THE TRAIN

The train moved on. The sound of the moving train synchronized with the pitter-patter of raindrops on the steel roof. Together, both the sounds created a symphony. He thought of Kahlil Gibran, who wrote that two pillars can’t stand together. They should be wide apart in order to give strength to a structure. But what if the structure wasn’t meant to be? Hadn’t he seen the Stonehenge? What if two pillars, standing together were complete in themselves leaving no room for any other part of structure? Inquisitions, inquisitions. Why anything on earth has to have a purpose? And if it is so, what is the purpose of existence? He kept on thinking as the symphony kept on playing.

The train entered a tunnel. He watched the darkness outside the window. It was his tunnel. He had built it. In the process, he had also created darkness. The darkness inside the tunnel. The darkness was monotonous. It never seemed to change. Time seemed to have frozen. But his watch ticked and made him keep realizing the reality. The reality of time. Time goes on while one is stuck in a moment for years. It had happened with him. Time had wounded him. Time had healed him.

The memories flashed past him in the darkness of the tunnel. A darkness which he had created. They flashed past him like a motion picture.

Ten years ago he had passed high school. With flying colours. He had been happy. For himself and his girlfriend, Kate. James Miller and Kate Watson were the most happening thing of the school. He had topped the state and she was behind him by a fraction of the percentage. And it was the start.

She wanted to become an archaeologist. He, an engineer. He wanted to build bridges. She wanted to dig mounds. He wanted to cover the gaps. She wanted to uncover the facts. She went on to study history. He went on to study science. She went into the best department of archaeology. He went to the best technical university. She went North. He went South.

They’d call each other on weekends. She’d ask, “So, how’s it going?”
“It’s going well. All’s fine.”
“Yeah, same here.” Then would follow a long pause until one of them had to say “Guess I’ve got to go now. Got some chores to finish. You know, laundry and all. I get a bit of time for these things only on weekends.” And then they’d hang up. After that he’d resume working on his model and she’d resume shuffling through her papers and journals.

He had never thought what would become of them. He’d never thought of the future. With him and her together. It once occurred to him. And out of his anxiety he astonished her by calling her up on a weekday.
“Hey Kate.”
“Hi Jim.”
“I suddenly realized we’re soon going to be in a fix.”
“I know that. Do you mind if I call you up in the evening? I’m listening to a lecture right now.”
“Okay.”
He felt relieved. He felt as if his burden now lay buried deep inside the earth and she would excavate it, decode the manuscript and come out with the solution. He smiled at the thought.

At four in the evening she called.
“Hi Jim.”
“Hi.”
“Where are you putting up? Just tell the address.”
“You’re sending over some stuff, or what?”
“Just dictate your address, will you?”
At eleven in the night she knocked on his door.
“I was just waiting for you to take up the matter. I’ll be staying till weekend.” She said as she entered his apartment.
“Why did you have to wait for me to take up the matter? Anyways, okay.” He paused for a moment.
“Kate...” he continued and was interrupted.
“We can do the talking in the morning. Right now I’m tired Jim.” She bore a strange look in her eyes. As if she was pleading. As if she was about to undergo a waxing session and wanted to take her time getting prepared for it.
“Are you hungry?” he asked after a pause.
“What do you have?”
“Some cold meat. Besides I also have a gas connection and a kitchen.”
“Okay, go cook some hot junk. I’ll freshen up by the time.”
While having dinner they almost didn’t see each other. Just talked. About other things.
“So how’s everything going?”
“Uh, nothing much, history classes. Mesopotamian civilization. I guess I’ll take that up for my research.”
“Good.”
“And you?”
“Research is not the first thing I have in mind. I want to do things right away. But I’ll have to graduate. All construction firms require a degree to recruit.”
“Doing things means what?”
“Building things.”
“Bridges, tunnels, ropeways, railroads, is that it? Its all very material.”
“What is wrong in being material?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I think we should sleep now.”
“Yeah. You hit the bed. I’ll bang on the couch.”
“Why not vice-versa?”
“What does it matter Kate? Anyways, you’re my guest.” He laughed.
In the morning, she woke him up at six.
“Listen Jim, I have a solution. At least for the time being.”
“What?” he asked rubbing his eyes.
“Let’s just not give it too much importance.”
“To what?”
“Our relationship.”
“That’s your solution?”
“Perhaps the best one.”
“What an entry, and what an exit!”
They spent the weekend lazily lying in the room, looking at each other, ordering pizzas and getting drunk. She left on Sunday evening.

