APRIL FOOL BANAYA!!!!!

Sumeet arose shortly before his wife and waited until he saw her
stirring.

Quickly he stood up next to the bed and grabbed his chest moaning
loudly. He watched for her reaction out the corner of his eye.

She yawned and stretched.

Sumeet moaned louder, staggered about, crying out. Still there was no
response from his wife who was wide awake now.

Sumeet fell to the floor with a loud thump and began flopping about
like a fish out of water. He cried out with the anguish of the damned.


“Sumeet,” his wife finally said in a calm voice, stifling another yawn.
“Stop it. It's not gonna work. I know it's April the first. You've
never been able to fool me and you never will. Now stop goofing around
or you'll be late for work.”

At the office, he ignored the work folders stacked on his desk as
he tried to think up some way to fool his clever wife. After trying
for ten years and failing his need to do so had become an obsession.

And then he hit on it.

He told his secretary of his plan and being a natural practical joker
she went along with it. She had her roommate, Divya, call Sumeet's
wife, since her voice was too well known. Divya was to tell her that Sumeet was seeing another woman.

“That'll get her,” Sumeet chuckled gleefully.

~

“Are you certain?” Sumeet's wife asked when Divya had told her of
Sumeet's fictive dalliance.

“Yes,” Divya replied sympathetically. She heard a faint sob and
almost didn't have the heart to continue. “Yes. I'm so sorry to be
the one to tell you.

With another sob Sumeet's wife thanked her meekly and hung up.

That evening when Sumeet got home his wife seemed more taciturn than
usual, but she said nothing. He smiled to himself, knowing that
he had finally gotten to her.

After dinner, she glared at him over the table.

“So, you're seeing another woman! How could you?”

Sumeet started laughing.

“April fool! I finally got you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Sumeet told her how he had got his secretary's friend to call her with
the phony story. But he wasn't prepared for the shocked look that
turned his wife's face ashen.

“Oh, my God!” she cried, horror struck.

“Why, what's wrong?” he cried, feeling an uneasiness creep all over
him.

“I put rat poison in your food,” she cried out in great distress.
“Sumeet! Sumeet! Oh, my God, Sumeet!”

Sumeet glanced down at the unfinished portion of his meal – rajma and chawal
-- and felt himself becoming ill.

“We have to get you to the hospital!” she exclaimed, rising so quickly
that she knocked her chair over. “You'd better drive,” Sumeet said
weakly, holding his stomach as they climbed in the car. “I might not
be able to make it.”

As they sped toward the hospital Sumeet tried to think of a plausible
story to tell the doctors about how he had ingested rat poison, for he
still loved his wife, and after all, if he hadn't fooled her none of
this would have happened. It was all his fault. What an ass he had
been.

Suddenly Sumeet realized they weren't headed toward the hospital.

“Where are we going?”

His wife glanced at him smiling.

“There's a sale on at Westside.”

“But I'm dying,” Sumeet moaned with disbelief.

“Oh, f***, surely you don't think I'm dumb enough to fall for one of
your April Fool's jokes, do you?”











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WORDS CAN HEAL

It is Sunday. Not yet dawn. A few streaks of a promising day etch through
the darkness of the endless night. A night that sends him into thoughts
of her. He tries to escape the lingering memory but no matter. Her
presence is etched into the very fabric of his being. From the way she
drinks her coffee, to the pictures on the wall. It's been a month since
he's seen her and it's like no time at all. She lives in his heart always

"Is this madness I feel?", he asks himself as he looks in the mirror,
then laughs at his own reflection. Touching his face, it is like he is
looking at himself from outside his own body. "Am I here?", he thinks
to himself, shakes his head and heads over to the kitchen, pouring
himself a cup of coffee. Taking a deep sip, closing his eyes, trying to
get some sensibility back. "There is no rhyme nor reason, I simply love her.",
he concludes to no one at all, just whoever is listening somewhere out
there.

For the past month, he has a ritual he does each day, getting up early
and meditating, pondering the same thought over and over. Mostly going
over the last conversation he had with her. He likes to tease her as
she is sensitive. She didn't understand the joke and pulled away. The
past month, he gave her the space. The space is silent,like the desert,
full of regret and the whats ifs of his yesterday. Why did he have to
tease her so? Doesn't she know he was joking? He wants desperately to
drive over to her house and knock on her door, pride stops him. The
thought of this mind game she is playing tortures his heart. He loves
her, doesn't she see this?

He prepares himself for his daily walk to the park, bringing his journal
with him and hope that the change of scenery will fill his heart with
answers.

It is early morning as he walks out of his house and the sun peeks out
bringing the promise of a new day. A bright beginning for
possibilities. The streets are still and quiet as he walks the half
mile to the park, yet today, he decides to stop by the cafe for a
while, to just read the newspaper and just listen to the chatter of
regular people going about their day. As he enters the cafe the smell of coffee filters through the room. It is a comforting smell and the warmth of the cafe draws him
inside.

"Hey, nice day, isn't it? Want a booth or a seat at the counter?", the
waitress asks.

"A counter seat is fine.", he shuffles over to the counter and sits.

"Just a coffee."

"Nice day, isn't it?", she says as she pours his coffee.

"Yep. I stop here before I go to the park."

"Cool, nice day to sit and watch the world go by. Just don't get lost in
that world!", she says jokingly. "Want a newspaper to read? I'll go get
one."

"Sure, that'll be great."

She gets the newspaper and hands it to him. He opens up to the comics
immediately to read what Archie is doing today. He likes Archie, always has. Yeah, if he was him, he wouldn't be sitting in this
cafe alone. Archie would find a way to get her back! He smiles at the
thought...

He sits for several minutes sipping his coffee and just reading the
comics.

Paying for his coffee, he exits the diner. "Thanks, have a nice day",
the waitress says kindly.

He exits the diner and crosses half a street, when suddenly a car barely
misses him. The driver beeping the horn, shouts out the window. "Watch
where your going, mister!" He looks into the windshield of that car and
it is her!


"Sadhna! Gosh, I thught I'd drop in but I never dreamed it would be like
this!"

"Oh, my God!! Prateek!! I almost hit you with my car! Are you alright? Let
me pull over."

She pulls her car over to the sidewalk and stops. She is shaken as Prateek
walks over to the window. "Open your window please, Sadhna."

"Prateek, I'm shaking, I'm so sorry, but you have to watch crossing the
street! Is something the matter ?"

"Sadhna, how come you are avoiding me? It's been a month since we last spoke. I
care about you, don't you know that? I was just joking around with my
note that day. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"I know Prateek. It's not you. I've been having some personal problems and I
wanted to handle them myself. I just needed some "me" time. Prateek did you think I
was mad at you? I am not. I love you darling. Forgive my silence. Why don't
you get in the car, we can drive to the park and just be together.

"That's so ironic, Sadhna, I was heading for the park to think about
you."

"Well, now you can think about me, while I am here and not keep me under
your hat. I am flesh and blood and I am here to listen to you Prateek.
Just know that this happen for a reason. We are both too proud to open
up, so fate steps in and opens the door for us. "

"Yes, Sadhna, our silly pride makes us put love under a hat."

"That's a good one, love under a hat! Sounds like Cat in the Hat".

"I'm just thinking how long it would have been before one of us would have decided to break the silence? Or what if we just decided to remain silent? Then what?"

"Yes, silence is silly, isn't it, when words can heal your heart."

This could be your story and mine too and anybodys and everybodys......how many times it has happened that we have decided not to speak about our feelings, our thoughts and just go about doing our thing hoping silence would make things better???? I have done it many times but now I know its not the right thing to do....sometimes silence creates deep cracks which are very hard to mend....So today if you have been silent about anything, go speak your mind...dont bottle up inside...words are more healing than silence......





