It was only five o’ clock in the evening, an hour before
sundown, but it strangely felt like midnight. The sky was dark; marred beyond
recognition by vast expanses of grey encroaching upon it from all corners. The
wind moaned as it made its way through the branches, crying like a lost kitten
in the gutter. Giant bags of precipitation hovered threateningly as vendors
slammed their shutters, in a hurry to get back home. The streets were bereft of
humanity, while baffled birds screamed in fear of the apocalypse.
Sam remembered hearing about a hurricane in the news that
morning. It was supposed to be the worst that hit the country that season. The meteorological
department had issued warnings, requesting citizens to stay home that evening.
They had predicted persistent thundershowers for the next three days. Children
were celebrating, as schools across town remained shut. Sam didn’t pay
attention as the newsreader read the words shooting across the teleprompter out
loud; his eyes blank, his voice tinged with apathy. He couldn’t remember the
last time when the weatherman was right. He chuckled over his morning bowl of
cereal, as he skimmed through the pages of the daily, more out of habit than interest.
He had only one thing on his mind. Tea at four. With Meera.
And there they were, walking down the cobbled pavement, an
hour after tea, immersed in conversation, oblivious to nature’s hysterics.
Meera was taking him to a ‘special place’, and he couldn’t wait to see it. He
followed her lead, passing through silent alleys and dubious neighbourhoods,
hanging onto every word that came out of her mouth. He had never met anyone who
could gauge his attention that effortlessly. Meera walked on talking about her
favourite movies and her strange obsession with suicidal heroines. She felt their
loneliness calling out to her from the covers of shimmering gossip magazines,
as they stood smiling on the red carpet amidst a frenzy of flashing cameras. She
asked Sam if he thought she was insane and laughed carelessly. Sam smiled back
sheepishly and asked,
“So how far is this place?”
“We’re almost there.”
Sam knew her disposition to tease. “Are we?” he said in
doubt.
“Don’t worry. I’m not Jack the Ripper.”
Sam laughed at the thought of how ridiculous it sounded.
They took a bend in the road and reached a clearing, and what seemed like a
dead end. But that was not what Sam found disturbing. A row of unclaimed graves
lay scattered before them. There were no names. No epitaphs. No religious
signatures. Just a bunch of mounds with stark headstones. Sam had a million
thoughts racing across his mind, his heart thumping in his chest noisily. Why would Meera bring him here? It seemed
awfully morbid, and if it was her idea of a joke, it was terribly unfunny. He
was dying to ask her why but couldn’t bring himself to do it. She walked by the
graves, looking down at them wistfully; the melancholy in her eyes made it seem
like she knew all those who lay beneath their feet. Sam followed her without a
word. A plethora of weeds fed off the forgotten men.
They walked past the nameless dead silently and came to an opening in
the wall. Sam wondered what lay beyond the moss-eaten bricks. Meera bent down
and stepped into the gaping hole. Sam waited on the other side. His heart was
beating too fast, and he wasn’t ready to see what was on the other side. Not
yet. Maybe it was nothing and nothingness is terrifying. He closed his eyes for
a moment to calm his nerves.
“Are you coming?” he heard Meera calling out to him.
He decided to take a leap of faith and walked through the
crevice. A gust of wind struck his face. It was so strong that he could barely
keep his eyes open. He looked into the distance and saw Meera, standing with
her back to him. A vast expanse of raging water lay sprawling before her. The
ocean thundered as they stood there paralyzed; humbled by its enormity. The
waves thrashed against the shore like a caged animal, maddened by the call of
the wild. They walked towards the water. The sand felt cold, as it nestled
between their toes. It seemed like the end of the world, and they, the last two
standing. Sam felt a drop of water on his arm, as if someone had pricked a
brimming cloud. And then another one fell on his head. And as they looked up,
the rain came cascading down; soaking their cotton shirts, seeping through
their skin, invading their veins.
-------------------------------------
Sam handed out a towel to Meera. As he stood there dripping
from head to toe, he observed her, bunching up strands of her drenched hair and
coaxing the raindrops out of them. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
Meera looked up and noticed him staring at her; one unwavering gaze. She went
over to his bed and sat next to him.
“So what now?”
They hadn’t shared a word in the last hour. The moment was
too big for banter. And now, that lone question hung awkwardly in the air. Sam
had no answer. So what now? He bent
over and kissed her softly. He expected her to hold back but she didn’t. She
gave in; with gratitude. The room was too dark and Sam wanted to see her face.
As he ran his fingers through her hair and down her back, he reached out for
the lamp. Meera clutched his wrist to stop him.
“What happened?”
“Can we keep the lights off please?”
Sam didn’t know how to respond.
Meera sensed his apprehension. “It’s more gratifying to find each other” she said.
