Skip to main content

Steep incline that I crawled up to, only to get under


It was a steep incline, I was driving towards it on my two wheeler. But the wall rose up before me as a wave would, and to drive over it, I had to let go of my vehicle and crawl up to the edge of the top. I made it with barely enough time, the fringes of a collapse pattern were forming beneath my heels as I stepped on it and ran across the wave’s head.

My friends drove before me, two of them, I wondered for a brief moment, if we would make it at all. They were no where in the horizon, squinting my eyes at the ugly bearded hag in a meditative mode in the room on my left, I proceeded to search for the window sill in the house. Something I remembered form the previous time I visited the place, I shuddered to let the thought play on my mind though, for I had barely ever visited this haunting mansion before. Then I found, behind a yellow coated wall, through the red tiled hallway; I reached out to the window and crouched into it. Outside, the sound of sirens and the street’s routine calmed me, for now I was in a familiar territory.

I climbed down the four storied amorphous building that melted as an image would in my eyes. The bar was lit with green neon bulbs, a bouncer stood outside and was carefully eyeing everyone. Then everything froze in my eyes, it is as if I could not perceive anything anymore. For a long time, though how long I cannot say, I was blind. And I saw again, there I was in the lush green cricket ground behind my house.

Three of my friends were with me, I was keeping with no gloves on. My Nike sneakers were wet, for I stepped into the pool of mud to scoop out the hard tennis ball. I was conversing with the batsman throughout the game. It was mostly about the batsman’s brother. I was very curious.

I was not bowling so well, an off swinger held to its line and went down the leg side. last ball of the over; the keeper was very vigilant, he moved towards the leg side a little. It was a good length ball and it bounced a little more than usual. The ball after hitting the ground inches before the batsmen’s front leg, swung back instead of drifting to the leg, and stole its way through the gap between the bat and pad, hit him in the ribs. It was so gratifying.

I had to have a glass of beer with my friends. It was incumbent on me, an overpowering desire to get on a high, and indulge in a nice conversation about nothing in particular. But the friends were lost, they drove off before me as if they knew the way around. We met on the way, and I becalmed myself before rebuking them, for they had to slow down a little. But this provoked my friends and they drove off even faster, I told myself, they will pullover the nearest bar. But we never met again.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Where British Steel met the Nubile Cultural Beauty.

Noughties have been a delight. My life began; I might be tempted to say-just as any other city’s did. But the fact is that my life began when angry gentlemen threw spades at each other. In sixteenth century, my rulers at Golconda founded me. Musi, my artery ran through me fresh and clear embellishing me for years. When plague besieged me portentously, my rulers wove one of the most beautiful monuments in India-Charminar, adorned me with the crown. But before the incumbent rulers at Golconda could flourish in the shadows of the great crown and meadows of the fecund land, Nizams defeated them in a battle. What was to come next, I would not have contemplated at that time, but looking back, I realise that the Nizams watered those shrubs of culture that sporadically rose in the rule of my previous rulers. What was to be quoted by Dr. Ambedkar after my inclusion in the united India - as home to all the riches and culture, so good to take upon the capital city status for a united India - grew...
2 comments
Read more

Chowmahalla Palace

It was the morning after my wedding. The dark peachy coloured blinds on my windows were still drawn; the maid with pigtails had retreated after laying down the morning’s breakfast on the thickly lacquered table. Stepping down from the cot, silk thread from my morning dishabille was stuck in the headrest’s broad eagle wings; it threatened to steal away my modesty. Gathering the folds around my knees, I restored propriety before slipping my feet into the glint slippers. The flower vase in the patio shone its tinselled mouthful of white roses that caught sun voluminously. In the garden that night, sitting alone, with the full moon perched in the pool water before me, I recalled the incident and the man who had turned me into a woman. The day before my wedding, a painter had been called. I met him in the courtyard; he was seated on a backless piano chair. Neatly perched on the easel was the drawing board, and from behind it, with tapered quills, greeted a man with sagebrush moustache. Th...
1 comment
Read more

Doused with life

Kiran was only eight years old when the incident occurred. He was walking home tired and hungry, sweeping the tar road with his eighty rupees worth new shoes as he walked on completely exhausted. His school bag, he hung it up his head and lunch box was suspended to his right shoulder. The year was 1984; India had just won the world cup. Kids were playing cricket in every street and by lane of the city. The cycle repair man was pulling the air filled tube through a bucket of water to check for the air leaks, the tall man Kiran’s neighbour stood by the repair man’s side counting the leaks himself, lest he be cheated. ‘If I can reach the end of the incline before the limping man nearing it from the other side of the road, I will get first rank in class this summer’ Kiran challenged himself. He reached the incline that would ease his harrowing walk from the school to home; he descended down the incline with measured relief and took a left turn at the end of it. He left the limping man behi...
Post a Comment
Read more