X X X

The train had stopped. It was a hydraulic failure. He sat still. As before, time stood still. The light inside was the same. The darkness outside was the same. It was only the one sudden jolt that marked the stoppage. Otherwise there was not much difference. The technology which he had propagated into the rails and the train, lifted the train up by half an inch above the rails. In the air. The train then moved on the magnetic field. No friction, no jerks. Efficiency and pleasure. He was a pleasure seeker. He was bound to make progress. For himself and the mankind.But there was a jolt which marked this event of progress. Only the jolt. Otherwise he couldn’t tell the difference. An event is a time marker. So was this jolt. It had occurred seven years ago. The motion picture resumed.

The Sunday night was longer than expected. After she had left, he dreamed. In his dream he made love. To Kate. The next morning he tried calling her but she didn’t pick up. Then he didn’t call. Neither did she.
He toiled from then onwards. He broke all his old models, adopted a new approach and started from scratch. The magnet became his soul mate. He cut it into various shapes and angles and observed the effects on his model. It worked for a few seconds everytime, and then collapsed. He knew it was going to take a long time. Meanwhile, he kept on topping the examinations. The girls on the campus kept on hitting on him. Pestering him. He didn’t give attention. A year passed.

She called one day.
“Do you mind me getting into a relationship? With another guy?”
“You only said we’ll give it less importance, not that you wanted to end it.”
“First of all, let me tell you that ‘less’ and ‘no’ are not synonymous. And secondly, I don’t want to end it. I will never want to end it. Its just that my body has needs.”
“Can I come over this weekend?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Its just that my body has needs.”
“Wow.”
She hung up.

He took some flowers on the way. He rang the doorbell. She opened the door. They kissed. He realised the difference between pleasure and satisfaction. Its pleasure which culminates in exaltation when one discovers happiness. Satisfaction is the follow-through. Without pleasure there could be no satisfaction.
Lying with her on his side was satisfaction. Kissing her was pleasure. Making love to her was exaltation.
“You’re beautiful.” He said.
She nodded simply. Her lips widened, only a bit, and her eyes sparkled. This was happiness.
“Why did you say that?” she asked.
“I felt like saying it; I felt a strong desire to say that, stronger than ever.

He returned the next day. This time his model worked for about an hour. This time he had cut the magnet into the right shape and the correct angle. It gradually got better and better over the next two years. He worked frantically over it. He’d spend his weekdays on his model and weekends at Kate’s place. One Friday evening, he changed the shape of the magnet very slightly. He then left for Kate’s home. He didn’t bother switching it off as it was anyways going to collapse in a couple of hours. He spent the two days with Kate. She had grown lovelier by the day. They both were in a very nice mood. For the first time he didn’t think about his model while being with her. These two years had passed very slowly for him. He had always been in stress. But that day something about him was telling altogether a different story. He was happy. They spent the weekend fashionably. They got drunk. Went shopping. Cooked together. Made love. When he returned, his model train was still running. It had been running for more than two days continuously without collapsing. His train was ready. He marvelled at his innovation. He took pride in what he was about to bestow on the mankind. The train did not rest on the rails. No contact. No friction. No power loss. Better efficiency. No jerks.

But the jerks are always there. She called him that very day.
“Hello Jim.”
“Hi Kate, I’ve just made it. It worked for two days and didn’t collapse.”
“Well, congratulations Jim. But isn’t it me who has made the call?”
“Yes.”
“So let me do the talking.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I just called to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Will you marry me?”
“Of course! Who else,” he paused, “will marry you?” and he burst into a childish laughter.
“Will you marry me now?”
“What do you mean ‘now’?”
“Say, a couple of weeks or a month?”
“Are you kidding? I’m still in college, an undergraduate!”
“Just say yes or no Jim.” Her words were strong but her voice was frail. Just like a kid who has done bad in the paper but has come to see the result with a slight hope of passing.
“Why are you being so difficult?”
“Easy is not worth you Jim.”
“I cannot support you right now. This is unreasonable.”
“I never asked for support.”
“Okay, for that matter, I cannot afford to get married.”
“That means a no. Right?”
“Yes. That means a no. But why suddenly this shocker?”
“Don’t ask questions. I called you. I’m done talking with you. So, good bye.” She hung up.

