I’m rocking from side to side like a passenger in a train. Someone is shaking me awake. Opening my eyes just a third, I see a blurry
face poring over me - Aleya's, the girl with wide-set eyes and curly hair I
think I just met somewhere I cannot quite ascertain right away.
“Sorry to wake you up,” she says softly.
I manage to open my eyes fully, and sit up in my chair. “I’m sorry, what time is it?”
I hear strange, loud noises from outside.
“Two.”
Two am? Holy cow!
”You look uncomfortable in the chair. You are talking in your sleep. You need to sleep on a bed.”
My head is heavier
than a bowling ball. I have to go home and crawl into my bed. I stagger
unsteadily towards the door.
“Take it easy. There’s a storm outside. You’d rather stay here,” a male voice cuts into my head.
Ray Norgrum, in a holiday sweater and slacks, is picking up
empty glasses from the coffee table. We are inside his immaculate living room
with a vintage bookcase, a mantel with scented candles and framed
photographs, and a poster of a green valley on the opposite wall. A log fire
is crackling in the stone fireplace.
By now, my head is clearing up. I’m still not completely
awake yet, but I can piece together what had happened. There was a party, yes - a few hours ago, I waited in the dark
along with Ray’s many other friends preparing to spring the biggest surprise of
his life. And then? I cannot recall much.
Ray’s stupefied expression at the sight of
us leaping out of our hiding places, blank, dancing, blank, blank, and shots of
some kind of strong alcohol.
The awful noise outside must be the storm – howling,
and rattling. I look through the window behind me. Dark and grey, swirling
winds, and showering snow. There is no question I’m trapped here - alone with Ray
and Aleya. Awkward, to say the least.
“I’m sorry, I should have left earlier,” I say.
“Don’t apologize! We love your company – awake or snoring!” Aleya
laughs, brushing her curls back.
“C’mon,” I smile, “you two should be enjoying the evening
without my presence!”
Silence. Oh boy!
Aleya speaks first (mildly amused): “You think we are seeing
each other?”
Ray smiles, flashing his white chiseled teeth. “Buddy, she
is also stuck here. She drank too much, and just passed out.”
I look at Aleya again who is sealing the open bottles on the
dining table. She is delicately pretty with lustrous dark skin and pixie curls. Heck, she looks sober to me. I don’t believe them for a moment.
“I really must go!” I hurry to the door and yank it open. Whoosh! The wind almost sweeps me off my
feet. The party decorations tear off from the walls, a wine bottle spins and smashes
to the floor.
“Shut the door!” Ray pleads urgently.
I close the door, and turn around red-faced. Aleya is already
down on the floor to clear up the mess. I drop down on one knee to help her out
only to sense a huge rip - my pants tear
in the back, ripped asunder from stretching the leg! My night cannot get any worse.
I hop back up again and flop on the nearest chair taking great care not to display
my back side.
Aleya, who watched my comically strange behavior without
questioning, clears her throat.
“Whatever gave you the idea about Ray and me?” She says, looking
menacing with giant shards in her hands.
“I heard you two were
classmates in Calcutta.”
“Yes. But we never really got to know each other till the
last year. He was an introvert. Always studying.”
“And she was always hanging out with her Bengali circle.”
Ray says, sweeping the floor.
Aleya waves her hand - “Besides, Ray’s heart is in Shillong.
There is a girl. Isn't that right, Ray?”
“Don’t believe her!”
he adds, dumping the trash, “My heart is in Shillong! But not for a girl.”
“Ray!” Aleya exclaims. “The girl from your neighborhood!”
“If you are talking about Isa, it is over. I ran into her at
my father’s funeral.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s engaged to someone. It’s inappropriate to think of
her now as anyone but a friend.”
“I’m sorry – but what happened?” Aleya asks.
“Oh I’m fine. It is a long story. I will spare you the
details.”
“But we have the whole night! I’m dying to hear it!” Aleya
is pleading.
There are also two
bottles of good wine, and some Turkish delight.
Ray sits down with his glass. The alcohol is working on him.
He is normally humble and reserved, but I can sense he is pondering Aleya’s
request. He pinches his thin lower lip with his thumb and forefinger, and
smiles leaning forward:
“Only if we take turns.”
Aleya throws up her hands. “Hey, I’m a bore. I don’t have any
stories.”
Neither do I.
“Then, forget it!” Ray says, leaning back.
Aleya ponders for a moment. “No, wait! I don’t have a story,
but I will tell you a secret.”
“That is a deal! What about you?” he asks me.
I fidget, but give in – for another little secret.