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SOMETIMES THE REASON CANNOT BE TOLD - PART II

She had been so careful not to let Mehul know too much either about her work or her past. Not to let him go deep inside her life and heart. They had said he’s all right so she became his friend. They had warned her so, that she cannot have any attachment to this man. It was too dangerous. He’s innocent.

‘So am I!’, she protested at the time. And she was wrong, and she was right. She knew they were right too. She said to herself that she could stop it anytime she wanted to. She knew she was wrong about this. Who can stop love?

‘I like cappuchino at CCD’, she said, more to herself. Looking down her feet.

‘Then let’s go there. Much better there than here’

‘I can’t’

For several silent seconds she stared deep into his eyes, the window of his soul. Searching for a reason to hate this man. There’s nothing there but deep worries.

‘You emit light, Mehul’, she whispered.

‘What?’

‘Knowing you is probably the best thing that has happen to me and it will be for the years to come’

Suddenly his throat went dry. She’s breaking up with him. They never officially dated and he never exactly told her he loves her. Maybe she got tired with all of the uncertainties. Women expect their boyfriends to blurt the words all the time. This seemed like a good time. Maybe
he should tell her he loves her. And then maybe she wouldn’t leave him.


‘Maya, I love you’

She looked startled to his spontaneous declaration. Mehul could swear she looked disappointed. Or maybe angry? It was very cold outside and the snow blurred your vision. Is she crying? Perhaps. He had to say it.
If it could make her stay then why the hell not?

‘Thank you’ was all she said. His heart sank.

All scenarios went through his head. What can I do to make her stay? Should I beg? Should I get on my knees and beg her to stay? Should I cry infront of her, coz I would if she leaves me. Oh God, please...

‘I don’t expect you to understand anything Mehul. I can’t even ask you to forgive me for what happened. I’m sorry’

‘No. No I don’t understand, and that’s why you have to explain to me. What happened Maya? What is going on? Something happened while I’m away that’s for sure. Did I do something wrong? Tell me and maybe I can fix it’

Mayaa tried so hard not to cry. Her eyes stung and hurt. At the corner she could see the woman wearing a black coat looking at her watch. She’s been standing there all the time while Maya was talking to Mehul. She wasa looking impatient now.

‘Please, Mehull’, she whispered slowly and hugged the speechless man. His scent, his warmth, his deep voice tone while talking to Maya, she would miss all of it.

Mehul unsure on what to do wrapped his arms surround her frail figure. Inside, his heart was starting to break to pieces. But he would not give up just yet.

She let go of him and stared at him with some determination in her eyes.


‘I want you to know that I do love you. I hope we will get to meet again, Mehul’

‘Where are you going?’

She just smiled to him and walked away. Something just punched Michael right on his chest. The blow didn’t injred him physically but the damage was unfathomable. He stood there paralyzed for some seconds before he could moved his legs and start chasing her.

‘Maya!’

Mayaa kept on walking to the lady in the black coat. A white car pulled by and she opened the door for her.

‘Maya! Wait!’

But she didn’t look back. She got in the car followed by the lady in the black coat and the car drove away. The tail light disappeared on a curb.


Maya’s apartment was already cleaned empty. They didn’t let her leave anything behind. Not even a note for Mehul. No one knew where she went, or who she was. Nobody knew if she had any relatives who could tell Mehul where she’s gone to, and no one at work knew anything else except then that she loved dogs and was very quiet girl.

Maya just disappeared. And if only Mehul was crazy on his search for clues he would’ve find out
that there were no fingerprints on her apartment. It never crossed Mehul’s head when he read in the newspapers how a human bomb who was later discovered to be a woman, had blown herself in the capital during republic day killking a lot of innocent people with her could be Maya.

Spring came, and Zena demanded to be taken for a stroll on the park one afternoon. Passing the bench, Mehul didn’t stop. A young couple had occupied the bench now, talking with papercups of coffee in their hands. He walked into CCD and ordered a cappuchino. A distant voice could be heard, 'I like the cappuchino at CCD.'









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DREAM

As always he's sitting, there, smiling.
I'm so elated.
I wrap my arms around his neck, gently kiss him on the cheek before greeting him,
"Dad, I have so much to tell you......"
***********************************************************************************
I get up with a start.....
Its been over ten years since he's been coming to me in my dreams.

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WALKING AWAY

She had swore that she wouldn't, she would never let it happen to her,she wasn't like the other girls, she was different, at times she thought better even. But he was special. He was like no one else she had ever met. She had tried so hard to stay away from him, knowing it was wrong, knowing she would be going against everything she stood for, everything she had believed in. But to her it seemed impossible. She felt drawn to him, attracted to him so strongly that when he was around she couldn't think straight. All she could see was him, all she could feel was him, there was no one else except him.

She still remembered it all so clearly like it was yesterday. Every time she closed her eyes he was there. His perfect face grinning at her, his bright brown eyes burning into hers. If she tried hard enough she could almost remember how it felt to touch him, to feel him next to her. The first time she had seen him she knew he was different, not like the many others that she knew. He had touched her heart, brought down the barriers that she had worked night and day to build. His every presence, his every touch, every tender caress had knocked them down one by one.

She remembered the first time she had met him. Her cousin had brought him and his mom over to their house. She had nearly slammed the door on him without realising he was there. But once she had seen him she knew that she wouldn't ever forget him. He was imprinted in her head for as long as she remembered those wonderful memories. Sometimes it drove her crazy thinking about all the times they had shared, all the things they had done together. But what tore away at her heart was the memories of what it felt to kiss him, to hold him, to make love to him.

She remembered the first time he had kissed her. They were standing in her drawing room. He had brought her home from a movie. She was surprised at how the whole time they were there he hadn't made a move on her. To an extent she was even disappointed. But now here they were standing opposite each other. He kept on saying he was leaving; yet he made no attempt to move towards the door. She had teased him saying she would see him tomorrow, asking why he hadn't left yet, what was stopping him. He said goodbye once again as he moved towards her. He had moved until he was inches away from her face. She felt his hot breath on her face. “You know, I'm not leaving without a kiss” he said huskily staring into her eyes. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat; she looked at him then to his lips. She knew it was wrong, her brain was telling her to run, to stop this before it started, to get away from him as far as possible. But she froze to the spot and whispered, “Well what are you waiting for then?” Her heart pounded as he moved even closer towards her and reached out his hand to touch her face. He brushed the strands of hair that fell into her eyes. He gently caressed the side of her cheek down to her chin. Tracing his fingers around her face until he found her lips. He gently brushed his fingers over them looking at her so intensely, she felt unable to breath. She felt his fingers on her lips and yearned for his lips to touch hers. He finally brought his face closer to hers; she tilted her head waiting for him. He placed his lips on hers and she parted her lips to receive him. She felt his lips crush hers; she felt a rush through her whole body. She could feel the sensation take over her whole body as he continued to kiss her even intensely. She moved her body closer towards him until she could feel her chest press against his. She felt his arms around her as the kiss deepened. She felt her whole body awaken, every fibre in her body was responding to his touch. It was all she could do to pull away from him, trying to catch her breath. He stood there perfectly still, smiling at her. “You know next time, that's not going to be enough” he said as he reached his head forwarded and planted one final kiss on her cheek before he left. She knew exactly what he had meant and her heart skipped a beat at the prospect of what was to come.

The tears rolled down her cheek now as she remembered those memories,those wonderful memories that were going to torture her for as long as she remembered him. She wiped away the tears and looked around at the room. The room, which she had shared with him. She tried to block out the memories of both of them together smiling, laughing, and crying. She looked around the room from the cupboard where he kept his clothes to his desktop where he worked, until her eyes rested on the double bed that they had shared. Her breath caught in her throat as she replayed the many occasions that they had spent making love. She remembered his every touch as if he was touching her for the first time again. The pain was unbearable and she had to look away. She walked over to the door where her bags were packed. She bent down and picked them up. She turned around for one final look before she locked the door. She walked away slowly at first, then faster wanting to get away. She knew it was the right thing to do. She had nothing left to stay here for now. As she walked away, she knew that this very second he was marrying her cousin, making the lifetime commitment that he should be making to her.


