was now unconscious.
As I was lost in my thoughts, a black colored Mercedes came to a halt near the entrance. The door opened and I saw an average built but close to six feet tall guy jump out of the car. He was wearing blue denim jeans, a white T-Shirt and a black jacket over it. Reebok was imprinted on the white pair of sport shoes he was wearing. He straight away walked towards the reception desk, we were all standing at. Looking at the cops and without even taking notice of me, he straight away walked towards them.
“I am Sanjeev. How is Paakhi? Where is she?” he inquired.
“She is in the Operation Theatre, a bit critical and needs to be operated immediately”, one of the cops replied.
“Ok”, Sanjeev concluded.
“Where is that guy who seemed to have accompanied Paakhi in the ambulance?” asked Sanjeev.
The cop who had taken down my statement a few minutes back directed him towards me.
Sanjeev gently walked towards me. I kept looking at his personality. He was definitely handsome. ‘I am rich’ was written all over him. He slowly approached and stood close to me glancing at me with anger, suspicion and speechlessly.
“I am Sanjeev. My name is Sanjeev Surti and I am Paakhi’s fiancée”, he introduced himself.
The papers I was clutching in my hands slipped. The pen landed on the ground and I suddenly saw the world of my dreams shatter.
“What have you done to my Paakhi?” he questioned in a tone that was extremely uncanny.
Before I could reply, he gripped my collar.
“This is Paakhi’s blood on your shirt, isn’t it?” he asked.
“You have her blood on you” he added.
“Give me the papers and get out before I unleash my inner evil on you”, he yelled.
The cops came to my rescue and freed me of his clutches.
“Wait Mister”, Sanjeev yelled at me.
I turned back. Sanjeev made an advance to me and the next moment landed a tight slap on my face.
“You are responsible for all this and I promise you every needle that pierces my Paakhi’s skin will leave its pain on you”, he said.
I was utterly shocked to discover Paakhi was engaged. Sanjeev was real and he was standing in front of me. I mustered the courage to get up. My lip had started bleeding profusely after it suffered the slap. I looked at Sanjeev from the corner of my eye as he stood their signing the papers. I advanced towards him and was about to tap his shoulder, I collapsed.

- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 8

In that dingy apartment in Jogeshwari, life was nothing less than hell.
If not cockroaches, the tremendously mobile mice family kept me on my toes.
They had eaten up my shirts, notes, currencies and at time even cheques.
When I tried to complain to my landlord, he retorted that this was still much more of a paradise I can expect to inhabit in Mumbai.
Going to the office was out of question.
I still called them up to inquire if any one was around. Sajjan replied, “Sahab aaj aaram kijiye”. (Sir! You rest for the day today)
No one seemed to have turned up after a turbulent lash of monsoon the previous evening. Before I could hang up, I asked Sajjan to help me with the number of our Colaba office.
Inadequately educated and least interested in digging for numbers, Sajjan still reluctantly helped me with the numbers. Before I could hang up, he couldn't hide his curiosity to ask me as to why I needed the number of our Colaba office.
I dialed the number from my mobile phone and in a much heavier tone asked for Paaki Seth. The voice on the other end replied that she was absent. I was a bit surprised. I was not thinking of that moment but of the evening. She had asked me to meet her at Leopold Café. She had not confirmed the time but I was fine as far as she was comfortable meeting me in the evening.
I shaved and was about to step into the bathroom for a shower. I suddenly heard a knock on my door. Grabbing a shirt to shield my average built, I opened the door. In front of me was standing Reshma. She has been working in this building as a maid in at least five of the rooms. Some rumored about her to be much more than a maid. But my landlord maintained she has always been a victim of jealousy. I agreed. I was only stunned as to why she was at my door.
“Your landlord told me you need a maid”, spoke Reshma.
“I never asked for one because I don’t require one”, I replied in a displeased tone.
“Rs. 250 for washing of clothes, Rs. 250 for utensils, Rs. 250 for housekeeping and for anything else it can be negotiated”, spoke Reshma with intoxicating confidence.
I wondered what she really tried to explain with her extra stress won anything else for which she was open to negotiations.
“If you don’t mind, I want you to leave now”, I told Reshma.
I made it clear to her that I being single never would require any of her services and mildly warned her to not lure me to the set of anything else she was referring to.
“Rude”, yelled Reshma and left to my relief.
I took a peaceful shower and put the music on.
Lost in Kishore Kumar’s melodious voice he lent for every song he sung for Aandhi, I retired speechlessly into instant sleep.
Luckily I had set an alarm for 4 pm on my mobile phone. I jumped off my bed and was also surprised to see around ten missed calls. Every call was made from different numbers which appeared to me of public booths. But one number that caught my attention was the number Paakhi had asked me to dial. I mustered the courage to dial it. The beep suggested the owner of that number was busy on a call.
I looked at the watch and decided to leave for Colaba to be at Leopold Café by 8 pm and not upset my Nayantara.
At exactly 5 pm, my phone rang again. This time it was the number Paakhi had asked me to dial for her. The voice on the other end was of a male.
“I received a call from this number, who is it?” asked the voice.
“I am Abhiroop”, I replied.
“You have been bothering me gentleman. I am clueless as to what kind of problem do you have?” he asked angrily.
“I am requesting you to stop calling my number because I hate wrong numbers and blank callers”, ended the voice.
I was angry and at the same time clueless as to whose number was it if it was not Nayantara’s or Paakhi’s.
At 8 pm sharp, I was at Leopold Café. On some of the walls I could see what the massacre of 26th November had done to this café which was established in 1871. The Leopold Café opens up at 8 am in the morning and remains functional till midnight. Authors, poets, lovers, travelers, photographers frequent this place.
I spent some time at the counter that sported the lovely Leopold merchandise one can purchase and take along. I was impressed by the T-Shirt and the coffee mugs.
I looked at my watch and it was ticking 10 minutes past 8 pm. I stepped out of the café and was relieved to see Paakhi trying to cross the road. The traffic was thick. Rains had once again started but this time the downpour was moderate. Paakhi waived a hand to me. I signaled back. The road got clearer. She stepped down from the divider and started pacing a little faster to cross the road. Suddenly I saw a car speeding from the right and before Paakhi could cross the road, the car barged in and in front of my eyes flung her at least five feet above the ground and sped off. She landed on her head. Her left arm was bruised. Blood suddenly oozed out of her forehead and within minutes, a crowd gathered. I ran faster, took her in my arms and held her close to my heart and screamed – Ambulance Please!
Some visitors who were already sitting at the café came to my rescue collected the things that might have fallen off from her purse. One of the crowd members handed over to me her mobile phone, which rang the moment I placed it in my pocket now drenched with Paakhi’s unstoppable blood. I couldn’t answer it. And then the last content that seemed to have been lying their unattended was handed over to me. It was a small photograph; the one’s which fit into a wallet. Half of the portion was now badly drenched in blood and slightly mutilated by now because of manhandling. On the right was visible Paakhi’s image in a vague tone. Amidst chaos, I could not figure out whom she was with?
An ambulance arrived and so did some cops. I requested them to first help me take Paakhi to the hospital, any hospital nearby and assured them of answering all queries that might rise.
In the ambulance, I was accompanied by one traffic cop and a bystander.
As we started moving towards an unknown hospital, Paakhi’s phone rang.
This time, I answered it.
The voice was familiar to me.
“I have been trying your number since one hour, where are you?” inquired the voice.
“I am taking her to the hospital. She has met with an accident”, I replied back.
“What? Where? And how did this happen? Which hospital are you taking her to?” questioned the voice.
I was myself clueless as to which hospital we were headed to so I looked at the cop. But the cop was himself on the phone inquiring about hospitals around.
“Who are you?” asked the voice.
“I am Abhiroop”, I replied.
“Are you not the one, I spoke to this morning?” he asked.
I said yes to his question.
“Give me your location, I will be there in one hour”, he replied angrily.
The ambulance stopped and the cop signaled me to get off the ambulance.
Paakhi suddenly opened her eyes and cried out a name which pierced my ear and heart too.
“Sanjeev”, she cried in pain. She then again slipped into unconsciousness.
The phone rang again.
“See Mister whoever you are, I am Sanjeev here. See to it that nothing happens to my Paakhi. And if you are the one who is responsible for this, let me tell you the worst is on its way”, he completed.
I was stunned, surprised and speechless about whatever was communicated to me over the phone.
The cop asked me something but I went blank and slipped into a strange state of silence.

- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 7

Paakhi and I were having the first ever lovely conversation.
She told me to not address her as Paakhi because she loved being called Nayantara.
“Do you know to write poetries?” she asked.
“I used to when I was in Kolkata but presently no more”, I replied.
“Rabindranath Tagore, Sarat Chandra, Bankim Chandra are the authors who were born in West Bengal. They all were great thinkers, great writers and wrote things which are ageless. My personal favorite though is Devdas. It is an ageless story”, said Paakhi.
I was stumped by her knowledge of authors and poets who were born in Bengal but world renowned because of the literary excellence they had achieved.
I had read Devdas a more over 30 times. I had not only like Devdas’s love story with Paro. But his relationship with Chandramukhi always put me in a irony of how a person can get so besotted with a courtesan. Gradually I did realize that Devdas is not the story of a zamindar family. It is the story of Lord Krishna, which Sarat Chandra had interpreted with great panache. Some also argued that it was Sarat Chandra’s own life. Brought to life on celluloid by many renowned film makers right from Bimal Roy to the very recent Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Devdas seemed to be like a goldmine. But right here, it was Paakhi who was talking to me about the Bengal based writers.
“I like Devdas too”, I replied.
“Don’t you think, the author Shree Sarat Chandra could have done justice by bringing Chandramukhi and Devdas together?” asked Paakhi.
“Yes he would have done the poetic justice. But don’t you think Devdas died a better death?” I asked.
“How do you say that?” Paakhi asked me.
“Devdas was always in love with Paro till the end of his life. Even in Chandramukhi, he tried to find Paro”, I replied.
I also understood that Chandramukhi and Paro both loved Devdas in their own way. If Paro was her Lord’s Radha, the Meerabai was Chandramukhi.
“What kind of relationship do you think Devdas and Paro shared?” Paakhi asked.
“Same as that of Radha Krishna”, I replied instantly.
“And what do you think Devdas had to do with Chandramukhi?” inquired Paakhi.
“Chandramukhi pushed Devdas back to sanity. She made him realize that he belonged to Paro. She knew somewhere that she could never win the heart of a person she loved and worshipped. His heart and his self had always belonged to Paro. They were childhood sweethearts. There was no way they could have stayed separable. Finally destiny too brought them together but Devdas couldn’t even get a glimpse of Paro because if he would have succeeded, Sarat Babu could have never delivered the greatest romantic epic of all times”, I concluded.
“But do you think this filmmaker Anurag Kashyap did justice to Devdas by presenting him as DevD?” Paakhi inquired with a slice of anger filling her eyes.
I had seen DevD. I had also discovered how Anurag, one of my favorite filmmakers of Indian cinema had transported the story to the culture rich Punjab. He had shown it in the light of North Indian robustness. DevD roamed through the lanes of Paharganj in Delhi. He befriended commercial sex workers. And his Chanda was a far cry from the subtleness of Chandramukhi presented by Vaijayantimala and Madhuri Dixit.
Sheepishly I replied, “Yes he did do justice.”
I continued, “Devdas is a story that can be adapted to any time, any century and any locale and still it won’t lose its luster.”
“Devdas is ageless, Devdas is charismatic and Devdas is a story that can also be set at a foreign destination”, I said.
“It is a young Devdas who is a cult figure of recent times in the form of DevD caught in the cobweb of love, lust, drugs and a rebel within”, I added.
“So Neelanjan is a bit of writer too but seems to be not writing nowadays?” remarked Paakhi.
She was right. She was close to a passion of mine, I had long buried when I had left Kolkata.
I had given up writing for a reason that was far closer to heart than closer to my life.
Just like Anurag Kashyap, I too had tried writing Devdas in today’s context and adapted it to the Kolkata of recent times. I wanted to tell her that in my story Devdas was caught in a live-in relationship with Paro. I had planned to call him Devu and had rechristened Paro as Pamela. And of course Chandramukhi was to be presented as a high society woman whose name was supposed to be Chand. But I wanted to give Chand, the shades of grey. She was supposed to be a good looking, vivacious lady who befriended the crème de la crème of Kolkata. But very few would know that she used her beauty and grace to leverage power between two political parties stuck in a battle of conquering the reigns of Kolkata. Somehow my pen had just moved an inch and something happened which changed the course of my life. I wished to say all this to Paakhi but deep within I was shaken by the thought of losing Paakhi.
“Every Bengali loves to imagine. I imagined too!” I replied back to Paakhi.
Paakhi and I were lost in conversations.
Thankfully due to a rainy night and to help stranded bystanders, the Barista outlet was lenient enough to make it available the entire night.
Finally the rains subsided.
I glanced at my watch and it was close to 5.30 am.
We both could see people heading back home. It was taken for granted that very few would be planning to go back to their offices.
“We should now leave Neelanjan”, said Paakhi.
“So early?” I inquired.
“Well, if I am not mistaken, we were here for the entire night”, said Paakhi.
I just wanted to tell her that one night was not enough for Nayanatara and Neelanjan to understand that love was developing between the both of us.
Half heartedly, I too agree to depart.
“So which train are you taking from VT?” asked Paaki.
“Not from VT but from Churchgate. By the way it is no more VT. They call it CST!” I replied.
“Yes. Politically I am so incorrect”, said Paakhi with sarcasm.
“And where are you going?” I asked her.
“Let’s see, can you please dial that number for me again if you don’t mind?” asked Paakhi.
I dialed the number and on hearing the first ring I handed over the phone to Paakhi.
She just walked to a corner of the shop and started speaking. I kept looking at her from the billing counter. I realized she was trying to explain things to someone on the other end. After 15 minutes she came back to the counter and thanked me for having helped her with the phone.
“Everything fine Nayantara?” I asked. I was excited that I was addressing her by the name she wanted to. Definitely I was falling in love with her.
“I wish this world was a place of imaginations Neelanjan. Why do we have to rebel against our wishes, desires and dreams?” she said in a sad tone.
The moment we stepped out of Barista, Paakhi waived for a taxi and hopped in. She bid me a farewell but in a hurried way and the taxi disappeared far away. I just could think that it might have taken the JJ flyover route. But I was clueless where Nayantara’s destination was. I started walking back to Churchgate. Clouds had disappeared and slowly the sun was preparing to shine over the city of dreams. Once at Churchgate, I was again surprised the way Paakhi or Nayantara just disappeared. But I was content with the fact that we were working for the same company. The next day itself I can visit her during lunch or say in the evening, I can just wait for her outside her office.
I waited for the train to be announced. As I was supposed to board the train, my phone rang. The number somewhat looked familiar. I answered it. On the other end was a male’s voice.
“Paakhi!” said the voice.
“Abhiroop. I am Abhiroop speaking”, I replied.
“Maybe a wrong number, I guess?” said the same voice.
After disconnecting the call, I checked my call registry that had the number which I had dialed for Paakhi. Strangely I realized Paakhi had deleted it. I redialed the number; I had received the call from. No one answered it.
The train moved towards Borivali at a normal pace. As it touched Mumbai Central, my phone rang again.
This time the number was unknown and unfamiliar.
“This is Nayantara. I am really sorry Neel. Can we meet tomorrow evening at Leopold Café?” said Paakhi.
“Yes!” I replied instantly.
Finally I reached Jogeshwari and once again was back to that dingy apartment of mine.

- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 6

By the time, we both reached the Barista outlet near Mumbai CST Station; it was close to 11.15 pm. The outlet was still functioning in full swing since the stranded were opting for some cups of cappuccino and hot snacks.
Paakhi opened up the conversation.
“We finally reached our destination Abhiroop”, said Paakhi.
I replied, “Yes! Indeed”.
Secretly I wished the journey hadn’t been so smooth and fast.
I would have preferred to walk rather than hire a taxi.
But at that hour of the night and with a female friend, it was just not advisable.
Barista was still serving hot. I could see some foreigners too taking great pleasure in sipping the piped hot coffee.
Paakhi and I stood there speechlessly gazing here and there, thinking whether we could ever get a seat or a corner to just sit down and converse.
I was sure; the night was in no mood to get over smoothly. Our mobile networks had no problems but neither could we make calls nor receive any. I had no problem with that. But Paakhi was concerned.
I asked her, “Paakhi. Is there something I can help you with?”
She replied, “Yes! If you don’t mind, can you please dial this number from your mobile?”
After five minutes, I was struggling with the number Paakhi had handed over to me.
Considering the urgency of the situation, I realized the networks had gone berserk.
“Bad luck Paakhi. I am just not able to get through. Whose number is it any ways?” I asked.
“Its ok Abhiroop, if it’s not reachable there is little that we can do”, she completed.
As I stood there talking to Paakhi, the group of foreigners stood up to leave the place. Like a child wanting to grab the first set of toys accessible, leaving Paakhi behind I pounced upon the table and held on to the chair beside me. After having done that I realized how foolish I was. I had left Paakhi for a seat. But then I realized that we were definitely waiting for a seat to be vacated. I turned back sheepishly and saw Paakhi coming forward with once again a broad smile on her face.
“I am sorry”, I said in an apologetic tone.
“Come on Abhiroop, we had long been waiting to find this seat”, said Paakhi.
But from within, I was feeling that what a foolish impression I must have cast on her. She might have definitely said once silently in her mind that this is a guy who really wants to make things work. I did not want her to know that feelings were developing for her, in my heart. Then I thought, she would find it strange that in the very second meeting I was expressing how obsessively in love I was falling with her.
“Hello! Where are you lost Abhi?” Paakhi asked.
I was hearing my nickname after a span of more than fifteen years. If I am not mistaken, my mother used to call me by my nickname of Abhi. During my growing years in Kolkata, Abhida, Abhir and a hell lot of other unauthorized nicknames had made me become a stranger to my own name. Paakhi was helping me reconnect with the real me.
“Mr. Abhiroop, kee korchee?” asked Paakhi.
I laughed out saying, “Well Paakhi, you mispronounced it.”
“I am so sorry”, she apologized.
I corrected her saying, “You should say Kee Korcho meaning what is you doing or what are you up to?”
Paakhi replied bilingually, “Theek chey, theek achey.”
I found our languages very similar. My mother tongue Bengali was dipped in the sugar syrup of rasogolla and Paakhi’s Gujarati was naturally sugarcoated. The people around us were speaking lot of languages. The clearest I could hear were Hindi and Marathi too. But we were already the unique most of all. It was a typical phenomenon of the Indian East meeting the very much Indian West.
To finally cut the ice, I engineered the communication again but this time in a different way.
“Where is Nayantara? I can’t see her”, I said.
“Neither can I see Neelanjan”, Paakhi replied with a mischievous smile.
“You said, they would follow”, I said.
“Maybe they might have not gone the taxi. We were lucky or do you think we should have offered them a lift!” exclaimed Paakhi.
Our conversation was taking off. As I made up my mind to continue with it, the waiter interrupted in. Paakhi and I placed the initial order of two cappuccinos. We continued with the conversations.
“Where do you work Abhiroop?” asked Paakhi.
I replied, “I work with Culture Mantra, a company that promotes ethnic art of India. I work in their administration department that is located at Nariman Point.”
“You must be joking Abhiroop”, pat came Paakhi’s reply.
I asked, “Why?”
Paakhi said, “I work with them in their creative department that is located at the back of their outlet located in Colaba. I am also an employee of Culture Mantra. And hello hellow, we are meeting for the first time Mr. Abhiroop.”
I was thrilled and excited at the same time apprehensive of what she was saying. The expressions on my face made Paakhi realize that I was finding it difficult to consider it as a fact.
She pulled out her identity card from her purse and asked me, “Now do you believe that we both are working for the same company?”
I was more than pleased. I now knew that Paakhi was somebody I am going to really start liking.
Once again I asked her about Neelanjan and Nayantara.
“I found Neelanjan. See he is drinking coffee”, said Paakhi.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“You are in front of me my Neelanjan. Can’t you see your Nayantara? Can’t you see yourself in her eyes? If you still can’t see what she is seeing then how will you find Neelanjan around”, said Paakhi.
I replied, “Nayantara. You saved my life and you gave me a new life. For years, I had waited for you to come to my life. Where were you so far?”
Smilingly Paakhi replied, “The taxi did take some time to come. But I finally reached where Neelanjan wanted me to.”
“Where is it that Neelanjan wanted you to meet him Nayantara?” I questioned.
“At Barista, on a rainy night, stranded and thinking if we can ever get to go home. Weren’t you thinking that Nayantara should have taken a long walk?” asked Paakhi.
“She did walk with me. But only in imagination”, I replied.
“Not at all Abhiroop. Look around and look carefully, you will see Nayantara. She is real”, said Paakhi.
“I already am seeing you Nayantara”, I completed.

- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 5

I stood there surprised. But before I could question her any further, she had disappeared in the alleys of the maddening crowd at Churchgate station. I was disappointed. I was feeling incomplete. So I just pushed myself into the madness that I had stood spectator to. I was keen to look out for Nayantara. I knew she tried to hide herself in the crowd but she was still watching me from somewhere. I was not able to see her. I remained sure, she definitely was watching me. I was pushed ahead and I was thrown back. I could have flexed my inactive muscles that had gone cold over a period of years. But I had to maintain my sanity because I was trying to compete alone with the world. I managed to pull myself out and went back to the same position that I was near the book stall. As I stood there trying to catch some fresh breath of air, a hand tapped my shoulder. I responded with frustrated eyes, raised eyebrows and a hint of agitation in my voice that ejected with a, “Hoo”.

I was surprised. It was Nayantara again. She stood their calm. Her gaze managed to calm me down. She just moved forward and asked me, “Neelanjan. Did you hear that announcement?”