Aleya claps: “Excellent! Let me get the drinks.”
Aleya picks up our wine glasses. She pours red wine for Ray.
She winks at me - and fills our glasses slyly with grape cider.
Ray is resting his head on his arm, as he looks far away. “When I close
my eyes at night, I hear the market, the sound of closing shutters, and the rickshaws
dragging empty wood pallets on the road. It is tiring. This job,” he says, “and my education
– are not the normal trajectory. Where I grew up, a career in Engineering was
unheard of.”
He describes Shillong, a Northeastern city, up in the rippling
green Khasi hills, surrounded by lakes and waterfalls. It is the town in the
poster hanging on his wall. But that’s
Shillong from the outside, he says.
“I grew up within, at the bazaar living with the sounds of
the mill grinding the flour, the din of bargaining, the odors of roasting meat
and fish. The seasonal rains soaked the stalls, created puddles all over, and flooded
the open gutters. The winters are cold and desolate with rolling mists and the
smell of kerosene heaters.
“My father ran the family bakery at the bazaar. My great-grand-uncle
started it as a modest little general store. Over the decades, it turned into a
bakery and my father grew it bigger than ever as a catering place for festivals
and weddings. We had a little shed in the backyard that was our factory, Pa
sometimes would let me watch while he prepared cupcakes himself. He was a
meticulous baker, experimenting and recording in his green-covered folder. I
remember he used to smile easily in those days.
“But, suddenly my mother died in a road accident. I
was just thirteen, my uncles and aunts helped take care of me. My father went
into a shock, business suffered until the day he snapped out of it when I brought in my yearly school report. I had topped my class head over shoulders. He read it quietly and looked me
straight with his piercing grey eyes.“
At this point, Ray jumps up to swipe a Karakul cap from the
bookcase. He puts it on and changes voice like a switch went off - it is a rough, abrasive voice:
“Raymond, you got cent
per cent in Math! No one in our family ever got more than 50%! When you grow
up, you shouldn't be a baker like me. You should be a gentleman with a fine salary.”
“He got back into work more devoted than ever – to save as much money as he can. He sent me off frequently to my aunt’s
little flat where I could study in relative peace.”
Ray pauses his story again, doffing the cap, to pour himself
another glass of wine.
“That’s where I met Isa who lived in the same block. She was a skylark, very active in the local festivals, singing and dancing with troupes.
I got to know their family slowly over the years. Her father became Pa’s friend
and supplier. We’d go for picnics to the lake shore. In one of those trips, Isa
and I went on a long hike to get know each other better. That was the turning
point in our … er… friendship.”
Aleya smiled: “I bet a lot went on in the turning point!”
Ray winked. “My father wasn't thrilled that he had to send a
small search party to find us. When we returned home, he confronted me – I told
him it was nothing serious. He didn't buy it.”
Ray wears the cap again and speaks in his father’s voice:
“Raymond! Do you want
to be a great engineer - or a stupid lover?”
“Not fair. You could be both,” Aleya said.
“You really have to understand,” Ray says, running a hand
through his dark thin hair, “We are a family of bakers, wedding singers, and
ticket agents. My father dropped out when he was only sixteen. He could read, write and do basic math. With that legacy, he really didn't know what it takes to be an Engineer. He thought any distraction could derail my plans."
“What did you think of her – a distraction?”
“Then? Not me. She was a great girl. Except, she wasn't quite the one.”
“Why?”
Ray scratches his head. “Now, remember I was just a young
teen there, my head filled with crazy notions. She wasn't really pretty like
the heroines from movies. I couldn't get past the mole.”
“The mole?”
“Yes, she had a mole on her right cheek. It
was repulsive. The more I got to know her, the bigger it seemed to become. You
wouldn't understand.”
Aleya crosses her arms: “Oh, I understand! The specter of the mole - sure. You thought you were going out with a mole, not a girl. That’s
stupid, you know!”
Ray doesn't answer as he pauses to roll up the blinds. The
window glass is frozen and near opaque. I suddenly notice a thick, green-covered
binder in the bookcase. I wonder if it was the same one his father had kept for
decades.
“The blizzard is slowing down,” he says, peering with his
face against the pane.
“Well, then get on with the story!” Aleya says impatiently.
“A year later,” he says, still looking outside, “I got into Jadavpur
University, in their Computer Science program. My father was ecstatic, of
course, as his dreams were coming true. Isa was also cool about it.”
“Jadavpur - that's where you two met?” I ask Aleya.
“Yes,” Aleya says, and smiles wryly, “I had no idea he left
a girl behind. I learnt about her only when he was leaving for America.”
