Chapter 5 Part 2:
The women of the paper blizzard
At Rajan's House
When Manish ji
reached home it was still light. The days were longer, but he had also gotten
home earlier than usual. Mr. and Mrs. Tharun n Hema Veeramani were chatting
with Shilpa ji. Rushi n Ashrita were playing. After having tea they all decided
to go to near by park with kids.
While Rushi and
Ashritha were playing, elders were chatting. Manish ji was asking about Tharun
veeramani's business progress. He inturn asked Manish ji abt the case. Shilpa
ji was reminding them of Rushi's b'day party which was near and they were
thinking of how to arrange and all.
Rushi who was
listening to that suddenly came running and was asking the gifts he wanted.
Ashirtha started teasing him saying Rushi is always at a "Rush" while he was
calling her as "Ash". Both of them had fight regarding that.
The elders stopped
them from fighting. Manish ji promised him for the gifts he asked while Shilpa
ji was stopping him to promise as he had enough of what he asked.
All had a good
laugh.
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Location: Book
Store
Mr. Syam, owner of
a publication company, finished his work at office and entered a book store
near the office. He passed a young woman walking on the side walk. The light
from a display window shone in bands illuminating her profile. He thought he
had seen her some where before.
He kept walking
towards the bookstore and looked at the new releases. He wandered farther back
into the shop, scanning the shelves aimlessly. His attention was caught by a
book entitled "Have a Pleasant trip". The instant he saw the book he
remembered.
He had seen her not
long before, on a train on his way back from Bareily to Lucknow. The second class compartment was empty.
The girl had gotten on at sitapur and taken a seat next to the window facing him but across the
aisle. She had a pretty face. Although she wasn't wearing expensive clothes,
she wore her clothes with flair.
He had gone to
Bareily on a business so it must be in the mid of January. It was a night train,
and though it was not hot in the compartment, she had opened her window half
way as soon as they pulled out of Sitapur. But if that were all, he might not have
remembered.
He was startled out
of this recollection when he felt someone tapping him on his shoulder.
He turned around
and saw Mr. Karthik, a friend and business partner of Syam.
K: What were you
thinking about? You looked as if you were far, far away.
S: How about having
a cup of coffee with me?
K: (Sipping coffee
in the brightly lit coffee shop) What were you thinking about so seriously
in the bookstore?
S: I wasn't really
thinking. I was trying to remember something. I'd just passed a girl on the
street that I had seen somewhere on a trip.
K: Sounds interesting.
I'd like to hear about it even if it's not interesting. Go on, tell me about
it.
S: I had been bored
with the long train ride that evening. Perhaps it was because he was bored that
his attention had been drawn to the young woman who had gotten on at Sitapur. Besides her hand bag she carried another
small canvas bag, like the ones stewardesses use.
After leaving Sitapur, the train ran through a lonely
mountainous area. At first the girl read a book. Then, when the train passes,
she opened the window wide. I noticed this because it had let in a cold draft.
The girl stared out
of the window. Because it was dark, she couldn't have been looking at the
scenery. Other than the occasional lonely light from a distant house, there was
nothing but a succession of black mountains. I thought that perhaps she hadn't
ridden this train very often. Since she had gotten on at Sitapur, I guessed first that she was from Sitapur, traveling to Lucknow on a pleasure trip. But her clothing
seemed too sophisticated. She had on an ordinary black suit, but she wore it
stylishly. She had to be from Lucknow after all. From the side, her face was
thin, and she had a slender figure.
I had turned back
to the book I had been reading. But before I could finish one page, the girl
once again attracted my attention. She put the canvas bag on her lap and opened
it, and then took something white out of it and began throwing it out the train
window. The wind whipped in as the train rushed forward. The girl stuck her
hand out the window and continued tossing something out. She did this all the
way from Khairabad to the next station.