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A MATTER OF CHOICE

I met Rakhi almost a year ago, and we have been living together almostas long. It was truly love at first sight. We met at my boss Anand's birthday bash. I had no idea that Rakhi, or anything even as gorgeous as her, worked in the building until that party. If I had, I would have made certain, somehow, that we would have met sooner. It has been a fabulous year with her, and I very deeply in love with her.

Lately though I have been having doubts regarding the return of my love from her. She had begun to act indifferent towards me. You know how women get sometimes. This began about a month or so ago. I suspected she was cheating on me, though I really had no proof of that. That is, not up until last night, when I found out for sure. I had suspicions, you see, and I had to prove them true or false, once and for all. I tried to get Rakhi to tell me what was on her mind - I knew there was something disturbing her - but each time I approached her on it, she shrugged it off as my imagining things. But I could tell that something was not right with her. After all, I've been around, you know. There had been other women in my life before her.

So, after dinner last night, I told Rakhi that I had to go out of town on a business trip, and that in order for me to be where I needed to be in the morning it was vital that I left that night. She seemed nonplused about my going. It was at that point that I felt sure something was wrong. Just a few months ago she would have pleaded with me to stay, and depart instead in the early morning, and she might have even suggested she come with me. She no longer works, and that was at my urging. I didn't want a bunch of horny guys, such as the ones that occupy the Jubilee Building from nine to five weekdays, hitting on her. She was mine, and I meant to keep it that way, and cut down the competition as much as possible.

I was gone, with even a packed suitcase, by seven p.m. I drove to the mall, took in a movie, then stopped at a coffee shop for a cup of tea and a brownie. I drove around for awhile, then shortly after eleven o'clock I returned to the apartment where Rakhi and I lived. Well, as suspicious as I was, it was really no surprise to find my pretty lover nestled up cozily in our bed with someone else. But it was who it was that she was in bed with that surprised the hell out of me!

It was my fat lout of a boss, Anand, married with three kids, that was sharing my bed with Rakhi! "Well, I'll be damned!", I said, not knowing what else to say, as I entered the bedroom. Anand just grinned in my direction, rather mischievously. Rakhi, turned red at the sight of me, and attempted to pull the covers over her head, apparently in an effort to hide her embarrassment of the situation.

It was Anand who finally spoke out. "Oh, come on now," he said to me, "Don't look so surprised. You must have suspected this for some time now. Why else would you be here? If indeed you were going out of town on business, I would have known about it, right? When Rakhi telephoned me and told me you had gone out of town on business, I told her that was not true. So, we figured you had something going with someone."

Then he laughed. Anand pulled the covers down from Rakhi's face, and she lowered her head down, purposely avoiding eye contact with me. "I admit it," I said. “I had no intentions of going out of town, and I don't have anything going with someone else either. Rakhi has been acting rather strange lately, and yes, I did suspect she was seeing someone else from time to time. But I never thought it was you, Anand." "Why not?", he chuckled. "I may be a bit older than you, but I can still do the job."

Again, he grinned, and I was strongly tempted to hit him, or at least curse him out, but the fear of possibly losing my job held me back. I still might have done it had not Rakhi at last spoke out. "I'm – I'm sorry, darling, " she said in a shaky voice. "But I guess I just wanted some variety. That's all it is, believe me. I still love you, and I always will." And I did believe her! It was the way she said it, and right there with Anand, her part-time lover, present to hear it. “Why didn't you tell me?” I asked her. "I would have understood." "I – I don't know," she replied. I guess I was afraid to. I wasn't sure how you'd react, and I didn't want to lose you. I never want to lose you." "Well, I don't know what to say now," I admitted.

Then it dawned on me! They must have wanted me to catch them at it. Anand knew damn well I had no business meeting out of town in the morning, and he already had revealed that. He had said that he even told Rakhi that fact when she called him earlier. Thus, they wouldn't have chanced being together, at least not here! It was as if they read my mind now. "We hoped you might come home, honey, " Rakhi said sweetly. "Why?", I inquired, puzzled. "Well ......" She hesitated, then sighed. "Come on, tell me," I urged. "Why would you want me to catch you and Anand in our bed?" "Well, we – we want you to join us, darling," she said softly. "What?!" I shouted. "Join you?! Are you insane, Rakhi?" "No – really, honey, " she pleaded. "All three of us could do it together. It might be fun. Anand has brought it up before, and we'd both like to try it, if – if you're willing." "Well, I'm not," I bellowed. "There's no way in hell I'm going to let some guy go down on me or vise-versa!"

Well, I don't know how they did it. My boss Anand is a pretty big guy, and somehow he and Rakhi overpowered me and the next thing I knew I was there in bed, between the two of them, and we were going at it like mad! I even had to admit afterwards, when the three of us were laying there sipping the cool and bubbly champagne that Anand had so thoughtfully brought with him, that it hadn't been so bad after all. I don't really know what the hell I expected it to be, but when you have been a confirmed lesbian for as long as I have, I guess you think of doing it with a man as being the most grotesque thing possible. But it wasn't. In fact, I'm looking forward to our next threesome very much. "More champagne, Anamika?" Anand asked me, smiling broadly. "Sure," I replied, smiling myself, "Why not?"

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THOSE WHO WAIT - PART III

I can still remember the day that Yash took me to the airport so that I could go home for Diwali one more time. Little did I know it was going to be our last happy time together. We had our whole lives to look forward to. Everything was perfect, all smiles on the surface and storms brewing underneath. Yash made plans to shop for a wedding ring the old fashioned way, shopping himself. I made plans to sleep with an old lover of mine. With my bags packed and a hopeful look at the future, we got in the car and headed towards the lights of the city.

Somewhere along the way, I heard a song "Dil dhoondhta hai phir wohi", and for an instant I thought of Sameer. I wondered where he was and if he was happy. For just a moment I said a little "what if" and then let it go, like a butterfly in the spring.
***

Later that same evening I arrived in Kolkata for a routine Diwali vacation. My mother took me out to dinner and I told her of my plans to marry Yash and live for a while. She took a deep breath and held her tongue. There were so many things she longed to tell me, so many truths she wanted me to see. But how does someone reason with a person who has lost her reason? Somehow we managed to get all of my luggage in the house and calm down a dog who was tripping over his tongue to see me. I had just started unpacking when the doorbell rang. It was late at night and I had no idea who it was. Like a kid ripping the paper off an unexpected Christmas present, I ran to the door opened it, and almost fell into his arms. There was Sameer standing on my doorstep looking down at me. Had it only been two years since I had seen him last? My heart came to life and began to beat in a way I had nearly forgotten. We hugged like old friends often do and regrets began to flood my mind. As soon as they were formed I pushed them away, like I had done so many times before. We sat there in the entry way of my house and talked for a while about the weather and friends we hadn't seen in a while and how life was treating us in general.

"I'm getting a divorce. Suhani left me months ago."
"I'm getting married." I told him. Now where did that come from? A little voice inside my head told me to take it back. But this was the path we had chosen, Yash was the right one for me. He was what I needed, and besides I didn't love Sameer, I never had, had I?