“I didn't leave her.
I went back whenever I could. But the distance was making her jumpy, she
thought I was slipping away from our so-called relationship. See, that was
really the problem. She assumed there
was something permanent going on. I did
not.”
“You were misleading
her!”
“Not intentionally.
In the third summer, I really wanted to end this before it got any deeper. When
I got down at the bus station, I saw her waiting at the gates looking entirely
different. She had changed into a young woman. She was very pretty.”
“What about the mole?”
Aleya asks, deliberately stressing the last word.
“It shrunk … almost
invisible. I was seeing the girl, not the mole. She looked like a heroine from
the movies. And there she was – waiting just
for me.”
I stand up to clap as Ray takes a bow. Aleya stares at us
with clear contempt. Outside, there is a sound like a crack. Probably a tree branch breaking under
the weight of snow. Ray downs rest of the wine in his glass, and excuses himself
to the bathroom.
I notice a particular photograph on the mantel. It is of his
father – a tall light-skinned man in his fifties with white sideburns, pursed
lips, and stern grey eyes that belie hardship and pain.
“Hey, look at this,” says Aleya, pointing to the next
picture of a group of scrawny teens in a clearing among trees on a lush green
hill. Ray is easily recognizable, sitting astride on a blanket. A cherubic girl
is next to him lying flat on her stomach. The mole on her cheek is
unmistakable. Her face is childlike and flushed.
Ray saunters back in,
walking a bit unsteady. I can tell he is buzzed. He fills his glass again.
“When she looked so beautiful at the station,” he continues,
“I changed my mind. I wanted her for life. But first - I had to talk my father about
another matter – America.”
“Yeah, Ray cracked the GREs. He was really obsessed about
American colleges,” Aleya says.
“I asked him about going to America on a scholarship. I thought he would be mad, but it was just the opposite.”
The Karakul cap went back on his head and his voice changed
again:
“Raymond, you should
go to America whether you get a scholarship or not! I will make it happen.”
“Father loved the
idea, but I didn’t want to tell Isa yet, but she got wind of it anyway.”
“What did she think?”
“Funny, she was strangely indifferent. Her only
comment? We were like two planets in
separate orbits. Suddenly, she didn’t seem to care that much. Isa had joined
the local college, moved around in a new company of high-spirited friends, participated
in dance shows, and could not fathom a life outside Shillong.“
“Let me get this straight,” Aleya says, “Now you wanted to commit, and
she did not. The tables turned on you.”
Ray sits down, his voice softening.
“I think I should have spent more time with her on that
trip. But there was an emergency at home. One night, I was helping Pa with his
accounts. He asked me to pass him the pen. I tossed it over, and it landed
right next to him on the cushion. He kept on looking at me.
“Raymond, didn’t you
hear me? Please pass me the pen!”
Ray falls silent. Aleya seems to understand, but I don’t get
it.
“My father,” he says at length, “was losing sight. He
couldn’t spot a pen flying right at him in a dimly lit room."
He sighs: "I took him to the doctor the very next day. A specialist told us he had a genetic defect in his eye that leads to degenerative night blindness.”
He sighs: "I took him to the doctor the very next day. A specialist told us he had a genetic defect in his eye that leads to degenerative night blindness.”
Again, he pauses to look outside. The world is clearing up.
The worst of the storm is over.
“I insisted on staying back in Shillong, but my father would
have none of it. He was extra cheerful. The only thing that mattered to him was
to find a manager for his accounts.”
“Bless his soul!” Aleya
says.
“I have to ask you,” I interrupt pointing to the bookcase, “is that green binder the one your father was using?”
Ray nods, and retrieves it. He put it on the table, unties
the string, and opens the flaps.
“After my finals, I was back in Shillong helping Pa when I
received the letter.”
“What letter?”
He doesn't say, just beckons Aleya closer to whisper something
in her ear. Her eyes widen, and she grins. Then he looks at me with wide eyes.
“We will make this special. We are going to enact this for you, buddy. Give us a few minutes to
get ready and then all you have to do is clap twice.”
He takes out two letters – gives
her one and keeps the other. He also scribbles some notes on a post-it note, and attaches it to her letter. They both exit to opposite rooms - Ray to the bathroom on the left, and Aleya to the bedroom on the right.
I wait for what seemed a long enough pause, and clap twice.
Aleya appears from the bedroom door. She is wearing the
Karakul cap now, with a letter in her hand.
“Raymond, RAYMOND!
Where are you? I have to talk to you.”
Ray emerges out from the bathroom, also carrying a letter in
his hand.
