What Happened By The Day.
View of the city from the 7th floor of the office building was placid. The backwaters near the horizon, standing still in the burning noon stood in contrast to the fast moving city and to that of the swift changing sky. Dev’s ass was numb in the air conditioned office room. His job was simple. He needed to make phone calls, to customers of his bank. Introduce them to the ‘most exciting offer you will ever have’.
Today he had no phone calls to make. He was free, as some auditing work was going on at the bank. His mates went on to see a movie in the nearby theatre. He was alone in the office. His office, that used to stock a lot of genuinely commercial ‘most exciting offer you will ever have’, today had ceased to be commercial.
He was enjoying the view outside his office. His mates used to say that it was much beautiful at night. That the city reflects herself in the dark water. He too thought so. With gold dust sprinkled over her dark body and the diamond at her bellybutton. With the smell of the dirt covered white flowers born near the ‘spit’ stained mane of her. She used to decorate herself for the night creatures. For those pervert white collared youth who with their asses numb go to find ‘distilleries of pleasure’. She willingly dances so that she too could forget her miseries with them. With the night creatures. Yes, the seductive beauty. The forgiveness and the calmness. The city by night was a woman.
But Dev liked the view when the sun was up. The sweating city was so manly. The crowd hustling through the streets bargaining with the commercial providers of service sounded like the heavy breath of a man to Dev’s ears. The city, who adorns the weight of being so small. Containing all the smoke that whirls in his lungs, which intoxicates him to go further. Smoke which scorches his throat, makes him thirsty and addicted to it. He toils forgetting the present for the future with hovering tension of his past mistakes. His sweat so sensuous, does not retard him a bit of his daily chores. Yes, the impetuous behaviour. The strength and the survival. The city by day is a man.
His thoughts were gathering momentum as that of a speeding wind. His brows were frowned and his eyes were glowing. Suddenly as that, the wind ceased. Wave like flesh became faded straight lines, and his face bony and protruding again. The glow was gone. A women’s feeble sound, was singing a song out of Dev’s heart region. Dev fished out his mobile from his pocket. He had a short message from Sara. The message was simple, it read “ My dear daydreamer, v meet, v part, v meet again. Same place & same time.”
Sara was his close friend. An amusing friend of his. She was much arrogant ,rude ,misbehaving. No one has ever had a live relationship with her more than two weeks except Dev. She never made things clear. Always left something for the next time. Both of them used to meet each other at their favourite place, a tea stall on the border of land and water. There they used to sit for most of the evenings and debate over every issue there could be. Absurdities and frivolities ruled the conversations. Poems and quoting were recent visitors in those two little heads. In silence they would watch the sunset and applaud aloud for the day they believed was a man. In silence they would walk away from the lustrous woman. Some times the wind that blew away the dust off the white flowers joined both their hands together. Dev used to think that it was because of Sara he began to believe that, night was a woman. She was beautifully dark and lustrous. She too decorated her with fresh white flowers. She even had pierced a shining stone at her belly button. Once she had allowed him to feel the ring there. And yes it was there. Sara was more than a friend to him. She was what night was to day. What evil was to good. She was the factor of existence to him. For him, it was she who created the evening so beautiful and memorable. If she was not there the evening would be nothing different. He loved her.
The internal time keeper reminded Dev he had to move his numb ass and get out of the glass cages, pass through the hot muscular body of the city, meet Sara and applaud the miracle that happens everyday with a new meaning, a new colour. His legs ached when blood began to reach them. That slowed down his pace of walking. The city pavements had red tiles and shadow blacks scattered here and there. The dust over the roads never settled, and hawkers and peddlers were on rest, before they had to pack up for the day. Dev always saw men who slept on the pavement and he thought how calm and peaceful they were. They never had a worry that the passer by, would falsely hide the emotion of having seen the nakedness of their body and life. They must be damn bold to lie there challenging the onlookers of the ease they have taken life with. A herculean task for people like Dev. His bottom began to sense things once again.
The bustling city was always the same. Traffic jams, lottery ticket sellers, shopper’s gapes, boyfriends and girlfriends, construction sites. You never get to see a change even though every minute it is moulding into a new shape. Dev turned to a pocket road where fresh vomit was being added up by drunkards. He moved on and came to halt where white flower’s spread their smell better than vomit. He gazed upon them for sometime and then plucked a few. He put those white flowers in between his fingers as usual. The flowers were as smooth as his fluffy hand. He walked forward to the main street with the flowers clutched in his hand. He could see red flags fluttering, and white and white, starched and ironed dressed, ant march, in the main road. The police had barricaded the protesters and were ready with their long cane dangling on their wrists which was often used to poke their sweaty back or to tap on others thighs. These were daily happenings and were of no importance to Dev. He didn’t even care to vote, or to mind the scam which was what, a politician ever did. Make scams and media hypes. To hell with them, Dev was trying to cross the road through the starched ant procession.