Sameer took a deep breath and looked at me, "Married, huh?" His eyes plummeted to the floor and silence filled the house. "Do you love him?" Once more he looked in my eyes and saw straight to my soul. There was no lying to him. "Oh Yash is a wonderful guy. You should see the way we work together,and he loves me so much. He works for a big corporation and makes good money, so he'll be able to take care of me. And he's so sweet." The words poured out of me and flooded the room, drowning out my true emotions.
***

When Sameer walked out that night I breathed a sigh of relief as angels above groaned in exasperation. There was no way I was going down that road again. I had Yash in my life and that was all I needed. Things were going to work out just fine. I made false promises, telling Sameer that I would call him so we could talk. For a reason I didn't quite yet understand, I was afraid of him. I had worked so hard to build up a sense of security, and on some level I knew Sameer would disrupt the house of lies I was living in.
***

The day after Diwali, Sameer called. It's funny how such a little thing would change my life so profoundly. He wanted to see me. Not the next day, or next week, it had to be at that very moment. My eyes closed, I took a breath and walked to the edge of that cliff when I heard myself say yes. We spent all night driving around the city, looking at Diwali lightsand dancing around the unspoken words that were wrestling beneath the surface. Somehow or another we wound up parked by the jetty under the white moon. Each of us waited for the other to speak. The silence finally became so thick I was drowning, I couldn't breathe. I closed my eyes and grasped on to a memory of Yash and the laughter we shared. He was the man I was going to marry. Anything that might go on between Sameer and me that night was going to stay in Kolkata, right where it belonged. That was just the way it was going to be, there was no disputing that. I couldn't let my heart rule my life; logic was the path for me. There was no way I was going to jump into the pool of molten emotion that Sameer laid out before me. My mind was made up, the final decision made. And then he said he loved me.
***

By the time I got home everything that I had based my life upon was yanked out from underneath of me and I found I could fly. My faith, my hopes, my dreams and my love had all been handed back to me on a silver platter wrapped neatly up in three little words. I stood in the entryway of the house where Sameer had come a week before and laughed out loud. This time I heard the angels laugh along side of me. The sun was rising in the east as I slid out back for a forbidden cigarette. I lit up and took a deep drag. Somewhere I heard a bird sing and a voice from the past echoed through my mind. "Shreya, I just met the most amazing guy."

The most amazing guy was finally mine.


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THOSE WHO WAIT - PART II

Pushed away by the rumors and lies, I didn't speak much to Sameer anymore. I had lost my best friend and the man I loved in a matter of weeks. So I did the only thing anyone could have done, I went on with my life; returning to the institute with my head hung low and my shattered heart locked safely in a mountain of ice.

In time men, liquor and dreams floated in and out of my existence. With each new passing romance I tried desperately to convince myself that I was in love. Each time, the bitter truth held in my heart floated to the murky surface. I was haunted by images of a familiar face blurred by the events of the past.
***

Over time we stopped talking all together. Sameer had gotten married, or so I heard and had no time for an old friend from high school. I was living my life, searching for the only true thing I had ever lost. Have you ever searched diligently for something when you didn't know what it was? I had worked so hard to tell everyone around me that I had never loved him that I actually fooled myself. What is it that they say about fooling a fool? My life was chaos, I had no direction, no purpose and I prayed for an end to this life.

Five years and several cities later, I found direction in a man who loved me, or at least thought he did. Yash was sweet, wonderful and kind. He was everything that I wanted in a man. We had a whirlwind romance and when he asked me to marry him I said, "yes." It made sense and I was supposed to be happy, these were happy times. So why was I still left with an empty feeling inside of me? There was something missing from this state of perfection, and I didn't know what it was.

I didn't want to know.

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THOSE WHO WAIT - PART I

"Shreya, I just met the most amazing guy in art class. His hands are so." and then she sighed and giggled all in one breath, tossing her beautiful curls to one side. It was the college final year. It was spring time. Outside the leaves were falling away from each other, dancing to the ground. For me, it was the beginning of the end or maybe the end of the beginning. How could I have known that Reena's newest heartthrob would be the man my heart had only dreamed of?

Sameer and Reena dated for the rest of the year. Lucky me, I got to be the third wheel, audience to their budding romance. As the year went on, I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love with my best friend's boyfriend. My hands acted often of their own accord, finding some petty excuse to touch him; I lived for those moments. Though in the end, mournful sighs, stolen glances and a heart full of black rain were all I took home at night. Every day was a challenge to keep my secret hidden behind glass walls. Each excruciating night I lived in a fantasy world where my lips knew Sameer's often and well. I felt as though every beat of my traitorous heart was a betrayal of our friendship. Years before, Reena and I had solemnly vowed to never to let a man come between us. What was I doing?
***
After a graduation filled with such sweet sorrows, Reena and I went to post graduate institutes, not together thank God, but institutes nonetheless. Separated by miles and the cost of a phone call, we talked together every day over our newfound toy, the Internet. Like the leaves on the trees only a year before, Reena slowly transformed before my eyes. Each day she spoke less and less of her upcoming marriage to my love and more of the new flame in her life, Dhruv. I had the privilege of carrying her stolen kisses with me in my soul. In any other situation the right path would have been clear. I would have told Sameer. But if I told him, how could I know if it was for his best interests or mine? My heart, torn between the loyalty to a friend and the honor of my being, ripped my soul to shreds.

Finally it came time for us to return home for the holidays. Diwali was on its way. Familiar music and festivities was apparent all around, even in the airports, as strangers smiled and rushed home to their roots. It should have been a joyous occasion, but my preoccupation with the gravity of her betrayal and mine pulled me into a spiraling inferno. By some magical twist of fate I got back into Calcutta before she did. I was dreadfully looking forward to spending some time alone with Sameer. Without Reena, maybe he would finally see the intensity of my feelings for him. But what if he could see through the lies I carried for her.

It was a crisp winter night when Sammer picked me up for an innocent drive. His words told me he just wanted to say, "hi," but I knew he wanted answers to questions I didn't want to think about. The prayers I sent to heaven that night were chaotic ramblings not easily sorted by the divine. I badly needed to set the record straight, but I was so terrified that he would ask me. How did I get myself into this situation? "Tell me the truth, you know Reena better than most. Has she been cheating on me?" The words I had feared echoed through the darkness. Now there was no hiding from the decision I had been tiptoeing around. "Sameer, you know she wouldn't do that. Don't be silly." My words flew before I could even consider the consequences. Inside I was screaming, "yes! She is cheating on you. Look at me; Look into my eyes. I love you!!"

Almost as if he had heard me he turned and looked into my eyes peering straight into my soul. "I thought you might say that." Sameer shook his head, and for the first time I saw sadness in his usually jovial eyes. His hand lightly grazed across my knee as he reached for the glovebox. My body was on fire and my head whirling. Sameer placed a pile of letters in my lap. "Read these." The pages contained words written for his eyes only, and yet there I was greedily absorbing every word. With each passing syllable, I saw how she had dishonored me and lied to me every step of the way. There had been no aspect of our friendship that hadn't been soiled by her duplicity. My heart exploded, now I would be justified in telling Sameer the truth. There was nothing sacred about Reena; the knife she used was dull, rusty and sticking out of my back. So then why did I still feel bound to her?

"His name is Dhruv, isn't it?"

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55 WORD FICTION

“I can’t marry you,” he announced.
“I can’t make this commitment to you when I don’t know who I am,” he continued.
“I need to find myself.”
Unable to believe at first, I started laughing out loud.
“After seven years, I know what you are.”
I finally said taking off the ring,
“You’re an ass.”

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55 WORD FICTION

Do it.
Do it if you really love me.
He looked longingly at his son, his eyes asking him just one question - Can you see me like this?
Is this right? His mind is in a turmoil.
He looked at his dad again.
In a flash he shut off the ventilator. And walked out.
Relieved.

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55 WORD FICTION

I sit in front of the mirror, looking at the reflection of the sleeping man whom I love.
So peaceful, gentle, handsome, like an angel.
Will I ever be able to leave him?
I let a tears of surrender fall down and begin to apply makeup to cover up the bruises of the night before.