I hadn’t heard any. Nayantara made me concentrate on a female voice which said the downpour over the hours had only worsened towards the suburbs. As a result of which, no trains would leave Churchgate till further notice. I looked at my watch and it showed 10.15 pm.

“Calm down”, advised Nayantara.
“I am fine”, I replied.
“Your eyes tell me, you are not able to lie”, remarked Nayantara.
“What do my eyes say?” I asked.
“Hmmm. Well they tell me, you are angry. They tell me, you are very displeased. They also tell me that you were on my quest. And when you found me, I once again disappeared”, said Nayantara in one single breath.
She read my thoughts. She caught the expression of my eyes. I pulled out a kerchief to rub the sweat off my face. But it was just an effort to hide the amusement I was subjected to by Nayantara’s perfect observation of me.
I replied, “I am still angry with you”.
“What for?” she asked.
“Don’t act innocent. You had promised me something and you broke it”, I yelled back.
“You are not supposed to yell Neelanjan. It doesn’t suit you. In fact, look at your face. Anger itself is completely a misfit for your face”, she replied smilingly.
“Thank you for the advice”, I replied back.
“Sorry”, said Nayantara.
I looked at her face. My mind was still flooded with the questions, I wanted to ask her. But her smile just didn’t allow me to do so. She looked the same that she looked the day I first met her at Marine Drive. She stood there calm, composed and confident pleading me to forgive her. I forgave her instantly. I somehow knew I was falling for her.
“You don’t have to be sorry Nayantara”, I told her.
“I am not Nayantara”, she replied back.
“In that case, I am not Neelanjan”, I countered.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to know our real names?” she inquired teasingly.
“Abhiroop Mukherjee”, I gave out my real name.
“Paakhi Seth”, she revealed.
“Paakhi – A bird”, I said amusingly.
“A free bird, you can say who wants to fly high in the sky”, she spoke.
“A bird that knows no boundaries just traverses through continents and loves to meet people rather than species of her own kind”, she added.
“Now this bird is thirsty and is dying to have a cup of cappuccino coffee”, she completed.
“My favorite too”, I added.
“But Neel… Excuse me Abhiroop, the vendors seem to have run out of stock!” exclaimed Paakhi.
“The world has still not run out of cappuccino”, I replied back teasingly.
“Imaginations are turning real?” I asked her.
“We are still in an imagination Neelanjan”, replied Nayantara.
“Are we still in an imagination?” I asked.
“Yes. I am still calling you Neelanjan and you haven’t yet called me by my real name”, she replied.
“But then who is Neelanjan?” I asked.
“He is in you Abhiroop”, replied Paakhi.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Within you, visible to me but not you”, replied Paakhi.
“And who is Nayantara?” I asked.
“She is me but only visible to you Neelanjan”, she replied.
“So what is the difference between imagination and reality?” I asked confusingly.
“Just that in reality you are Abhiroop and I am Paakhi and in imagination you are Neelanjan and I am Nayantara”, she replied calmly.
“What is the next step then?” I asked.
“Café Coffee Day or Barista where we both can converse over a cup of cappuccino”, she replied smilingly.
“What about Nayantara and Neelanjan?” I asked teasingly.
“Taxi!” she waived.
“They will follow us and they will give us company over our conversations”, she concluded.

-vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 4

My life kept moving every day without a halt without a break. But there was sufficient amount of emptiness that left me thinking of Nayantara to just come back once. From the time, she had promised to meet and till date; I expected her to meet me at the same spot. A week passed then a month and some more months. Impatient I was but I was still stubborn to meet her. At times, my heart and my mind seemed to be going their different ways. Sometimes I found it strange to find them both caught in a dilemma as that of mine. But there was no way they could have been different because both the mind and the heart belonged to me. It was in the month of March that I had met Nayantara and today it is the first week of June that I still wish to see her once. If at all she turns up, I am eager to ask her, “Nayantara, How fair it was of you to just betray my trust and cause me so much of disarray?”
My office people once again followed the same routine of paled departures. I just made myself comfortable at one of the windows, the blinds of which Sajjan Singh had left open. I watched out of the window and down the street. The sky above didn’t look good. I felt the monsoons were announcing its arrival. At a distance, I could see the sky turning grey. I realized Mumbai was getting ready for its first round of monsoonal showers. I never hated monsoons. But I neither loved them too. Though people traveled from distant countries to experience monsoons in Mumbai, I never was too fascinated by its tempting seduction. It was close to 7.30 pm, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Sajjan Singh.
“You don’t seem to be in a mood to go home!” exclaimed Sajjan.
Abruptly nodding my head, I walked out of the office and pressed the elevator button. Realizing it would take ages for it to come to a halt on the 10th storey, I made my mind to take a stroll down the staircase. Every floor that I passed stood witness to my dismay over Nayantara having gone missing. Then there were the Romeos & Juliets, the Lailas & the Majnus; adding that something special to their farewells to each others at the end of the day. On reaching the ground floor, I realized I had left my wallet in my office drawer. Luckily the doors of the elevator opened and I just pressed the button that took me straight to my office floor. Sajjan was about to lock the door. I requested him to lend me ten minutes. After I collected my wallet, Sajjan and I once again walked down the stair case. Exiting my office building, I once again walked to the same spot, I had met Nayantara. I settled down to let the calmness of the sea overpower my unpleasant senses. My calmness was short lived. A eunuch just couldn’t tolerate me enjoying the calm. The only solution I could think of was stashing a ten rupee note into its hand. The moment, I did that the eunuch quickly hid it in its blouse. Before it left, it said, “Whatever your heart wishes today, it will come true.” I was simply bowled by the irony of the situation.
Suddenly I felt some water drops settle right down on my shoulders. I looked up and I saw the first of raindrops making me go wet in a matter of 20 seconds. Even though, I tried protecting myself; it was not worth the effort. For the next 30 minutes, it rained like a nightmare. I was sure; Mumbai was under its first ever wet spell. After the rains subsided, I started walking towards Churchgate station. Every one was rushing wet, including me. All were in a hurry, I wasn’t. On reaching Churchgate, I was shocked to see most of the trains were running behind schedule. All the platforms were flooded by people. Every corner was crowded. People were making phone calls and they were looking at the overhead indicators eagerly. The indicators were showing nothing but a series of digital ciphers which at that moment of time only added discomfort to the already out of control situation. Inching backwards, I made myself comfortable near a Wheeler book stall. One side of it being of glass, I found a reason to pass some of my time. I started looking at the books that were beautifully arranged side by side and their titles and their authors. The arrangement was a thoughtful mix of national and international authors. From Chetan Bhagat to Paul Theroux, every one appeared there on an equal dais. At the same time, my ears were on alert to update myself on the announcement of the next possible train. Reports and rumors however confirmed, today’s night was going to be longer.
The first train that was announced after fifty minutes happened to be a Virar local. The crowd barged in uncontrollably. I decided not to take any risks.
I turned back and was about to turn my gaze towards the Wheeler book stall. At a distance, I found a familiar face running breathlessly. Every step she took was careful. From head to toe, she was wet. The expression on her face conveyed that she was worried of being late. The color of her lipstick might have faded but it still carried the traces of the cherry red shade she might have sported the entire day. Her dress was drenched. She was running. Before I could catch a closer glimpse of her, a guy accidentally dashed into her. This led to an accidental fall. Both the guy and the female fell down. In a hurry to escape, the guy just stood and once again got into motion. But the female took some time to recover from the sudden impact. Entire Mumbai was running home so no one seemed to have the time to lend her, a helping hand. Her hair was covering her face. Moved by her helplessness, I went closer to her and gave my hand to her. Without looking at me, she just caught a tight grip of my palm and then my wrist and then my shoulder. She brushed aside her hair which by now had covered her entire face. Her face became visible. The first word that I spoke that evening after leaving office was to her, “Nayantara!”
She looked at me confused. The train that was set to leave the platform blew the horn and ferried away half of the frantic crowd. I was in no mood to pay attention to it.
“You are Nayantara”, I said.
“What?” she asked.
“Remember me?” I questioned back.
“Who are you?” she questioned.
I replied, “I am Abhi… err Neelanjan. I am Neelanjan!”
She looked at me and then said, “I don’t know you Mr. Stranger!”
I was surprised by her denial.
By this time, some people had started gathering around us. Any ways there were a lot many already who were surrounding us.
I was feeling helpless and excited at the same moment.
I realized, I was still holding her hand and I just loosened my grip on her wrist.
She relaxed and pulled out a rubber band from her purse to assemble her open hair.
I just kept looking at her. She readied herself to leave. Just then an announcement was made that no trains would leave the platform till the rains in the suburbs subsided. At that moment, I was the only companion by her side and she was the only company I had.
I once again asked her, “Nayantara, don’t you remember me?”
She replied back, “Imaginations. Are they for real Neelanjan?”

- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 3

For the first ever time, the journey from Churchgate to Jogeshwari did not feel like a penance. Though the compartment was filled to the core, I was enjoying that moment of clutter around me. Having reached late, my eyes had become heavier and wearier. All I needed now was a sound sleep. At that dead hour of the night, all I had to keep me company till my residence located 20 minutes away from the station were dogs. They first barked at me and then gave up on their pursuit of a shaken prey, which I wasn’t. I was prone to coming late and most of the dogs by now must have known me by my smell.

The main entrance gate of the building was locked. In desperation, I did once think of waking up the people who seemed to be sleeping there in peace. Difficultly but successfully I jumped over the gate and finally made it to the B Wing of my building – Jagriti Cooperative Housing Society. Jagriti symbolizes awakening and enlightening. In this case, the building was famous for being home to many a record breakers & achievers in the ‘art of sleeping’.

On the third floor that my flat is located at, the peace was broken only by my activity of opening the lock. I looked to my right and to my left only to feel relieved that no one saw me entering my residence. On entering the flat, I switched on the lights. Since I was yet to take my bath, I thought of playing some sweet western music. Toni Braxton broke the silence of my apartment through my all time favorite & sultry number – UNBREAK MY HEART. By the time, I was back from the bathroom; Bryan Adams had already coupled up with Barbara Streisand to sing I FINALLY FOUND SOME ONE. That particular number made me go back to the agonizing hours that I had spent contemplating a suicide at the Marine Drive. And that song reminded me of Nayantara. I inched closer to the mirror and told myself, “Abhiroop. Today you have been gifted a new lease of life by none other than Nayantara.”

I tried to analyze whether at first sight I had fallen in love with Nayantara. I then discouraged myself of even bringing that thought to my mind. It was true that Nayantara had saved me but did that grant me the liberty to proclaim that I was in love. In the past, love had only caused heartburns and heartbreaks. So, this time I promised myself to not go looking out for love or expect anything from a person I took to liking maybe on the first day of my meet.

My eyes had started flickering. Bryan Adams voice filled my mind when he sung HAVE YOUR REALLY LOVED A WOMAN from the 5th audio track of the CD. I looked at my watch, which teased me by saying it was almost close to 3.15 am and I hadn’t yet slept. Switching off the music system, I retired to bed. I thought I might dream that night. I did dream but Nayantara wasn’t in the dream.