The commotion had started even before Dev saw the red flags fluttering. It was as if he had been, too lost in his thoughts, to hear the screaming and shouting ants waving to other ants, to attack. The scrambling ants took no notice of the other species that was caught in between their little act for justice/survival. The police started to do what they liked to do the most with their multi purpose canes. The protest had turned in to a clash, in which a daydreamer was stuck as a fly in the web of a spider. Dev tried to push off every person who was trying to push him. His hands were clutched tight and raised to protect his face. The protesters forgot their holy aim and they ran away. The police began to enjoy their duty and privilege of striking as hard as possible, the plumpest protester under the fluttering black shadow of the red flag. Dev was escaping the web, but couldn’t resist stopping for a second, to stare the crushed red ant and the red blood and the red flag. That was enough time for the multi purpose cane to find a great spot on Dev’s body. His senses began to burn with pain. He wanted to tell potbellied man and his weapon the whole ideology of city life which crossed his mind repeatedly as the pain started. But all that came out was a cry. Another blow on his calves. By now, even the sound in him receded to his stomach. Dev fell down on the burning hot black asphalt of his friend, the city by day. Another blow on his bottom which had gained senses very recently, reminded him of the cushy chair in his office. How comfortable was he on them. Though they made his ass numb.
Before the policeman could complete his job satisfactorily he was distracted by another protestor who was half naked, and was trying to run away. The cane must have been tempted to see the thick, hairy and shivering thigh that it jumped to kiss it with all might. Dev was now weeping because of the pain. He couldn’t move as his legs were cramped and they were shivering uncontrollably. His hand was leaking blood, spilling it over the road. He opened his palm to find the white flowers had turned into red flowers. ‘Sara would love these red flowers’. He thought before closing his eyes. He also knew it was sunset. He knew he had lost a day with her, a new meaning with her, a new colour. The colour, red.
Somewhere far but not so far, on the border of land and water, a woman and two cups of tea waited in the backdrop of the setting sun in hope of arrival of a daydreamer caught in the middle of spider’s web. The woman with dark lustrous body sat there swinging her legs enjoying the beautiful sunset. She found it amusing that today the palette of heaven has the most striking colours getting mixed in them. Like red. She wholeheartedly prayed to god for him to come. With white flowers for her. But her hopes had to set with the sun. He never came that evening. When the sun was gone there were only two cups of tea left on the border. The wind whispered to nobody, ‘the gloom’ the night brought with her today.
Today he had no phone calls to make. He was free, as some auditing work was going on at the bank. His mates went on to see a movie in the nearby theatre. He was alone in the office. His office, that used to stock a lot of genuinely commercial ‘most exciting offer you will ever have’, today had ceased to be commercial.
He was enjoying the view outside his office. His mates used to say that it was much beautiful at night. That the city reflects herself in the dark water. He too thought so. With gold dust sprinkled over her dark body and the diamond at her bellybutton. With the smell of the dirt covered white flowers born near the ‘spit’ stained mane of her. She used to decorate herself for the night creatures. For those pervert white collared youth who with their asses numb go to find ‘distilleries of pleasure’. She willingly dances so that she too could forget her miseries with them. With the night creatures. Yes, the seductive beauty. The forgiveness and the calmness. The city by night was a woman.
But Dev liked the view when the sun was up. The sweating city was so manly. The crowd hustling through the streets bargaining with the commercial providers of service sounded like the heavy breath of a man to Dev’s ears. The city, who adorns the weight of being so small. Containing all the smoke that whirls in his lungs, which intoxicates him to go further. Smoke which scorches his throat, makes him thirsty and addicted to it. He toils forgetting the present for the future with hovering tension of his past mistakes. His sweat so sensuous, does not retard him a bit of his daily chores. Yes, the impetuous behaviour. The strength and the survival. The city by day is a man.
His thoughts were gathering momentum as that of a speeding wind. His brows were frowned and his eyes were glowing. Suddenly as that, the wind ceased. Wave like flesh became faded straight lines, and his face bony and protruding again. The glow was gone. A women’s feeble sound, was singing a song out of Dev’s heart region. Dev fished out his mobile from his pocket. He had a short message from Sara. The message was simple, it read “ My dear daydreamer, v meet, v part, v meet again. Same place & same time.”