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55 WORD FICTION

"When will I be able to play again?"

"Maybe next week."

"I cant wait. I used to play at school. I am my school's best player".

"I'm sure you are."

How could she tell him that he would never walk again let alone play?

A wheelchair was brought in at that very moment.

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A literary work will be considered 55 Fiction if it has:
Fifty-five words or less (A non-negotiable rule)
A setting,
One or more characters,
Some conflict, and
A resolution. (Not limited to moral of the story)

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LOVE - A GIFT

She sat across the room from him, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat on the pillows. With him, yet in another world.
Wrapped in the white fluffy robe he had so lovingly purchased for her on their first night together, she observed yet didn't intrude.
She watched as his fingers slid back and forth across the strings.
One hand gently plucking while the other moved of it's own accord.
The sound was soulful, magical.
His head bent, he studied his movements, lost within the rhythm he alone could hear in his head and his entire body flowed with the creation.
While he didn't know it, this was the true gift she wanted to receive.
To know him like no one else.
Within his own element, in the seclusion of the music room he was not pressured to be what everyone expected him to be, but to just be himself.
This is the way she loved him.
This was the man that had brought about such a change in her life.
They had both gone to such distances to get to each other.
To be just what each other had needed, had longed for forever.
The feeling of comfort and excitement, both flowing at the same time.
To know just what each other desired with a look.
"Just what do you have?" people would ask, and all she could do was smile.
"Was it worth all of the changes?" people would ask, and he would smile back.
No words were needed.

As if reading her thoughts he stilled his hands and looked up at her.
"I love you."
And she smiled.


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THEFT

"Mama!" the toddler exclaimed as he stumbled towards Amrita with overwhelming joy.
Amrita winced upon the heartfelt call as a sharp pang of guilt gripped her heart.
Painful memories flashed back into her mind,vividly.

She could never forget the day that changed her life. Being pregnant and due, Amrita was trapped in the horrifying and cruel grip of the Partition. Earth shattering explosions seemed to be in hot pursue of Amrita,threatening to devour her.Pungent smell of the innocent blood hung in the air. Scores of bodies of men, women and children,who were masaccared and killed in this bloody aftermath of partition.

Blood seemed to paint the whole city as there was hardly a place where you could not see an injured or a dead. Pleading cries of the innocent filled the air.Little lost children,sat at the cold streets, railway platforms, crying pitifully for their parents. Being pain strickened by the sight and tormented by the abdominal pain,Amrita searched for her husband. Tripping over the dead, and staggering past dying innocent, she finally reached the place where her husband was rumoured to be killed.

Her sorrowful shouts for her husband resounded the lifeless ground.Tears started streaming down her face as ahe thought of the unthinkable possibilities that might happened to her husband. Pain of losing her husband overwhelmed the torturous physical pain.Finally, unable to accept the reality, Amrita collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness.

Rushing footsteps accompanied by painful cries reverberated in her ears.Strong medicinal smell stung her nose, forcing her to open her heavy eyelids.She saw people in whites rushing around in frantic attending to the enormous number of casualties. Looking around, she saw a sordid hospital and death. Strange to her, Amrita's abdominal pain had subsided.Gazing down she saw her bloated stomach had deflated.Making a quick turn to the left, Amrita saw her baby lying peacefully on the cot. Warm tingling feeling surged down her heart as she smiled to herself
Reaching out for her baby, Amrita's heart missed a beat, everything seemed to stop. Her hands came in contact with a cold unfeeling baby. Opening her mouth for a cry of anguish, but nothing came out.Cracking sound of her heart seemed loud to her ears.Hot tears brimmed her eyes and scorched down her cheeks.



Just then a baby's strong loud cry caught her atteneion. "Mama! Mama!" my dear darling tugged at my salwar bringing me back from my deep thoughts. Unlike me and my late husband, my darling had a mop of curly hair just like the hair of the dead lady, beside me in the sordid hospital.

Memories of this theft, would never leave me till the day I die.


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WHAT MATTERS THE MOST

The phone rang.
Anand rolled over a picked up and then hung it up again. Wake up call from the front desk. Sitting up, he stared at nothing in the pitch-black room. Thinking.
Today is the day. Today is his day to take his brothers and sisters to the cleaners. The day to finally show them who is the king of acquisition; the man with the most. Today is the day they tour the estate, and claim what is rightfully theirs among the millions and millions of dollars worth of property and belongings. Remember the rule, he thought to himself – whoever dies with the most, wins.

His father’s funeral was normal. Well, it was normal for a man that owned somewhere in the area of four or five hundred million dollars worth of property. Thousands attended the old man’s funeral. Some, maybe at least thirty were his friends, the rest were vultures and people that wanted to make sure he was really dead.

Anand had mixed thoughts about his father. Here was a man that arrived in this country with not a cent to his name. He worked and clawed his way for more than thirty years to get to the top. Literally to the top, he thought. Nobody could climb higher, or faster than his father did. Growing up in abject poverty tends to do that to a person.

Anand picked up the phone and slowly dialed his home number. Part of him wishing he didn’t have to hear the voice, part of him thankful for the voice he would hear on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” came haltingly from the other end of the phone.
“Hi honey, this is your wake up call.” Anand said quietly.
“Good morning sweetie. Well, today’s the day, huh?” the voice had sadness to it.
“Yes, today is the day. I wanted to call and tell you I love you before I go”, Anand nearly whispered.
“I love you too honey, take care of yourself. Remember what I said”
“I will baby. Go back to sleep, I love you.”
“I love you too.

As Anand hung up the phone he could hardly keep from smiling. Always trying to save my soul that girl is. He got up and got dressed for the meeting. Finest suit, finest shoes, finest custom made Ferrari in the world – he was ready.

As he turned into the driveway he stopped as he made his way around the first turn. From here he could get a full view of the family house. Magnificent. He took in the huge property surrounding the house. Seventeen acres of field and forest. He smiled when he saw the baseball field that his father had installed for them. The only thing that his father did for his kids, he had always wondered about that. He never knew his father, never spent much time with him. When he did, it was just a few hours of a maybe one or two days a month, and it was pretty much with a baseball bat in his hand.

There were six cars in the driveway already. No doubt his siblings were coursing throughout the house tagging what they think is theirs. Well, he’d fix that as soon as he walked through the door. Being the youngest, he was always getting stepped on by his older brother and sisters. He knew how to scrap as well as his father did. He wasn’t raised in poverty, but he had to work against six to one odds to get where he was. Anand parked his car and entered the house. He who dies with the most, wins.

The meeting was short. Short for Anand, everyone was still at the house fighting when he walked out. He arrived back at the hotel in the early afternoon and called home.

“Hello?” The voice was wide-awake now.
“Hey sweetie. It’s done.” Anand replied.
“Is it over? It’s early.”
“Yes, it’s over.”
“Well?”

Anand remembered thinking earlier in the day about how he would react to that question. His wife wasn’t a material person. She kept telling him that they have everything they wanted. There was nothing to gain by fighting over what was left of his father.
“I got everything I wanted.” Andy answered finally.
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything. As I walked in to join in the fight, I walked past my dad’s trophy cabinet and I saw the whistle he used when we played baseball. He was always the umpire, you know. I grabbed the whistle, turned around, and walked out.
“I love you.”
“I love you too. I’ll see you in about eight hours.”
“Bye honey”
“Bye”

Anand hung the whistle around his neck and started packing.


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A HEART THEY SHARED

The night was very dark, and it looked like storms were rolling in fromthe distance. Sarah was a waitress at a local roadstop cafe right off the highway. She worked the night shift, and liked it because there was hardly everanyone who stopped in that late at night. And Sarah didn't feel very comfortable around people.