He didn’t have time to ponder over this conversation. He engrossed himself in thinking where he’ll run his train. The streets were crowded. There were already too many overbridges. The only feasible option was a tunnel. He’ll have to build a network of tunnels in the city. He still had one year in college. He started gathering information on tunnel building. In his last semester he opted for a specialisation course in tunnels. He didn’t want to do something together with someone. He didn’t believe in sharing success.

The next year he graduated. He got his plans approved by the city administration. The government hired him. He promised to bring down the street traffic to one-fifth. To bring down the effective travelling time to one-third. To bring down the cost of travel by a factor of one and a half. And he fulfilled these promises in the next two years. The promises made to the government and the tax-payer. He had forgotten the promises he made to himself.
Gradually he ventured into other cities. It became a national project. The intra-city railway gradually grew up into transcontinental railroad, covering Mexico and Brazil over the next two years. The project became the nation’s pride. James Miller had become a national hero.

X X X

There was a sudden jolt once again. The hydraulic failure had been rectified and the train had started moving. He thought perhaps he should propose to replace the hydraulic mechanism with the latest electronic control systems. In his mind he started calculating. No, not feasible. The cost of installation will be too high, let alone the cost of the systems. And then he’ll have to collaborate with the electronics guy. The idea had to be rejected. He’d have to endure the occasional jolts for the time being. An attendant came to him and asked whether he wanted something. He asked for some wine. Time was going on. As usual. He was stuck in a moment. The motion picture resumed once again.

He was a success now. He wanted to celebrate it. He wanted Kate. He tried to call her but her number was out of use. He didn’t have any contact of her. He searched the telephone directory. Her name wasn’t there. Perhaps she had moved out of the city. He searched for Christina, her best friend in school. She must be having her contact. Yes, she had. But she won’t tell.
“For god’s sake Christina, why can’t you give me her number?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“I need her number.”
“Well, your need for something is not a license to it. You don’t deserve her. You don’t even deserve her number.”
This was the trigger. He didn’t know there could be something HE didn’t deserve. That there could be something he needed. So badly.
“How can you decide what I deserve?”
“After what you’ve done to her, even a street urchin can decide against you. Anyways, I have her number, to put it straight, and Iam not going to give it to you.”
“Very well, I need it. How do I buy it?”
“You’re out of your mind. You don’t buy money. You earn money so you can buy stuff. Stuff that makes you happy. You want to buy Kate! Loser, you ought to have earned her. And then you could’ve bought your happiness.” She started crying bitterly.
“Okay Christina, listen, I wasn’t even a graduate then. I don’t know what sort of a whim of hers was that, why she started behaving like that. How could I marry her and ruin all the success which we can now together celebrate? I declined her not for myself but for us.”
“Do you even know who that ‘us’of yours include?”
“What do you mean?”
“It includes a child also Mr. James Millers. Do you even know that?”
“No. She... she didn’t tell me.” He stammered.
“You’re a father Mr. Millers and you don’t know that. What a shame!”
“Please tell me her address.”
“You want to build a tunnel and a railroad to her house, do you? Please just go away.”
“Okay, I’ll go. Don’t tell me where she is. But can you at least enlighten me on what happened to her? How and when?”
“I admire your guts. Well, when she asked you to marry her, she was pregnant. She didn’t tell you but I know what hell she went through. She started working part time as a waitress. Freelanced her articles, and sold her journals to another historian researching on the same subject. It paid her well, but her career was ruined. It allowed her enough money to give the child a birth and an upbringing. She continued her part time job and meanwhile researched too, on her own. She started from scratch, this time working on the Egyptian civilisation. About a week ago, she got an offer to join a team of archaeologists as a junior assistant.”
“How did she complete her graduation?”
“Kate’s mother chipped in to help her daughter out. Her mother looked after the infant when she wrote her exams. She is still living with her.”
“Okay, that means she’s in Egypt. Thank you very much. Just one more question.”
“What?”
“How do I earn her?”
“I don’t know. How do I know? Please leave now.”
“Thank you, Christina.”