At around 8.30 am, I took an auto to Andheri station. The entire world seemed to be in a hurry except me. My mind was lost in thoughts, which automatically had contributed in slowing down the pace of my leg movement to board a Churchgate bound local.

On reaching office, I was once again put off by the usual worn out look of my office. The only source of entertainment that arrived at that hour was Sajjan Singh, the Head Peon of our office. Finding no one around, he took great pleasure in discussing with me the exploits of his adventurous night. Even though, it were his conversations my mind was out of it thinking continuously about Nayantara. The boss came in and so did his secretary. The entire office knew of their controversial affair. But no one seemed to be interested in pulling them away from each other.

During lunch hour, I really wanted to know how much time was left for the evening to arrive. Finally it was 6 pm. The boss and his secretary had left citing reasons of an urgent meeting that had cropped up at the last moment. The rest of the staff started making arrangements right from 5.30 pm, to exit.

Since I had an agenda on my mind, I preferred to stay back. Finally I managed to escape from office by 6.30 pm. Today, I knew very well where to go after office. I started imagining how Nayantara’s reaction would be on seeing me. I had sprayed maximum amount of body cologne to shun the worst smells. I started waiting at around 7 pm. The hours started increasing. My mind had stopped functioning and I was both agitated and amused because of Nayantara.

It was at around 8.30 pm; I looked at my watch and felt like a foolish who was just made fun of. Nayantara never arrived. I told myself I am not Neelanjan and waiting for Nayantara is like making fun of my ownself.

Nayantara never arrived and I kept visiting the spot for the next few days. Nayantara had left an impact on mind, I thought and kept waiting and waiting.


- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 2

She questioned back, “Confused?”
I replied, “Yes, you are confusing me.”
“How can you say that?” she inquired back.
Looking at her face, I thought as if I knew her from years.
She had a round face, a little chubby one with dimples getting formed whenever she smiled occasionally.
I could see how her face kept animating every time she uttered one word after the other.
Finding it irresistible, I once again asked her, “Why are you calling me Neelanjan?”
She replied back, “I thought you are Neelanjan because I don’t really know what your name is.”
Later she continued that there was nothing wrong in creating an imaginary name for a stranger.
For the first time I was looking at a girl who didn’t know me nor my name and nor did she know where did I come from. But she had already established a wonderful connection by simply giving me a new identity, a new name – Neelanjan.
I felt I would really want to know this woman who somehow had protected me from putting an end to an otherwise lonely life of mine. I therefore decided to end all kind of strange thoughts that had started corrupting my mind. Even though I was poised to leave this world, she had in a flash, brought me back.
I asked her as to why she had to save my life?
Gracious she was and equally intelligent was her reply.
“I couldn’t see the grief on your face Neelanjan”, she said with little amount of seriousness on her glowing face.
“But how do you know, I am unhappy?” I inquired ironically.
She continued, “I saw you walking at a pace, which was not at all a good sign of happiness.”
She added further, “At the corner of the Air India building you stood for some while then turned back. When the signal went green, I saw you almost cheating the maddening barrage of vehicles chasing towards the suburbs. Every sign of your movement gave out negative vibes that you just don’t want to live anymore.”
Those were the moments, which I didn’t even recollect but had caught the mysterious lady’s attention. My restless actions had prompted her to stop me and address me by some name.
“Not knowing your name, I just thought of calling you Neelanjan”, she said.
By the time she had completed saying this, I had come back to the real world. Suddenly the sounds of blaring South Mumbai traffic made me realize that I had finally renounced my decision of leaving this world. The sound of sea waves from the Arabian Sea seemed melodious now.
Now I knew it was my turn to tell her my real name. I interrupted her and continued.
“I am Abhiroop”, I told her.
“Lovely name and I am now eager to know your surname”, she said.
“Abhiroop Dhreetiman Mukherjee”, I completed myself.
“Bhalo Khoob Bhalo. So you are a Bengali Babu Mashai?” she inquired teasingly.
Sheepishly I told her about my Bengali origins and that I lived alone at a suburb far away. She still insisted, “Tell me where you live Mr. Abhiroop?”
I requested her not to address me as Mister and just call me Abhiroop. I later told her that I stayed at Jogeshwari. I also told her that my apartment was located at a miserable place surrounded by cattle sheds and sweat shops of small time leather goods manufacturers.