About 5 years ago, Sarah was in a terrible fire and one side of her facewas burned very bad. The surgeons did everything they could to repair the damage, but it was just to severly burned. It left great scars and made her left eye look higher than the right one. She was very self-conscious and didn't feel good around people.

People always seemed to stare at her like she was a freak. She actually was a very lovely young woman before the accident, but itwas hard to tell now with all the disfiguring that had happened to her face. She preferred to be lonely over all the stares that people gave her. She hated the stares, and had almost become a recluse because of them. The disfigurment had caused her to be bitter and angry, most of thetime. She lived by herself, and stayed by herself except when she worked. The night shift was perfect for her, because there was hardly ever anyone around except the night cook, and he was near-sighted, so he didn't see the disfiguration very clearly.

On this particular night, a young lady was driving home from work, whenthe rain started to come down in big downpours. She looked off the highway and saw a sign that said "Rafa's Roadside Cafe". She decided to pull into this cafe and wait there until the rain had passed. She had never been to this little cafe before, even though she had passed it coming home from work for many years. For some reason tonight, the cafe just drew her to it.

She went into the cafe and took a seat at a small table. She saw thewaitress behind the counter, but she had her back turned, filling salt shakers, so Mira could not see her face, right then. Mira waited for a few minutes, and the waitress didn't bother to acknowledge that she was there. Mira finally said "excuse me, could i get a cup of coffee miss"? Sarah started pouring the cup of coffee and took it to the table whereMira was sitting.

Sarah was thinking, to herself, here we go again with the stares. But, to her amazement, Mira didn't give any reaction whatsoever, except to say "thank you for the coffee". The coffee was good and hot. Just what she needed after being in that cold rain tonight. Sarah walked back behind the counter and finished filling the salt shakers. For some reason she was drawn to Mira because she had not seemedalarmed by her face. She went back to the table and asked her if she could get her anything else. Mira told her she was just waiting for the storm to blow over, and then she would be heading for home.

The two women got to talking, and before they knew it an hour had past, and Mira said she had to be going. They said goodbye and she left. When Sarah went home that night she thought of the kind lady she had mettonight. She liked her, and wished she would come back again. It had been so long since she had really felt comfortable talking to anyone.

As it was, the next night Mira stopped in again after work for somecoffee. When Sarah saw her she rushed right over to the table with a piping hot cup of coffee. They talked even longer this night. Time passed, and Mira became a regular at the cafe. She really liked Sarah and enjoyed their talks. Sarah was always looking for Mira each night. It was the bright spot ofher day. In a matter of weeks they had become fast friends. They liked each others company very much.

Then a couple of weeks went by and Mira did not come to the cafe. Sarah was sad, as she had so looked forward to seeing Mira every night. A couple of weeks later, Mira appeared again one night. Sarah was so happy to see her friend again. They hugged and sat down for a good chat. She asked Mira where she had been, and Mira began to tell her that she had a bad heart and was waiting for a donor. The doctor had told her a couple of weeks ago that her heart was not going to hold out much longer without a organ transplant. That is why Mira had not been to the cafe or to work. She was just getting to weak anymore.

Sarah could not believe it, as her friend was so beautiful, and lookedso healthy. They talked for hours, it seemed, and then Mira said she had to go and rest. Her heart was so weak that she had hardly any strength anymore.

Two days later, sarah got in a car accident. She was hurt very badly and was rushed to the hospital. She was badly mangled by the truck that had smashed into her cab. The doctor said she was not going to make it. He said the injuries were just too severe. Sarah lay in the hospital bed and thought, so this is how it is going to end? Nothing has been accomplished with my life, and now I am going to die alone. She felt sorry for herself for a little while, and then she faced the fact that she was going to die.

It was time to make things right, while she still had time. She lay in that bed for days, barely hanging on to life, and she had plenty of time to think. She missed her friend Mira, and wondered if she would miss her when she was gone. She was so sad and alone. She prayed she would just go ahead and die and get it over with.

Meanwhile, her friend Mira was asking about where Sarah was. She had been to the cafe and Sarah was not there. The old cook finally told her about her and which hospital she was in. Mira rushed out of the cafe and went to see her friend. Their reunion was sweet, as they had grown to care so much for each other in this short time.

When Mira saw her friend, she knew there was not much time left. Sarah looked like the life was being pulled right out of her. She had tubes and wires all around her, and she looked so pale. Sarah looked at her friend and said "I have been praying you would come and see me". Then she told Mira, "I have something to tell you". Mira told her, "I came as soon as I heard, is there anything in this world I can do for you?" Sarah told her friend, "No, but, I can do something for you, my friend". Mira asked her, "What do you mean"? Something for me? It is you laid up here with such terrible injuries, and you want to do something for me? What a wonderful friend you are, but, there is nothing I need. Sarah looked at Mira and said, "Yes, there is something that you need,very much, and I am able and willing to give it to you".

Mira shook her head and said "What are you talking about Sarah"? Sarah looked at her friend and told her that since she was dying, that she wanted to donate her heart to Mira. She said, she felt their two hearts were connected somehow since the first time they met. Mira started crying and crying, and couldn't say anything for a moment.Then she told her friend that was the nicest gift anyone could ever give, but she couldn't let her do that.

Sarah told Mira she had already arranged with the doctor and the hospital that when she died that her heart was to go to her special friend Mira. This was a special day for both of these women. They had met and been drawn to each other in life, and now through death they would still be connected.

Sarah died two days later, and her heart was transplanted into Mira, as Sarah had planned. The transplant was a success. Mira could not go to Sarah's funeral, as she was recovering from her own operation, but as soon as she was well enough, she went to Sarah's grave and stood alone and thought of her "most special friend". She put her hands over her new heart and said "Thank you, my friend for being part of my heart".

The day these two ladies met was not by accident. God sent them to each other with a plan in mind. God knew exactly how this would turn out.

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ITS REALLY A BAD STORY

BANG BANG

“RAJ KUMAR SHARMA, OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I'LL BREAK ITDOWN!"

Raj stood in front of the door as his mother attacked from behind it;banging and screaming away as her anger rose. Raj knew how high her anger could rise and most of the time, knew how to control it, but he didn't want to know if there was another level to her madness. . .nor did he want to be around long enough for that. But that really didn't matter, because if his mother were to break downthat near unbreakable door, then she would probably find one of the most horrific scenes ever witnessed by a mother.

She would find her son covered with blood; pieces of brain matted his hair, spilling blood and water down his back. They weren't his brains, of course, and nor was the small head that he held clutched by its hair in his right hand, as a bloody machete was held by the other.

Across the room sat his girlfriend, who smiled at him as he stood by thedoor, holding it back. She made a kind of snicker and moved toward him. She then went to the floor and crawled to him like a snake, then wrapped herself around his legs. “Ohhh. . .I love you baby!” she said, digging her nose into his calf.The decapitated head's jugular brushed across the top of her head, covering her own with more blood. (Ohhh. . .I hate you with all of my guts!) “Uh. . .yeah, I love you too babe.” He said, looking down to her crimsontainted head. (You don't know what love is!) “You did it again. . .yes, that's right. . .you did, didn't you?” sheasked him, looking up with her innocent eyes, looking into his killer eyes. (Uhhh. . .just another minute and I will scream!) He dropped the machete and bent down to stroke her soft, wet hair.

She purred with delight (disgust) and wrapped herself tighter around his leg. He then got to his knees, rolling the head gently near the bed, and looked into her eyes with all of the love (hate) in the world. “You know I did this for you right?” he spoke softly, ignoring thebanging that still went on outside his room. (Goddamnit, why do I keep doing these things for you. . .I wish I could. . .I could. . .) “Yeah, I know. Would you do it again for me?” she asked him. (Hmmm. ..total control.) “Y. . .Yes.” he answered, bending even lower to kiss her face. Shelicked his lower lip in response, rather feline-like. Her glowing green eyes looked even deeper into his own, probably searching for the truth. (Oh my God, she's doing it again. . .I want to skin her. . .right now, yeah.. . .)