The next day when Christina was out of her house at work, James Miller broke into her house, searched the diaries and the notebooks and extracted Kate’s address. She was in Cairo. Just when he was leaving, he bumped into Christina at the door.
“What are you doing here?”
“You told me to earn her. You didn’t tell me how.”
“I never said that you could break into my house.”
“Well, you implied that, didn’t you?”
“I’m calling the police.”
“Go to hell.”
“Disappear from here within ten minutes, or I’m going to really call them.”
“You don’t always imply what you say. Isn’t it?”
“The airport’s that way.” She smiled as she pointed her finger towards a lane.
“Good bye, Christina.”

He had the address. He couldn’t wait. There he was at her doorstep. On the way he had picked up some flowers. He rang the doorbell. She opened the door. They kissed. Her mother watched. The three year old watched. No one said anything. Finally he broke the silence.
“Will you marry me?”
“You’re in America, and I’m here in Africa. How are you going to make it work?”
“You can’t ask for a transfer in America?”
“I’ve researched on the Egyptian civilisation. What will I do in America?”
“You don’t need to.”
“You’re asking me to quit my job?”
“No. Not you alone. Lets both of us quit. Together.”
“Together? Since when did you start working ‘together’ with someone?”
“Since yesterday.”
“And you expect results right away?”
“No, this is my first step.”
“Anyways, how do you plan to make it work with both of us quitting our jobs?”
“We have enough savings.”
“They are your savings. Not ours.”
“That’s not true.” He said in a feeble voice.
“That is one ultimate truth.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go away.”
“But we just kissed and I thought you were quite engrossed in it.”
“That was a call of the moment.”
“Nothing else?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m pleading you Kate.”
“Please don’t do that.’
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That too was a call of the moment. Afterwards, it was too late.”
“Is there no way we can be together?”
“It’s you who has to figure it out.”
He put the flowers gently on the table, and left, bewildered. Without another word. He took a flight and reached America the next day. Then he took a rail ticket and boarded a train bound for the suburb where he lived. Thus started the journey.

X X X

There was a sudden jolt, the last one, and the train stopped. The motion picture ended. He had reached his station. He alighted on the platform and walked towards his house. On the way, he discovered something. And he felt the pleasure of the discovery growing in his veins. At the doorstep of his house, he paused and retraced his steps.

X X X

While he was on his fateful train journey, towards his home, Kate and her mother were involved in a conversation. Her mother asked the first question.
“Why did you have to do this?”
“What?”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Yes, he is. He’s the most honest man I’ve ever met.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“What?”
“Did you hear a word of love during the entire conversation?”
“I can’t understand. No.”
“Well, that’s it. He implies only what he says. And he says what all he implies. He wants to be with me because he thinks me worthy of himself. I like him for his honesty. Since I met him twelve years ago, he has never said he loves me. He doesn’t love me.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.” She felt helpless.
“But you too never told him.”
“I guess I am not as honest as him.”
“You’re not dishonest, you’re an idiot.”
Her mother said, irritated.
She let out a sigh. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she started crying, once again the same way, on her mother’s shoulder as she used to, when she was a child. The only difference being that her mother didn’t have to kneel this time.

X X X

The next day he was in Egypt at her doorstep. Again. He didn’t take flowers. He rang the doorbell. She opened the door.
“Kate,” he paused.
“Say it.” She gasped.
“I love you.”

X X X

A LOSER’S FIRST LOVE

It was autumn. But for Aksionov it was spring. It was always spring for him. Hope blossomed in his heart every time he saw a girl and the petals of the flower in bloom kept on falling until there were none left and by this time a new flower, of a new, different species would bloom in his heart. Despite so much hope and positive attitude he couldn’t manage to find a single girl for himself. Literally. Incidentally, one girl who managed to find Aksionov turned out to be married, not “single” and sadly enough very much disappointed by Aksionov as he would not offer his services to her.

And to view the above statement in a different light, despite these many countless failures he didn’t lose hope and always donned a positive attitude. Well, one day, one fine autumn day this happened. The clown turned into a dramatist. The farce turned into a play. He met this girl, Natasha Aporova, and fell in love for the first time in his life. The girl was different. The one whom he wanted to be with.

And the one whom she wanted to be with . . .That seemed to be altogether a different matter. It was not that she wanted to be with someone else, perhaps no one, but at least she didn’t seem to want to be with Aksionov. She was fed up of boys following her, peeping into her window. She shut the window so hard that the sound of it shattered Aksionov’s heart to pieces.