“Pa! Where are YOU? I need
to talk to you too.”
“Oh there you are! You
go first, Raymond. What is it?”
“Pa, I got scholarship from America. I got
into the University of Colorado. No tuition fees. Financial aid. I’m just so
happy.”
“Congratulations,
Raymond! I’m so happy for you!”
“Pa, what did you want
to talk about?”
Aleya reads from the post-it note on her letter.
“I found a manager for our business. I just wrote his offer letter. so don’t you worry about my night blindness.”
“That’s how,” Ray says, perspiration on his brow, “I embarked on this life.”
Aleya takes off the cap, “Just before the farewell party, wasn't it? I remember you just returned from Shillong. You mentioned to us that you probably lost a girl forever as you were going off to America.”
“What happened to
your father?” I ask.
“The new manager he hired was a thug. He exploited my father’s increasing blindness.
Stole money, hired gang members to force him to sell the bakery for a pittance. My father couldn't deal with the stress I think, because he died from a heart
attack. No one knew ... not me, not my aunts and uncles.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Ray ruffles his
hair, with a rueful smile.
“It could have been different. Entirely different – only if
our conversation that day played out in just a different way.”
“What was that?”
“Let us enact it again.”
This time, he says - I am going to be his father and Aleya the observer. He gives me the letter and leads me to the room.
I sit in the bedroom wearing the Karakul cap, holding the faded envelope without an address, and the post-it note with my lines.
A few moments later, Aleya claps twice.
I come out and yell:
“Raymond, RAYMOND! Where are you? I have to talk to you.”
Ray bolts out of the bathroom: “Pa! Where are YOU? I need to talk to you too.”
“Oh there you are! You go first, Raymond. What is it?”
“No, you go first, Pa! I insist!”
That is the difference. His father talks first. For a moment,
I hesitate, but Ray nods at the letter in my hand. I open it. Written in shaky handwriting over
ruled thin paper, with ink smudges here and there.
“Dear Raymond: I have
told you all my life to grow your wings and chase your dreams. But, today, I
come begging to you to stay back in Shillong. My blindness is getting worse, I
cannot run this store. I cannot even manage my life properly. You are the
manager I need. My boy, it breaks my heart to ask you – ”
I stop reading. This is too private, I really cannot go on.
“I’m speechless, Pa,”
Ray says, still in character. “I want to
be your manager right here and stay in this town. In fact, Pa, I was just going to tell you that I didn't get the admission anyway – “, Ray crumples his admission letter, tossing it on the table, as he leaps across to hug me.
It is too uncomfortable, but
sensing his emotional state, I try not to squirm.
"You're lying to your father,"says Aleya, "but why?"
"Because he'd change his mind if he knew I got the scholarship," Ray says. "Remember, he actually did in real life. He lied that he had found a manager as soon as he heard I got a scholarship."
"You better sit down, you are exhausted," I lead him to the chair.
"You're lying to your father,"says Aleya, "but why?"
"Because he'd change his mind if he knew I got the scholarship," Ray says. "Remember, he actually did in real life. He lied that he had found a manager as soon as he heard I got a scholarship."
"You better sit down, you are exhausted," I lead him to the chair.
“I could have had a different life,” Ray says softly, “I
could have stayed back in Shillong. Taught at the local Engineering college. Not for Shillong. Not for Isa. Just for Pa, and the Bakery. All I had to do
- let him talk first.’
It is only after the funeral when he found the letter
in the folder – he really knew the whole story.
Ray sits down with a shrug. “I'm tired. This is my home now. I really
enjoy this life. I shouldn't complain, should I? I should never look back, of what use is regret?"
“That’s quite a story!” I say.
“Yes,” Ray says. “Now, it is your turn. Out with the secrets.”
“You go first,” says Aleya to me.
I get up. This ain't easy, but I have to keep my end of the
deal. I turn around slowly and moon them. A little show and tell - I hear the
laughter and hoots behind me.
“Well, what is your secret?” Ray asks Aleya.
She looks at me at first with an inscrutable expression. Then,
she takes in a deep breath to address Ray.
“Ray, you thought I was too drunk to go back home. But I was only drinking cider the whole
night. I was pretending to be
drunk so everyone else left your house.”
She looks at me apologetically.
I fucking jinxed the
plan! Oh no! I must leave. Right Now!
Ray says something to her, she replies,but I'm not listening. He is moving
towards her. I pick up my coat and keys.
I slowly open the door, and ease myself out as noiselessly as I can. Through the slit of the closing
door, I see their faces drawing closer together.
The door clicks just as they kiss.