The screaming and ranting still went on as the two sat huddled togetherbeneath the door. Then she motioned to the bed and he followed her as she crawled again. He got on the bed with her and sat, looking at her. And then the door finally broke down. Raj Sharmas' mother broke down the door with all her might and flew into the bedroom to find a scene of absolute horror. She screamed and screamed even louder, looking at her son and the thing on the floor. Then she looked to who he was sitting with. A single bloody cat sat on the bed, looking up at Raj with wonderingeyes. He looked back down at her with both love and hate filling his eyes. His mother looked back to what was on the floor and knew what it was. It was a severed cat's head.

Thoughts of sending Raj back to the Institution filled her head immediately. “What in the HELL is going on!” she shouted. “You know you're notsupposed to be here, Raj! Why'd you have to leave, you were getting better!” She was referring, of course, to his stay at the NIMHANS Mental Institution where he was supposed to be, but had apparently escaped earlier that night. The white band was still around his wrist.

He paid no attention to her, and continued to stare at the one thingthat controlled and loved him: his pet cat Lolita. Raj's mother put a hand to her forehead and used the other to steady herself; she felt like fainting. Raj looked to his mother. “Felix had to die, Mom.” Raj said solemnly, looking over to the feline head that rested against the foot of the bed.

LOVE HAS NO NAME

My job often takes me on the road, more often than not. In the days when I am travelling, my laptop is my lifeline, the one constant in my life. I can often be seen at local wireless cafés, typing away, working on a project while chatting with friends. Being online, having these conversations, brings a certain sense of normality and constancy to my life. Every day for two hours, I log on – the same people are there, and we talk, as if we were in the same room, as if I am at home and they are a couple of blocks away and we could go for coffee at that instant if we wanted to. I could even attend meetings through instant messaging systems, and lead a somewhat grounded life. Internet had brought this into the otherwise unpredictable life that I lead, and for that I will always be grateful.

My present trip was definitely one of my least memorable ones – I had gotten an assignment that had sent me to the middle of nowhere, where the weather was terrible and the night life lacking. To make matters worse, I had a bad case of insomnia. After trying vainly to sleep the first two nights, I gave in and went to yet another café. Better to be tired but satisfied after a good night's worth of work than tired and frustrated from tossing and turning. And, hopefully, the working would tire me enough to get a couple of hours of sound sleep.

At the counter, I ordered something new. I always tried something local that I couldn't have anywhere else – another quirk I have. With my mug of candied coffee (I wasn't so sure anymore I'd be able to catch any sleep, with the amount of sugar I calculated my drink to contain) I sat at the far corner of the café. It was my preferred seating arrangement, as I could keep an eye on the occupants of the room and daydream if I was hit by writer's block.

A woman was sitting in front of me, facing to my right. I smiled at her as I sat. She smiled back. Something struck me about her, something that touched me – yet I couldn't define it. Has it ever happened to you, an unexplainable connection to a perfect stranger, the urge to confide everything in your heart to someone you don't even know, that perfect understanding between two people who logically can't know what the other is feeling or thinking?

I opened my laptop and opened up my music player. I slipped on my headphones and started the music before opening up my work file. After awhile, feeling her eyes on me, I turned my head. Sure enough, she was looking at me with a slight smile. I slipped my headphones off.

"Hi."

"Hi. What kind of music are you listening to?"

"Just some ambience trance music – gets me in the mood to write."

"Would you mind putting it on your speakers? The café's radio is down, and the silence is killing my inspiration."

I unplugged my headphones; the soothing yet upbeat music filled the air between us. "I hope you like it."

"I am sure I will."

"If you happen to have a blank CD on you, I could make you a copy of my favourite ones."

"I'd appreciate it," she said, slipping a CD that was on the table towards me.

We exchanged another comfortable smile and both of us set to work.

It was oddly soothing to have someone else at my side, working on a piece, while I was working on my own. The double sound of keyboards being tapped on in a rhythmic fashion set the tone, and both of us worked non stop for an hour before I realised just how in sync we were.
She typed at the same speed I was; she would pause exactly when I paused; we'd both smack satisfyingly on the enter key at the same time and lean back at the same time. We'd both rub the bridge of our noses at the same time. It was uncanny, and if she hadn't been wearing a wedding band, I would have seriously considered asking her out.

At one point, she raised her eyes towards me and smiled. "I haven't worked this well in a long while."

"Me neither. We might be meant to work together."

"Maybe. Are you a writer?"

"A journalist. You?"

"An aspiring writer. I'm an accountant."

"A writer and an accountant. Impressive."

We both glanced at our screens at the same time. We both felt the need to stretch out the good spell of writing as long as we could. In common, unspoken accord, we went back to work without saying another word.

I looked up again after a long while. My coffee was long gone; so was hers. I offered to get us some refills, which she graciously accepted. I was back in a flash.

"What are you working on?"

"A book."

"Fiction?"

"Yes, but loosely based on real life."

"What is it about?"

"A young girl living in the hills"

"Are you the young girl?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"How long did you live there?"

"Seven years. My father is a nurse, my mother a doctor. My sister and I were born there."

"How old is your sister?"

"She's my twin."

"Identical?"

"Yes."

"I have a brother. He's older than me, but we look so similar that people often mistake us for twins."

"Do you have any pictures?"

I nodded, bringing the file up. I turned the laptop towards her, and she leaned forward to look at the pictures. As I was recounting yet another family anecdote, she turned towards me with a smile and my world tilted. In this light, there was no way of mistaking the faint outline of the bruise around her eye for anything else.
Something in my eyes gave me away; her smile froze and melted. "I fell down a flight of stairs," she said.
We just looked at each other. I knew she was lying, and I could tell she knew that I knew.

"How badly did those stairs hurt you?"

She shrugged. "I just broke one rib."
"How often do you fall down the stairs?"

Her eyes rested briefly on mine before fluttering away. "Not as often as I used to. I seem to have found my balance."
"How often?" I repeated.

"Once a month, sometimes more."

The anger I had vainly tried to control crashed through me, unrestrained and wild. I hid it – it's not what she needed. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I want to change stairs. I don't like these ones anymore."

"Can you afford to?"

She looked at her laptop, tears filling her eyes. "Not yet."

I waited.

"I need to finish this book and get it published," she whispered.

Now I knew why she was typing so fiercely. This was more than writing, more than getting thoughts and emotions on paper, so much more than an expression of her inner self – it was her way out.
"I will help you," I said.

"Stairs can be hard to change."

"That's why you will need a friend."

She suddenly smiled. "I don't even know your name."

I laughed, startled. "And I don't know yours."

"Meha"

"Rishi." I put my hand out and waited patiently for her to accept it. "It's very nice to meet you."

"You promise to help?"

"Yes." But although I knew I was doing a nice thing, I felt guilty; my intentions were not selfless at all. I couldn't help but wonder and even hope if she'd leave her husband for me. I knew it was a terrible thought to have, but it wasn't like I was breaking them up or anything. After all, he was the one beating her.

She nodded. "Thank you." She turned towards her laptop as I turned towards mine; the writer in each of us was begging to find release in the words and sentences whose outcome we could control on our laptops, a world that we create and can manipulate however we wished it. We commonly turned our attention to our work, finding in it a soothing release Meha soon shattered with three simple words.

"I love him."

The statement, out of the blue, shocked me.

"How can you, after the way he treats you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

"Are you going to leave him?"

