Authors: Beatone Hajong
“Whose photograph is that” Isha crackled.
“It’s Anannya”.
“Let me have a look” she was curious to glance at it.
She snatched from my hand and protruded her constant gaze at the photograph.
“Hey” I sighed.
She peeked her eyes close at me, her face more or less crinkled in deep silent “She’s beautiful”.
I nodded my head with some memories evoked.
“Keep it safe”.
“Yeah” as my hand directed to place it inside. I could surely feel the convolution that gathered around me flashing back the days and the absence of her. Besides Isha, She was a part of the present. She clung my hand “let’s move out”.
“But, where” I sighed.
“Anywhere our step takes”.
I slightly tried to widen my lips to reflect back her a smile. Our steps added together and walked out from the front door. The guard on the other side pulled the glass door from outside. And we headed out for the day with no knowledge of the subways but to wander around where our footsteps carried us. Neither we planned for a particular visit of any place. We kept moving out until our sight disappeared from our tall highly raised hotel. The city traffic rapidly increased as the day kept glowing. I could watch the road jam with vehicles blowing out in loud decibels.
“Do we need to cross road on the other side” with my tempting voice.
“Are you afraid of the four wheeler” she cracked a fun.
“No...I think we need to have breakfast” I muttered.
“Yes...need some nourishment” with her chuffed voice.
We looked for a restaurant. So, easily available it was, we got accustomed and finally found a lovely breakfast restaurant. She led me by the way. Pushed the door and asked me to follow her. She took the adjacent table that had access to view outside through the glass wall. She settled a chair for herself and offered me the other one. I took my seat before her like the one yesterday. She was murmuring out reading the menu card. She quietly peeked at me. I kept myself gentle with no sound of my voice.
“What happen you’re quiet” she paid an interest of her tone at me.
I shrugged “I’m fine”.
“So ,what’s the menu for today”.
“Well, I pass a choice to you”.
She once again happened to give a thorough look at the menu card.
“Ahhhh!!! Sandwich. Will it be ok”.
“Anything you feel” with my supportive gesture.
She calls for the waiter and placed the order. Some bread toast, milk and fruits were also part of the breakfast plate.
“So, what you got for me”.
“What” being surprise by her casual tone.
“Actually I’m here on for some information to write”.
“Oh! So you’re writing on Indian Culture” I apprehended with interest.
“How did you know that” her eye brow raised.
“Just a guess thought” I squinted.
She laughed at my judgement. “You’re absolutely right. I’m doing a project on Indian culture”. “Wow!! That’s great work. I would really love to read your book”.
“I got one more thing to do” she added.
“What’s that” I intended to know.
“You got to share your story to me” her tone gets serious.
“What..no ..no way.
“You are going to script it” she said.
“Well, here’s the deal”.
“What deal” I said.
Isha placed her hand on the table. She was very formative and instructive with her talk. She constantly pricked at me through her outburst ideas which she wanted me to inculcate.
“You know one thing....you Americans are mean minded”.
“Hahaha!!!!! That’s not acceptable. You’re wrong. You Indians are crap by nature”.
“Oh! C’mon stop this Irrelevant conversation” sharpening my tone at her.
The waiter finally served us with the breakfast.
“I’m Sorry...for disgracing your nation” with an apologetic tone.
“It’s alright. Anyways my ancestor are Indians. They belong from this land”.
“Well, you were talking about some deal” I took a bite of sandwich.
“Yes! The deal is you are going to help me out in my project and I will process you out to write your love story” she said anxiously.
“What, you’re asking me to be a writer”.
“Yes I can see that. You love her a lot and you have intense love and affection which I can see” she squinted.
“No..way out. I can’t write”.
“Just try once” she commanded her voice.
“You can’t insist me to do that” taking a sip of my milk glass.
“Well then it’s fine. What’s the point of loving her so much when you couldn’t express your inner feelings to her”.
“Isha C’mon it’s not like that. She’s gone. She’s no more of mine. She’s got better person than me”.
“Show that better person that your love is a gift of God and the endless care for her that you’ve got”.
“Alright...alright. I’m here with you”.
“That’s a Man” she giggled taking a bite of an apple.
“You seem to be very obstinate girl”. She broke out into smile at my absolving comment.
“I know that” she squeaked.
Our breakfast still under process and there were still few eatables left on the plates. In the middle of such conversations she happened to peek her eyes many a times at me. I didn’t knew the inner concept she got about me after that day. Precisely she was exceptionally right in whatever she wanted me to do so. She wanted me to write out a book. Perhaps she knew that would relief me from deep accumulative haunting thoughts that I was bearing in my heart. But I was absolutely with no initiation on my mind. She was humble and wonderful with me. She has got the every talents that one needed to be a well equipped girl. Isha, in search of studying Indian heritage whereas me on the other hand thrown into new world of scripting a book.
“Are you lost in something” she fumbled her hand at me.
I shrugged “no”.
By now the table laid only with empty plates.
“So, the breakfast is over now. Where to move out next” with my assertive tone.
“I guess we should move to library today, what do you say”.
“That’s great Idea”.
“So, do you have any Idea where’s the central library”.
“I know one place The Asiatic Society Mumbai”.
“Well then lets bang out the day” she hit enthusiastically.