What happened was that things couldn’t settle for Aksionov and his condition went bad. And from bad to worse. Well, this man Aksionov, twenty-two, quite an aged man for a thing called first love, was in no mood to let his first love fade away. It had to be substantial. At least the memories had to be substantial. Moreover, he didn’t want to regret later that he didn’t give it a try. So he made the most common mistake. He made haste.

“Hi Natasha” he yelled at her one fine Sunday morning, his voice unusually loud with enthusiasm. It was only on Sundays he could see her. The other six days he didn’t get leave to get out of his academy. He was a cadet in the merchant marine academy of St. Petersburg.
“Hi” she returned, her voice unusually low, merely louder than a whisper. Yet he heard her loud and clear.
“So, how are you doing?”
“Just fine.”
“Could we talk over coffee for some time?” Aksionov blurted out.
“Uh, okay.” She shrugged and shook her head at the same time making a very strange gesture.
And so they started walking towards the café. It was about at a distance of a ten minutes walk. All the time during the seemingly never ending walk, he kept on thinking how he’ll do the whole week without brandy the money meant for which he was going to spend on the coffee with her. It was autumn but St. Petersburg was cold. ‘I’ll do something about it later’ he thought. At last the walk ended and so did his thinking. And once again he couldn’t explain to himself the reason to why he had stopped thinking as soon as he stopped walking. What was the connection?

He shook his head, composed himself and brushed aside such ideas to avoid acting weird in front of her. And then it happened.
“I, er . . . need to talk to you.”
‘Oh what a line. What an opening line to the conversation. What a genius! Poetry!!’ He cursed himself.
“Uh . . . yeah. I mean that’s why we are here, aren’t we?” She said with a tone of contempt in her voice. She further inquired, as though unknowingly, “By the way, what is it you need to talk about to me?”
“I think you know it.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“Yes you do”
“But I don’t”
“Yes you do”
“But I don’t.”
“I love you.”
“But I don’t.”
“I said I love you.”
“And I said I don’t.”

This had hurt him. Slaps from all directions on his face. Left. Right. Centre. It must have hurt him. Men are supposed to get hurt. They are supposed to have that ego. That masculinity.
“Very well then,” he said, “Pay for the coffee. I’ll rather have my week’s brandy.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I think I need to walk.” He stood up, turned back and walked away.

x x x

Captain Raze Aksionov, a fine officer on the cruise “Ocean’s Paradise” was on his maiden voyage as the vessel’s master. A young, promising marine officer. It was rare for an officer so young to be the master of the Ocean’s Paradise. But for his abilities and achievements rare for a mariner his age, he achieved the feat.

The ship, on a voyage from St. Petersburg, Russia to Sydney, Australia had rich businessmen, entrepreneurs, executives, landlords of various estates on board. The bourgeoisie class. These were the people who were self-made without any assistance from anyone, not even their predecessors. This was something he liked about them.

“Hey Raze”, shouted someone from behind as the master was standing on the bridge observing the ship’s proceeds. “Who allowed you up here?” he spat and realized the very next moment that he knew the voice as well as the face.
The face had accumulated a bit of bulk and the voice had an enhanced shrill of excitement as always had been.
“You know I can always make it.” He was Sally, his old school friend.
“As soon as I came to know you’re the master, I couldn’t resist coming up to the bridge. Although I know I’m unauthorized.”
“That you are. As always.” He grinned.
“So, what have you been doing?”
“Well, you can see.”
“Yeah. You quite made something out of yourself, huh?”
“I love this life.” He didn’t want to answer in the affirmative or the negative. His glance had a sense of pride and achievement. It was as if he didn’t want to tell anything about his hardships and struggles, he just wanted the world to acknowledge, not to compare his past and present.
“I too love this life. All your life you are on a cradle, just like a kid. And you are the one rocking the cradle just like a parent. You get to be the kid and the guardian at the same time. That’s fascinating.”
“You are good at putting a thought to anything. Everything rather.”

Sally grinned and the conversation paused for a moment.
“The weather is calm and its open sea. You can stay easy. Eh?” Sally tried to rekindle the conversation.
“Rather, got to be more alert. The calm is unusual. An indication of an approaching storm.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It can’t be ruled out. I’d say it’s very much probable.”
“The voyage is going to be exciting my friend.”
“Yeah, for some.”