Then she went back
to reading her book. But after the train started and somewhere between, she put
the book down and again started throwing away whatever it was she had in her
bag. I was curious. Pretending I was going to the rest room, I walked to the
end of the compartment. I looked out from the back of the compartment and saw
small, white pieces of paper being tossed by the wind, making a kind of
blizzard. I thought she was fighting boredom by this innocent mischief and
smiled at her childishness.
I returned to my
seat. I picked up my book and tried to continue reading, but the girl kept
distracting me. As the train moved in the next station, she again put her had
in the bag and started scattering another paper blizzard.
The train reached
next station; some new passengers entered the compartment. Among them was a fat
man about fifty yrs old who looked around the compartment and finally sat down
in front of this girl.
Casually, I
continued to watch the girl. She seemed a bit perplexed now that there was
someone sitting in front of her. Yet she did not move to close the window.
After the train had passed several stations, she again began scattering small
pieces of white paper out into the darkness. The man across from her grimaced
because of the cold wind blowing on him from the window, but he just looked at
the girl and said nothing.
After a while, she
closed the window. She was now engrossed in her book. Thinking that they were
finally nearing Lucknow, I looked up and saw that the man was
talking to the girl. His attitude seemed a shade to amiable. It seemed that he
was the one forcing the conversation, while she offered monosyllabic responses.
The two couldn't
have known each other. The man had boarded the train long after the young
woman. He seemed to be chatting with her just to pass the time. But to me it
did not appear to be a case of casual conversation. The man was very insistent.
He took out a pack of cigarettes, but she shook her head. Next he pulled out
some chewing gum, but she wouldn't take any gum. The man took this refusal as
mere politeness and pressed her again to have some gum. She finally gave in and
took a piece, but didn't unwrap it. The man became increasingly obnoxious. He
causally stretched out his legs towards hers. Startled, she drew her legs in.
Pretending not to notice, the man kept is legs stretched out and continued
talking to her.
I heard about young
girls being bothered on trains by middle-aged men. I decided to interfere if
the man continued to annoy her. Although I tried to read my book, I was unable
to concentrate on it. I kept watching the situation. She clearly looked
irritated, but the man persisted.
Gradually the
lights of Lucknow appeared. Some passengers started to take
their bags down from the overhead racks. The obnoxious man was still talking.
The girl didn't have to worry about her luggage because all she had was the
small case. When the train reached the station, the girl greeted the man and
stood up. He stood up as well and quickly whispered something to her. She
blushed and rushed toward the door. The man hurried after her.
I closed my book
and stood up. The train slid into the platform. I walked to the door. The man
was standing close behind her, right up against her. He was still murmering in
her ear. It was clear that he was trying to get her to go somewhere with him.
That's why I
remembered her.
K: what an
interesting story. I've heard that there's an increasing number of such rude
men.
S: I was appalled.
I'd heard about them, but this was the first time I had seen one in action.
K: but I'm more
interested in the young girl and the paper blizzard she was creating. You said
it seemed mischievous, but to me it seems poetic.
S: Perhaps it was.
I was more upset by the man's behaviour.
K: it's interesting
that you couldn't remember her when u saw her, but recalled this in the
bookstore. As u told it was in mid of Jan almost 4 months passed. Why don't we publish this in our magazine? Let's make it to be a
light essay so that it will be interesting for the people who read it. As u
were present at the incident why don't we publish it on ur name?
S: On my name! No
way. U know I won't like such things. U better do it as a general topic.
K: In that case I
will publish it on my name as if I were there and I saw the blizzard thing and
all. Don't worry I won't take ur name.
S: Fine. Readers
will like it better that way. How about saying that u took a fancy to the girl
urself?
K: That'd be
terrible. Then I would sound like a dirty man. And was she beautiful?
S: I guess you'd
say she was. She was on the slender side. And she had a charming face.
K: Yes, well. By
the way, how is Swetha doing? Heard that she is very busy with her research
these days?
S: She is fine. Yes
she is very busy. Ok then will meet u in the office 2moro.