After a lengthy round of conversations, I somehow realized that not for once had I inquired about her name.
Though I never believed in being shy, I still had to muster the courage to ask her name.
“Nayantara”, she replied back instantly.
My name is Nayantara she said and continued that she is very much a town side girl. She told me Nayantara is her real name and no imagination.
She then said, “Abhiroop, do you mind me calling you by the name of Neelanjan, I some how like it. Maybe it suits you!”
I had no reason to avoid her request.
I told her, “Strange. But I like it. You can call me Neelanjan.”
Memorizing the name in my mind, I felt that this name really was impressive.
I then started looking at Nayantara. She was every bit of a woman, I always imagined of being my life partner. She was dressed in a mustard yellow salwar kameez. She had no glasses to protect her eyes but I somehow felt she wore lenses. Her hair was not so long just limited to her shoulders. Her cute nose was festooned with a small nose ring that had some colorful beads weaved together. She wore long earrings. Around her neck, she wore a lovely piece of maroon color beads that was adorned with a cute little pendant, which somehow ended her making like a diva. On her left wrist was a Fastrack 'Elegant Collection' watch. Her right wrist displayed a splash of vibrancy. I noticed how beautifully she had decorated it with three thick sized bangles of mustard yellow color (which matched her salwar kameez), two medium sized bangles of maroon color (which matched the color of beads around her neck) and two slightly thinner sized bangles of black color. The nail paint she had applied matched the mustard yellow salwar kameez that she was wearing. The upper portion of her eye lids looked extremely attractive because of the thin eye liner that she seemed to have applied with geometrical and symmetrical perfection.
I was totally lost in her and all the words she might have continued saying me in my subconscious state of gazing at her seemed to have evaporated in the thin layer of Mumbai’s fresh air.
Unable to hold back my excitement to have met this goodwill ambassador, I asked her if she knew the meaning of Neelanjan.
“That is what you are supposed to know Abhiroop”, she replied back.
But I would like to address you as Neelanjan was what she stressed like she never was a stranger to me.
I told her I shall definitely find the meaning of it.
“It will have a very Bhalo meaning Neelanjan”, she once again said smiling mischievously this time.
I asked her in a hurried pace, “When can we meet again Nayantara?”
Without a hint of hesitation she replied, “Tomorrow evening, same place at 7.30 pm.”
I asked her that how should I trust her?
“Neelanjan. You will come and you will find me here. You might not be saying it but your eyes tell me, you will want to come here tomorrow. I myself am sure, you will come. I will come and you will treat me to a delectable spread of continental food at The Trident that stands there illuminated”, she replied confidently.
I told her, I would definitely look forward to meet her.
I looked at my watch. It ticked 11.30 pm. I knew I had very less time left to board a train to that sweating suburb of Jogeshwari.
I turned at Nayantara and asked her, “Will you be traveling alone and won’t you be late or feel a bit scared about?”
“No! Why should I Neelanjan? This is my city. I have grown up here. From my childhood days every corner of this city has embraced me. Just don’t worry about me. I shall spend some more time conversing with the sea. I do that every day Neelanjan. Now you should go home. Or else you will miss the train back home. You will miss coming back to office. If you don’t make it to office, would you like to keep Nayantara waiting for you”, she spoke back in one breath.
Smiling and eagerly wanting to know about Nayantara more, I called for a taxi. I jumped into it and the taxi sped towards the first turn at the traffic signal near the Ambassador hotel. I pulled out my mobile and looked at the time and suddenly I realized that I hadn’t asked Nayantara her mobile number. I requested the taxi driver to take a U-Turn and take me back to the spot where Nayantara and I last stood conversing. I stepped out of the taxi but couldn’t see Nayantara anywhere. I looked to my right and I looked to my left. I looked to my back and I kept looking around but she wasn’t there. I told myself that it might have been a dream or just an imagination. Putting my head down, I started walking back to the taxi. Suddenly I found something that lay down unattended on the hard stoned footpath. It was one of the beads Nayantara had worn around her neck. I quickly collected it and put it in my pocket. I climbed back into the taxi and told myself, “Abhiroop… Nah! Neelanjan, this was not a dream. Nayantara shall definitely wait for you tomorrow evening.”
The taxi came to a halt near Churchgate station. The police authorities were already yawning. The platforms were neither empty nor crowded. A Borivili bound slow train at a snail’s pace entered platform number four. I boarded the last gent’s compartment and looked out of the window. I was surprised to see Nayantara who waived her hand and bid me good bye!