More often than not it happened with him that he couldn’t hit upon the precise words for starting or carrying on a conversation. And he hated this. This time he didn’t want the conversation to cease, so without further wasting time on thinking what to say and what not, he took liberty, rather liberated himself, in asking him, “What have you been doing all these years. Uh . . . I know this had to be a bit earlier but you know that’s the way it is with me. My timing is always so incorrect.”
“Uh . . . not too much, just handling my father’s business you see, it’s awfully boring.”
“Got any girl?”
“Yeah, you can say. I’d rather say she’s got me.”
“What, you’ve not proposed to her yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, take your time, and more importantly, give her the time. Don’t, under any circumstances, try to make haste. This is important.”
“Whoa man!! What’s going on? I never thought you would give suggestions to anyone on such a subject.” Sally gave him a look that suggested that he and all others thought of him as a geek. But Sally’s look was innocent. Absolute truth. He was a geek. Desperate. Sincere. Rich.
“Life is strange” he murmured.
“Anyways, why not join us at dinner tonight?”
“Sure.”

The calm infused in him a turbulence of a degree equal to that of the calm. His mind rose and fell against the memories like waves breaking on the vessel’s hull, as he went back to those days, thinking about Natasha. He looked at the horizon. It was copper red. Suddenly out of nowhere black clouds emerged. The vessel started rolling as if in synchronism with his mind. The sky went black. And gradually the wind turned gale. The storm seemed to him to be a manifestation of his own thoughts. The ship started to roll heavily. He called his mate and told him to make arrangements and take precautions against heavy weather.
“Ensure no crew or passengers are on deck, and take a headcount.”
“Yes sir.” Replied the mate and walked out of the bridge.

Aksionov looked at the hazy horizon. He fancied a different world on the other side of the haze. He tried to approach the hazy wall but couldn’t come close to it. No matter how fast the ship would move towards the wall but the distance seemed to be constant. He couldn’t understand why so desperately he wanted to reach the horizon.

“Master, a passenger is missing.” Cried the mate as Aksionov came out of the trance.
“What?”
“A lady. Russian. Miss Natasha Aporova.”
Thunder struck. His jaw dropped. He went numb. And dumb.
“Search on the deck. All the accommodation. Everywhere.” He somehow managed to babble out this much.

He couldn’t stop himself going on the deck. Holding on to the railings and donning a life-jacket, he went ahead towards the forecastle. At the forward end he saw a feminine figure lying unconscious. He ran, still holding on to the railings. Just then the vessel rolled. To a greater degree. The hawsers coiled and stowed near the bulwark, acted as an incline, from the deck to the gunwale, and she rolled over the incline and fell into the water. Aksionov jumped after her. He had hoped that the seamen would have slung the scrambling nets on ship’s sides. And so they had. His luck was unusually favorable that day.

He caught hold of her by the hair, took her by her waist and laboriously brought her up, ascending on to the scrambling nets on the ship’s side. He took her to his cabin and warmed her. Then he saw her face. Calm and serene. Clear forehead. Sharp nose. Transparent lips. Black hair. She appeared not to have changed much since he had last met her. And then he saw his own face. His eyes. Love? Hate? No, love. His eyes sparkled and lips widened. He couldn’t hate her. He had never stopped loving her. His life had been banal despite his adventurous and exciting profession. He needed to re-originate that dimension. He needed to find someone. He had lost and found this girl. Was this a sign?

Somebody rang the telephone in his cabin. “Hey captain, my girl’s missing.” It was Sally’s panic-struck voice. ‘What, another passenger missing? But the mate said there was only one.’ Then he stammered, “h-her name’s Natasha or what?”
“Yeah.”
“Come up. I got her.”
“You got her?”
“I lost her.” He whispered to himself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just come up.”

He entered the cabin and the vessel rolled. Or it can be said that the vessel rolled and he entered. Her body rolled and she started to fall from her bed. Aksionov stooped and caught hold of her and their breaths fused. And diffused in the atmosphere. Her cold face exuding warmth. And a fragment of time which was to measure a fraction of a second started ticking. And as the ticking started she opened her eyes.
“Why do you keep haunting me in my dreams?”
“Well, this isn’t a dream.”
‘Or is it?’ he thought.
The ticking continued. Sally pretended not to have seen anything. Aksionov actually couldn’t see anything beyond her face. And Natasha had once again closed her eyes. So, Aksionov was all set to fall into the trap, once again.