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Near Park
Manish Ji and rest
of them went to near by restaurant, had dinner and retuning home.
When they were on
their way to home they saw the young women who moved in to the apartment building
recently. She was just entering the building.
"She is the girl
who moved into the apartment" Hema ji said to them.
T: Oh the young
actress ri8.
H: Actually she is
not actress. She works as a clerk in the Avanthi Theater. As she is has very
pretty face people thought she is an actress.
When they looked at
her she already disappeared into the apartment building.
M: What would be the
pay scale for a clerk? Is anyone helping her in paying rent, as it's difficult
for her to pay 6k every month?
S: Don't know much
about her but the building manager says that she won't speak much.
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Polly, a clerk at
the Avanthi Theater, entered her apartment on the second floor. It was dark
inside. She had just moved in, but already the air inside felt different. She
was relieved to feel it surround her.
Her apartment was
newly built and arranged for efficiency. Polly turned on the radio, keeping the
volume down. The radio helped to keep her company. She had looked in her
mailbox on the way up the stairs, but there was nothing, not even a postcard.
She prepared some
dinner. The room that had seemed empty suddenly gained some warmth. On this small
scale, the process of living had begun. She had some tea after the dinner and
sat idly for a while. The radio was pouring out music. It was not the kind she
liked, but she felt too lonely to turn it off.
Polly went to her
desk and took out a notebook. She turned on the lamp but could not begin to
write. She rested her chin on her hand, motionless. She could not shape her
thoughts easily into sentences.
She heard footsteps
in the hallway. They stopped in front of her door. She heard a knock.
It was the
apartment manager's wife. She said: Polly, u have a phone call.
Polly frowned
because it was too late to be receiving phone calls. She said: I'm sorry. Thank
you.
She followed the
woman down the hallway. The telephone was in the manager's apartment on the
first floor.
She apologized.
When the door to their apartment opened, she could see the manager reading the
news paper. Polly greeted him.
The telephone
receiver had been left off the hook. Polly put the receiver to her ear. "Hello
this is Polly speaking. Who's calling?" She asked. She did not seem pleased at
the answer.
"What are u calling
for?" she listened and then said, "No, u can't. Please don't."
With the apartment
manager and his wife right there, she kept her voice low. The call was from a
man. The manager and his wife were trying to circumspect, but since they were
sitting next to her, they could overhear the conversation.
"That would present
a problem for me." Polly sounded very perturbed. It was unclear what the man at
the other end was asking for, but from her responses, it seemed clear that she
was refusing. Over the telephone, the man seemed to persist. She responded, "I
can't," of "That would be difficult for me."
After about three
minutes, she hung up the telephone.
She thanked them
and left the room. She returned to her room and stood listlessly, a sad
expression on her face. Polly stared out the window, thinking. The lights of
the street blurred against the night sky. There were few stars. Polly closed
the curtain and returned to her desk. She opened her notebook, grasped her pen
and sat lost in thought for a while, her chin on her hand. She started to writ,
pausing often to think. She wrote a line, and then crossed it out.
"Must love be a
lonely thing? Our love has lasted for five years. Yet nothing has been built
from this love. It will probably continue on in vain. Forever, he says. The
futility of this love tastes empty and feels like grains of sand slipping
through my fingers. At night, despair haunts my dreams."
She heard some one
whistle a tune, passing back and forth outside her window. She looked up from
her notebook. Stood up and without looking outside, she turned off the light.
He kept this up for
about 20 mins and finally gave up and walked back to the main street, looking
back at the apartment building. He entered a near by hotel and ordered
something. The waitress over there was murmuring something with other waiters'.
Then smiling, she approached the man and asked: "Pardon me. Could u possibly be
Karan chopra, the artist from Avanthi Theater?"
He reluctantly
admitted, "Yes I'm."
The woman said: "I
thought so. Excuse me, but would u please autograph this for me?"
She held out her
well-worn notebook. He grudgingly took out a pen and signed his name.
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