End of Chapter 2

- vociferous

NAYANTARA & NEELANJAN CHAPTER 1

“Neelanjan,” I heard once.
“Neelanjan,” I heard again.
“Neelanjan,” I kept hearing.
In stead of dying down, the voice started getting clearer and closer. Though I kept moving ahead, I felt the voice was directed towards me.
But I am not Neelanjan. Then why should I wait?
I was inching closer to the Arabian Sea.
For months, I had waited for this day.
I stood there, looking around me.
There were tourists, there were lovers, there were artists and there were photographers, office goers & every other form of human being.
I just waited for that moment.
The thought of me being watched by somebody didn’t even cross my mind.
The waves in the Arabian Sea kept creating melodies, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter.
Night was spreading its wings on the city. The Queen’s Necklace appeared in full bloom. Right from the NCPA to the stretch that comprised the Trident Hotel, the Air India building, Hotel Marine Plaza and some of the most famed playgrounds; the Queen’s Necklace stood illuminated.
I was once again tempted to renounce my decision to end the journey of my life.
At the same time, I was determined to leave no reasons for others to discuss.
Inch by inch, I started closing towards the sea.
I kept repeating to myself that I was no more needed to survive this life in this city.
I had left no note behind. I had left no excuses behind. I had left no unfulfilled wishes behind.
Diaries were the only asset that I had left behind.
My memories were too strong. I was lost in my thoughts but the incessant calls for ‘Neelanjan’ kept interrupting my thoughts.
I stopped, turned around and saw her standing there.
She was sweating profusely. I faintly tried to recollect how long had she been looking for Neelanjan. She settled down on the parapet wall. She was breathless. I could hear her heart beating at a racy pulse. After taking a long breath, she stood up and came closer to me.
She started by referring me as Neelanjan.
Before I could react, she asked me, “What do you think you are doing?”
I have been calling you for so long but your arrogant mind never for once attempted to turn lenient.
She told me, she saw me walking and wanted me to stop from doing what I had on my mind.
I asked her what did she think, I was planning.
Innocently and with a mischievous smile spreading on her sober face, she replied that she somehow knew that the Arabian Sea was not going to be kind to me.
I told her that she confused me!

- vociferous

End of Chapter 1