Part I – Here
1.
The heavy May heat had settled downwards as night arrived, like a suffocating blanket that offered dull acceptance rather than relief. Each breath, languorous and slow; in and out, relying on a disappointing routine for survival. The walkway next to the hotel in Rishikesh had enough visitors, even though it was located right at the end of the river’s bank. Children ran and jumped, stopping to peer at the quiet Ganges, occasionally dropping leaves and pebbles in the darkness.
From here, the water glowed softly, yellow-crimson reflections like a Van Gogh painting swirling in the far-off distance, where the pathway met the city. A man and a woman, walked past her, as she held her gaze down. Ruby did not want to smile at anyone. She was aware that her mouth was unwilling to cooperate. Sometimes, she thought endlessly of smiling, practising in front of a mirror. Two tiny dents appeared at the sides of her mouth, the left one quivering like a shaky finger. Weak muscles or middle age?
She got up from the bench and walked towards the water. Somewhere in these shallow currents, lay some sort of life. City-bred fish, gills breathing remains of fume-filled air; smells of blackened corn and Maggi noodles swimming inside, making them question this environment. Maybe the fish felt alienated too, just like her. Nobody knew how to belong anywhere, not even the fish.
She walked on towards the opposite side. She was done with the stalls selling cheap bracelets, balls made of bright green plastic, fridge magnets and tight T shirts that only 10-year-old girls could fit into. After pausing for a moment, she turned towards the right. The crowds dwindled as she reached the end of the walkway. Only one couple stood here, watching the darkness, his hand around her waist. She stood next to them, looking at the forest ahead.
Nostalgia enveloped her as her eyes adjusted to the outline of the trees ahead. Train journeys at night, sitting near the iron grilled window. As a child, she was fascinated by the inexplicable darkness. What lay there, in the vastness outside where sight could not comprehend itself? The overwhelming need to halt the train, and run out into fields, bushes, canals – the unknown with its eyes of light, imaginary creatures forming shapes out of shadows.
Now she was transported to a station in the middle of winter. Signal, fog, where, when? There were two men, standing next to her. Smell of rust, icy cold door handle. Where was it, somewhere after Mathura? When? Now. She was there. The fog beckoned her with long fingers. Come, dance with me. A jerk. The train moved; she was stuck inside. Once again, lost her chance to find out what lay in the big bad world outside. The men smelt of urine and cigarettes. She huddled under the beige blanket on the top berth and cried. The fog was left behind, now she would never know.
The sound was coming from her tote bag. She knew this song. It used to be her favourite song when she was thirteen. Fumbling, she pulled away at the zipper to tear it open. Kabir. Kabir. No, she did not want to talk to anyone. But he must be worried. She was his wife. She must answer.
Kabir asking where she was, was she enjoying herself, what did she eat, words coming to her head, gnawing at her ears, hurting her head.
“The river here looks red, Kabir. Do you think a river bleeds? If all the fish were to die, would there be enough blood?”
Kabir was gone. Her son on the line now. Her darling boy. “No, no, nothing to worry about. I’m fine, my darling.”
You know how Mamma thinks too much. You are just like me. You understand, don’t you?
My darling, my only thread tying me down.
Only 2 years old when I slapped you. I’m sorry. I love you.
“Yes, I will call you again tomorrow morning, Tikloo. Stop worrying about me so much. Let me enjoy my holiday.”
Yes, yes, okay, alright. Silence. The couple was gone. Alone again. Silence. It was time. Time to explore, time to live.
Picking up her skirt to her knees, feet over the steel railing meant to restrict trespassers. So warm. The mud was squishy, her sandals sinking in. Just a little further ahead. Where the trees began, up on that slope. I’m coming, I am not afraid. Not afraid. Stumbling in the darkness endlessly, just far enough to be alone.
She lay on the grass, her skirt wet and brown. Only stars, no lights on the river. Only stars.
She closed her eyes for a minute. Then she felt a heavy presence, hovering around her head. She smiled to herself. You came, I knew you would.
She heard his wings flapping and finally it stopped. He sat down next to her, watching her lying down with her eyes closed. Then he touched her hair with his long fingers, feather tickles over her forehead, then her cheeks and lips. He lay down beside her and kissed her.
She found herself crying. First quietly, then sobbing and then a gasping, breathless scream.
“Don’t cry, Ruby. I’m always here with you. Am I not?”
She calmed down and turned to look into his eyes. Yes, he was right. She was never really alone. There was always someone there, giving her company. A soft breeze blew from the river. It was pitch dark where she lay, but far away, the lights of civilisation kept her safe. What was there to fear in this forest – leopards, wolves, elephants? That was a dramatic assumption. The wildlife reserve began after two kilometres and was protected by a tall fence. There was nothing here except snakes. Besides, she had him now. He would always keep his promise. Whenever she called, he would come.
“Make love to me Nayan. Right here, on the grass.”
“Ruby, can I ask you something?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Why do you always call me Nayan? I’ve come to you in so many forms, with so many different faces and yet, it’s always the same name. Why Nayan?”
“Because each time you came, I recognised you by your eyes. Your eyes were always the same. That is why you are Nayan. You are not him, not my Shiv. I know the difference.”
“My darling Ruby. Come closer. Keep your hand on my heart. See, it beats the same as yours.”
She took her right hand and kept it on her chest. She sighed in acceptance, closing her eyes.
“Yes, it does.”
The loud singing woke her up. I fell in love with San Pedro…
Excerpted with permission from Floating Worlds by Alpa Arora. Excerpt permission obtained via author Alpa Arora.