We were placed with the bill book on the table. Managed to pay out the cost of breakfast. We walked off through the same way through the entrance of the restaurant. I made a way out first pushed out the glass door and Isha immediately followed out. We grooved our steps together. She halted her glance at me.
“What’s wrong” I inquired in doubt.
She said nothing but clung my hand to walk on. “What’s the address” she asked as we moved out through the subway that led us into the pedestrian way. We followed the stairs that finally landed us to the underground way. Tunnels of subway with head directions were the only directive method we could follow to get out.
“It’s in the Shahid Bhagat Singh Marg Fort”.
“Well, I have no little idea about such place. Which way do we go now” she squinted.
“Just keep following my way”.
Her hand still clinging on my arm. I could feel her tight grip of her soft palm. We were almost out of the pedestrian way climbing up above the stairs. So finally we were at the other side of the heavily traffic road. All we needed was to hire a taxi. I signalled one taxi raising my hand out. The cab immediately halted before us. I opened the door for Isha and let her get in first. I swiftly took beside her. I directed the driver to the exact location where were meant to go. With no delay we just accelerated. She carried nothing more than her handbag. Yet she looked completely materialised. Maybe it was the effect of her million dollar scent which she sprayed before getting out. Inside and outside I could only grasp the strong smell of her scent that violently spread into the air. Not only that, perhaps I was in a state of compromising things with her. In fact, I liked her as good female personality. She glanced at me as our cab moved on.
“Were you thinking something” she hinted at me as there occurred silence within us for long. Every time she tried to crisscross me with some sort of question it shuddered me. I put myself into some silence for seconds to reply at her words “No...nothing on my mind”.
She shift closer to me. The car accelerated faster. The time at my wrist watch kept circling. I glanced once to know what’s the hour. It’s the 1:00pm noon. Yet to reach the final spot of destination. Road shaping straight and curving away and the sudden turn of its wheel setting us back together colliding our body with each other as the steering turned on.
“That’s awesome drive” Isha managed to heckle.
“Ouchhh!!!!” she screamed softly as my body collided with her following the turn of the taxi wheel. It was almost hour drive to the library. The distance came closer and shortened. Finally we reached the library entrance. The car stopped it’s engine. Pushed my hand to open the door. I laid aside as I was out of car for Isha to make a way out. The fare meter collected the taxi fare and swift away. We stood under the roof of huge building, few steps ahead the doorway to the entrance of the library. We generated our walk to head on. Before the entrance we had to make out a permit pass. There was an office before the main door, placed aside for every people to distribute passes entrance for all. We need not to stand in queue as there were rare crowds unlike any mall or cinema hall. I granted for two passes for each. And headed on to move through the hugely designed glass door. I had to apply slightly more stamina to open the hard stable glass door. I kept holding it until Isha completely in with me. It seemed the library was constructed with rare design with lots of empty spaces all around. Some historical monumental sculpture engraved on the walls and those of heavy pillars that stood upright and strong. We were searching for the cultural section for Isha’s thesis on Indian heritage.
“Is this thesis of yours going to get published out” I ruled on my voice.
“Yeah, I would love to do that” she replied as we moved on to the cultural section stepping up above those stairs to the next floor.
We avoided using the elevator. Her hand bag hanged from her shoulder and I could see it’s vibrating movements due to her motion as she walked on and me behind following her. We came though aisle of racks filled with books and still we were on search for the one that Isha needed.
“Is it something you are going to extract out” I put out my interest to know.
“Yeah! You can say that” she shrugged.
She finally stopped before a huge rack filled with volume of pages.
“Wow...it’s incredible” my voice fumbled looking at those genres of collection under the metallic cupboard.
Isha sparked out in cloud of realm joy. Without wasting much time she quickened to begin the search of a book that would provide her houseful of information about Indian rich heritage culture. I could thorough her curiosity at her face, the depth of her interest in knowing Indian culture. Since her childhood she was brought up just like the other American. Yet beyond dream to think about, that she took the chance to know about her ancestor. I was tentatively overwhelmed and impressed by her such area of activity. She asked me to join the search, a small helping contribution she wanted.
“Hey! Could you help me out for sorting out the best book” she stretched her eyes wide looking at the huge metallic rack.
“Sure” I admitted with no detention.
So we began our search from the bottom row with all the books settled decoratively row wise. I cruised my finger tips swiftly through the lining of books settled in alphabetical order. Those with huge size I seized to have a look flipping some pages of it.
“So, tell me something about Anannya” Isha squinted plucking a book out of rack.
“Well, She was beautiful”.
“Yes I do know that. I’ve seen her photograph”.
“What else more you want to know” I jerked.
“Everything about her”.
She held a book in her hand flipping some pages out of it. Perhaps she got the necessary article which she needed. She stood looking at my side. I stood stable leaning against the metallic rack with my hands folded crisscross.
“So, tell me about her” her voice shrilled out again.
“Hmmmmmm!!!!!!!”.
“What!!! Hmmmm!!!!” she mocked.
For that moment literally I felt not to words out about Anannya. Kept myself mum at any quest of question Isha demanded about her. I felt it would be much better going back and tell her the every detail about the girl I love. Somehow I could diverge the topic of our discussion.
“Did you get the book material” I asked her.
She smiled tentatively for she knew my intentions of denying to talk about Anannya.
“Yeah! I found the necessary article” she grinned.
“Let’s move out then”.