Falling in love is easy, just like a trap, you go in and there’s no way out. The poacher is cruel, never lets you go and yet you are gone. Where to? No one knows. He hurts you, may be unintentionally, but he doesn’t care too if you are hurt. He carries you to the fire and slaughters you there, if he’s merciful. Otherwise he just roasts you alive. And before doing that he never forgets to get himself snapped standing over you (or your corpse, whatever the case may be).
This has been happening for millennia. Cupid shoots, the prey falls (in love), and the poacher tramples it and devours the flesh. Can’t he be content eating vegetables?

The fragment of time was nearing its end and to mark it, Sally broke in. “How’s she?”
“I’m okay.” She said in a frail voice, Aksionov still bent over her.
“Well Captain, I think she’s alright and doesn’t now need resuscitation, so I think you can now relax and straighten yourself.”
“Oh yeah, here she is, all yours.” Then he turned to her, “And ma’am please change your clothes, otherwise you’ll get a cold. And that’s not one of the better things to experience while on board”
“Thank you, uh, Raze” she said.
“I need to walk . . . er . . . think. I got work to see to. Take care.”
“You know him?” sally turned to her. By the time she had already closed her eyes. “Okay, good way to say yes. Wake up. You got to change clothes.”

The storm was over.

x x x

The next morning was a bit cold but the sun was showing. People were enjoying the weather on deck. Aksionov spotted Natasha amidst a gathering and went up to her.
“So, uh, how are you feeling now?” She turned towards him. Her face had a tinge of pink. A streak of her black hair all the way from her forehead over her eye pointing towards her slightly parted lips, suggested a sharp smooth contrast.
“I’m fine. How are you? I had never thought we’d meet again”
“Neither had I. Where’s Sally by the way?”
“He’s gone to sleep.”
“On such a nice morning?”
“Yeah. He sat beside me all the night to keep a watch on my fever.”
“It was very considerate of him.”
“He’s a nice friend to have.”
“Friend . . .yeah.”
“Let’s move to the café.”
“The weather’s nice here on the deck. I can arrange coffee here if you like.”
“I’d insist we go to the café.”
“Let’s go then.”
They occupied the corner table permanently reserved for the master. Once again Aksionov started. “So how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been fine. Tell me about your life.”
“Nothing much to tell. I did nothing but sailed and sailed. To the Bahamas, India, Africa, America, Australia. I didn’t go to Antarctica though.” He chuckled dryly.
“Quite exciting” She said with a wry smile.
“What will you have?”
“Anything will do.”
“Espresso will be fine?”
“Perfect. You remember that?”
“What?”
“That I had ordered espresso that day.”
“Which day?”
“The last time we met.”
“Oh. No I don’t. I just guessed you’ll like it.”
“I’m sorry about that day. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

This had once again hurt him. It was like removing a bullet from his bosom which had been fired ten years ago. Today the pain caused by excavating the scar had been far greater than when it was fired. He had got used to the bullet embedded in his heart. Now, performing a surgery to remove the bullet, without administering any anesthetic, was certain to hurt.

She continued to hurt.

“I thought you were just one of those boys running after me, just because I seemed pretty to them. They knew nothing about me. They just wanted to walk around with me. In the same manner as one takes a victory lap after winning an Olympic medal. I didn’t want to be a trophy of anyone’s victory over my existence and be showcased in his drawing room. I was being very judgmental.” Her eyes were pleading. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were really in . . .” She couldn’t complete her sentence.

He had interrupted. As if unable to bear the pain he had to cry out ‘It does hurt me.’ Only the words were a bit different.
“Well, now it doesn’t matter”
“It does. You were mad after me. Weren’t you?”
“It’s not that I was mad after you. I was just mad.”
“Is it really so?”
“It was really so”
She remained silent. And it was then that the venom found its way out.
“And by the way how do you now know that I was not–just–one–of–those–boys? Is it my money? My status? Is that why you are ready to dump Sally and be with me? Poor, poor Sally, eh?”
There was no answer. She took some time to recover from her state of shock. “I can’t believe you just said that.” This was all she could say.
“Oh come on Natasha, tell me the truth. Show up your mean side.” The bullet was out. Out of his heart.
She stood up and started to leave. At the door, she turned, came back and looked into his eyes. Her red eyes fumed as she said, “That day I misjudged you. Today, I did that again. I’m sorry for you.”
“Don’t be. Not for me.”
She left.

He shouted “You’re doing Sally or what?”

She left forever.

x x x