Sara was his close friend. An amusing friend of his. She was much arrogant ,rude ,misbehaving. No one has ever had a live relationship with her more than two weeks except Dev. She never made things clear. Always left something for the next time. Both of them used to meet each other at their favourite place, a tea stall on the border of land and water. There they used to sit for most of the evenings and debate over every issue there could be. Absurdities and frivolities ruled the conversations. Poems and quoting were recent visitors in those two little heads. In silence they would watch the sunset and applaud aloud for the day they believed was a man. In silence they would walk away from the lustrous woman. Some times the wind that blew away the dust off the white flowers joined both their hands together. Dev used to think that it was because of Sara he began to believe that, night was a woman. She was beautifully dark and lustrous. She too decorated her with fresh white flowers. She even had pierced a shining stone at her belly button. Once she had allowed him to feel the ring there. And yes it was there. Sara was more than a friend to him. She was what night was to day. What evil was to good. She was the factor of existence to him. For him, it was she who created the evening so beautiful and memorable. If she was not there the evening would be nothing different. He loved her.
The internal time keeper reminded Dev he had to move his numb ass and get out of the glass cages, pass through the hot muscular body of the city, meet Sara and applaud the miracle that happens everyday with a new meaning, a new colour. His legs ached when blood began to reach them. That slowed down his pace of walking. The city pavements had red tiles and shadow blacks scattered here and there. The dust over the roads never settled, and hawkers and peddlers were on rest, before they had to pack up for the day. Dev always saw men who slept on the pavement and he thought how calm and peaceful they were. They never had a worry that the passer by, would falsely hide the emotion of having seen the nakedness of their body and life. They must be damn bold to lie there challenging the onlookers of the ease they have taken life with. A herculean task for people like Dev. His bottom began to sense things once again.
The bustling city was always the same. Traffic jams, lottery ticket sellers, shopper’s gapes, boyfriends and girlfriends, construction sites. You never get to see a change even though every minute it is moulding into a new shape. Dev turned to a pocket road where fresh vomit was being added up by drunkards. He moved on and came to halt where white flower’s spread their smell better than vomit. He gazed upon them for sometime and then plucked a few. He put those white flowers in between his fingers as usual. The flowers were as smooth as his fluffy hand. He walked forward to the main street with the flowers clutched in his hand. He could see red flags fluttering, and white and white, starched and ironed dressed, ant march, in the main road. The police had barricaded the protesters and were ready with their long cane dangling on their wrists which was often used to poke their sweaty back or to tap on others thighs. These were daily happenings and were of no importance to Dev. He didn’t even care to vote, or to mind the scam which was what, a politician ever did. Make scams and media hypes. To hell with them, Dev was trying to cross the road through the starched ant procession.
The commotion had started even before Dev saw the red flags fluttering. It was as if he had been, too lost in his thoughts, to hear the screaming and shouting ants waving to other ants, to attack. The scrambling ants took no notice of the other species that was caught in between their little act for justice/survival. The police started to do what they liked to do the most with their multi purpose canes. The protest had turned in to a clash, in which a daydreamer was stuck as a fly in the web of a spider. Dev tried to push off every person who was trying to push him. His hands were clutched tight and raised to protect his face. The protesters forgot their holy aim and they ran away. The police began to enjoy their duty and privilege of striking as hard as possible, the plumpest protester under the fluttering black shadow of the red flag. Dev was escaping the web, but couldn’t resist stopping for a second, to stare the crushed red ant and the red blood and the red flag. That was enough time for the multi purpose cane to find a great spot on Dev’s body. His senses began to burn with pain. He wanted to tell potbellied man and his weapon the whole ideology of city life which crossed his mind repeatedly as the pain started. But all that came out was a cry. Another blow on his calves. By now, even the sound in him receded to his stomach. Dev fell down on the burning hot black asphalt of his friend, the city by day. Another blow on his bottom which had gained senses very recently, reminded him of the cushy chair in his office. How comfortable was he on them. Though they made his ass numb.
Before the policeman could complete his job satisfactorily he was distracted by another protestor who was half naked, and was trying to run away. The cane must have been tempted to see the thick, hairy and shivering thigh that it jumped to kiss it with all might. Dev was now weeping because of the pain. He couldn’t move as his legs were cramped and they were shivering uncontrollably. His hand was leaking blood, spilling it over the road. He opened his palm to find the white flowers had turned into red flowers. ‘Sara would love these red flowers’. He thought before closing his eyes. He also knew it was sunset. He knew he had lost a day with her, a new meaning with her, a new colour. The colour, red.
Somewhere far but not so far, on the border of land and water, a woman and two cups of tea waited in the backdrop of the setting sun in hope of arrival of a daydreamer caught in the middle of spider’s web. The woman with dark lustrous body sat there swinging her legs enjoying the beautiful sunset. She found it amusing that today the palette of heaven has the most striking colours getting mixed in them. Like red. She wholeheartedly prayed to god for him to come. With white flowers for her. But her hopes had to set with the sun. He never came that evening. When the sun was gone there were only two cups of tea left on the border. The wind whispered to nobody, ‘the gloom’ the night brought with her today.
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