She nodded. "I can't bear to live like this anymore. But I love him."

"Meha... I want you to promise me that however much you love him, you will leave him. You can't stay with him – he will destroy you."

"I will leave, there is no doubt about that. I hope he will see the error in his ways and repent."

Although I had known it was coming, it still shocked me. "Do you think that could happen?"

She shrugged again. "Anything could happen."

"Don't raise your hopes up. People don't change overnight, and not that drastically."

"What if he does?"

"What if he doesn't?"

"You aren't helping."

"What do you want me to say? You want me to lie to you, to tell you that your husband will change and become a devoted man, when I know very well that the chances of this happening are quite minimal, or non existent?"

But I knew what she meant. I wasn't helping her – I was helping myself. Instead of looking for a solution for her, I was looking to further my own interest, which was to have her leave her husband as soon as possible so that I could pursue her myself. It pained me that she wanted to stay with a man who didn't treat her the way she deserved.

Then again, was I treating her the way she deserved? Instead of treating her like the adult she was and helping her the way she wanted it, I was treating her like a child, making her decision for her that she shouldn't be with the man she vowed to stay with through better or worse. I might not be a wife beater, but I certainly was not being respectful of her.

"The help I need is to find a way of making my marriage work, not of terminating it."

I didn't respond; whatever I had to say wasn't going to help the conversation. Once again, the writer in each of us sought the release of words, and both pounded furiously on our keyboards for a couple of minutes.

"You're right," I said a few minutes later, my eyes glued on my screen. "I am not helping you – I am helping myself help you."

I could feel her gaze on me, burning through my flesh. "Thank you."

We wrote some more for a few minutes. At least, she did – my fingers were poised, frozen, on my keyboard.

"I wish I had met you before my husband."

It was a bittersweet moment. "So do I."

"Maybe, one day..."

She was wavering, when she had been right. I couldn't let my own weakness bring her down. "Maybe. But this isn't the time and place to discuss it. You are married to a man you love, and although things don't look too good, you might be able to salvage it. I have wireless internet access at the moment – why don't we look up support groups in the area?"

"Thank you," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

I couldn't resist – I reached up and wiped her eyes. "Don't cry. After the storm, there is always sunshine. Sometimes it just takes a little longer to come out."

She nodded. "But it will."

"Absolutely."

I don't know what is going to happen. It has been six months since I met Meha, and all the time that we spend together, on the phone, by email or in person, has only made me like her more. I don't know how this is going to end. She still loves her husband, and he has been seeking counselling. She moved out of her house for the last four months, but she and her husband are talking about her moving temporarily back in.

However this finishes, I know that it will be for the best, because I am not helping her for myself. It is hard for me; sometimes I just want to grab her and run, brainwash her into forgetting about her husband and staying with me. I know I could do it – I can see it in her eyes, questioning herself, wondering what life with me would be like. But it has to be her decision. She has to make it without me interfering. She asked me last week if I was in love with her, and I answered her truthfully – I was definitely attracted to her, and could fall in love with her given the right circumstances (read: if she wasn't married). It's all up to her now – and I hope that whatever she decides, we will both be happy.

Until then, I will continue touring the sub Indian continent with my laptop, trying out different coffees and meeting new people, living life out of a suitcase while restlessly pursuing an objective even I can't name.

A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND IS A.......TOILET

I ease back into my seat, making a slight farting noise and attwenty-five years old, I still blush defensively. M.F. Hussain's Starry Night hangs on the wall to my right, alongside a proudly framed master’s degree. Dr. Sen asks which one person I think knows me best. The toilet does, I tell him. I mean, I guess a toilet isn’t a realperson but it does have a mouth and it is forced to take shit all throughout its sad existence just like a real one... Dr. Sen keeps silent and after a long awkward pause I shrug to myself and continue.

My classic design, pearl white toilet with universal 16-1/8 inch rimheight, large water surface, powerful, quiet flushing by Hindware, and tiny seashells etched around its base, really knows my life story. Yes, I must’ve been two when I flushed down my old pacifier, just out of curiosity. What came of that was I got some harsh toilet training for the next few months, my mom thinking I was showing her my ‘readiness.’ Dr. Sen lets out a bored “humm” and I half expect him to drone on about Freud and ask if people consider me anal-retentive. Thankfully he doesn’t. Well, I go on.

Needless to say I soon became a regular acquaintance of my toilet. Our first emotional ordeal together came when I was in kindergarten. The goldfish I’d won from the school carnival had died from starvation. Two weeks later (during which “Goldie” was frozen in a zip-lock bag and me, frozen in denial), I was finally prepared to face his funeral. As Mom flushed Goldie down, my toilet gave many respectful moments of silence and even let me cry on its tank of a shoulder. Over the next couple of years many things took the windy, circular pathdown that toilet: my cousin’s toys, stolen candy I realized I couldn’t finish before getting caught, bad drawings of the rainbow (the colors were all out of order, my dad had criticized), raw cauliflower stuffed into a napkin from dinnertime, B complex vitamins, and countless bugs I got tired of watching trying to doggie-paddle out.

Then when my parents separated I took it upon myself to do away with her wedding ring. The echo-ey clinks it made against the toilet bowl were celebratory. Mom and I, we both knew she knew what had happened to it; I think she was grateful. I was ten or eleven when I first tried out a tampon. I snicker with myself, wondering what Dr. Sen's thinking. I had no idea what they were for, but I knew enough from Mom to end uptossing one down my pants, walking around with it for awhile, then flushing it and getting another one. A good deal of time passed before she found out what I was doing, but for that while I was a grown-up and the toilet was a witness. Jr. High, a couple report cards had to go down, but with an especiallydrawn-out hiss, my toilet totally agreed that those certain teachers actually were horribly unfair. By my high school years I had trust in my toilet (though it did give me a case of potty-mouth one year), so I confided in it one night, asking for advice about my boyfriend. The next morning, it gave me truly the clearest advice I’ve ever gotten since then: that dear toilet allowed a good-sized rat to crawl out from it. I remember standing there as the rat shook his wetness off, Mom screeching like a wild monkey behind me, and thinking Yeah, he is a rat, isn’t he? I’ll break up with him tomorrow.

I stop and attempt to crane my neck back to check what Dr. Sen is doing. His jaded gray eyes stare back at me, eyebrows raise, and the personalized pen he’s holding swings back and forth sternly, motioning for me to turn around. I’m getting annoyed and honestly, bored of this. I take in a deep breath and sigh; I recite the rest to him. So, when I was nineteen Mom died in a car accident, I kept the house and married some old guy—that would be Dhruv—to help pay the bills. Then I wanted a baby so I flushed all our condoms and pills down the toilet. Next were the various pregnancy tests I had to keep secret. An accident and nine months later, I’m nagging him to quit smoking, and down goes ten packs of cigarettes. That took countless flushes; my toilet’s quiet flush feature was even wearing away. And he hasn’t even quit. Anyway, I suppose all my life I’ve been hiding the truth from myself, crippling myself to never be able to face anything, rejecting all I slightly dislike away and down the toilet with a comforting flush. I mean, is the toilet really my best friend, my only friend? Do you think I need to stop this before I let my entire life go down the toilet? Help!!!!

I twist my neck back again and see Dr. Sen checking his tacky goldwatch. “Well, your hour’s up—I’ll be vacationing for the next two weeks, here’s my business card, and you can make a second appointment with my secretary anytime.” He smiles and nods sympathetically as he says this, like he’s doing me a favor. I stop by Spencer's Mall on my way home. I pick up four bowl-freshener discs(mountain spring scented), a Warmlet brand seat heater for Rs 4500, a pink furry seat cover accessory, and oh, a brand new plunger too. I know it’ll be hard on my dear toilet to take in two bodies, even if one of them is child-sized.