Red blue green and magenta. It was an odd combination of colours for a bangle set. But they seemed to suit her hands. It was almost sunset and the heavens were pouring down heavily. It seemed that nature was crying over the lossess – those irrevocable ones. The rains were heavy this year. Perhaps the heaviest of what I have seen in three years. Mumbai is still a bit unfamiliar to me. Her streets and the life that flows through her veins- it’s all a bit sophisticated. May be a bit too sophisticated for me to comprehend in three whole years of my life here.
This land, with its magical illusions, lures anyone who comes across her. Lit and unlit, there are many places here where life goes on without much of a complaint. There is no silence. But suffocation and doubts. Doubts that makes every breath heavy. And where I stand right now is one of them, lit with a street light that casts longer shadows of the shorter men.
Without an umbrella to take me home, all I could do standing there was to observe the life around me. And I observed.
She seemed unaware of the rains and I guess of all the world around. Lost in thought, her dark eyes reminded me of the old Bollywood actresses. Beautiful she was yet lifeless. There was sadness in her smile – I could see.
The heavily decorated purple saree , seemed a little misplaced for the time being. It was pouring down and people tried their best to put on the worst dress they had. And there she was-dressed in the most charming way. Interesting- I felt.
She was standing right next to me and I could sense the smell of her perfume. Feminine. There were only three more people in the shade, taking refuge from the rain and they seemed to be highly occupied with the act of cursing the rain. And the rest of us, we were lost in thoughts. It was a different feeling, observing a woman. I had never done that before. I felt a huge urge to talk to her. But I was afraid. I felt funny at the thought of it. I was afraid if she would mistake me, or she wouldn’t like it. I felt nervous that the act may spoil this beautiful friendship. I was being childish. Or crazy. I don’t know.
“Where do you wanna go? “, she asked.
Surprised at the question, I answered in a ‘made-up bold tone’, “Andheri.”
She fell silent. Disappointed.
“What about you?”
“ Mmm.. Nowhere I guess.”
That was quite a strange answer and I felt that she was making fun of me. But then I realized that it wasn’t so. Within a very short time she started talking, as if to a long-lost friend and everytime she asked a question, I saw her eyes sparkle. I saw a genuine curiosity.
She was glad she made a friend. And I was glad she spoke to me. For the first time in my life I felt someone was happy for me. I felt fond of her.
Natasha. That was her name. A name that I would never forget from then. With an apple smile on her face, she asked me, “What about your family? “
“ Well no one like that I guess. “
A faint smile.
I asked her about her family. An unexpected answer. A bit surprising too.
“Glad I have none.”
How could she say that ! Blunt. But I felt tenderness for her.
I looked up and saw no stars. They were hiding. Hiding behind the dark clouds. Smiling among themselves. Singing. Watching over the world and laughing at our hidden desires. I wished she would take me as her family.
Her voice startled me. “ What do you do? “
“ A teacher.”
A dull smile this time. And her hands reached for her bag, avoiding my face.
“ You?”
A dull smile again. But hidden partly. “ I sell myself.”
A water droplet sparkled on her red bhindhi.
The rain stopped.