28th February 2016
The moment I saw him standing with all glamour in that cozy neon light of the plush and elegant decorative room, I knew he was the man for me. I kept staring at him and he at me, both of us lost in our bubble of absolute privacy. We were left alone, and I touched him, my hands trembling with excitement and fear. I started feeling him slowly, gently exploring him with my deft fingers. He stood there, without shying away from me and I got bolder, exploring him in and out. He in turn kept inspecting my passion, with silent sweet acceptance, revealing his feelings with silent grunts and groans. In the end of our exploit that lasted fifteen minutes, I knew we had struck the deal, and I wanted him for a life time.
I wanted him so very badly.
With a last longing look, I parted from him after extracting a promise that he would come to my home real soon. I spent day after day staring at my phone, willing it to ring (I had it in silent mode, anyways) and let me know that one message that I was so desperate to hear. There was nothing. No phone call, no message. I tried calling him back, but he kept evading me. I was heartbroken. Food became a burden, sleep my arch enemy. I felt lifeless, empty.
2 Months later:
The lazy spring evening, brought me good news, the message of his arrival. I remained in high state of excitement, diving into my wardrobe looking for that perfect dress which would complement my perfect moment. I settled for my red sheath and initiated my elaborate dressing ceremony. He was waiting at my porch sharp at seven. The lights at my porch made him look yummy and again I felt that high voltage electric current running through my nerves. I devoured him with my eyes, my fingers itching to touch every bit of him. I leapt for him and he caught me with an easy grace, I placed my head on him, feeling his strong body, trying to hug his vast expanse. I looked at him with a questioning smile, seeking permission. He gazed at me quietly and gave me the key to his very soul. I was on fire, wildly consuming, stretching and pulling my legs. I held him in a steady grip, feeling the hardness and softness of his driving force. He took me everywhere I wanted to go, soothing me with his coolness and gentle hum of melodies. He drove and drove and drove till I was limp with exhaustion. I smiled tears, running down, my lips gently touching his Crimson metal body. He was my love, my friend, my silent companion. He was my salvation. My lovely blood red Audi <3
16th February 2016
For every one of us in this new age big family, he was the biggest nuisance in life. His punctuality was sickening, his food routine and preference – absolutely incorrigible. His age was the biggest headache of all. He was an eighty five plus years old man who carried rules, regulations and grit back from his yesteryears. The lines on his withered, dark skin spoke about years of back-breaking hard work and hardships of life. He paid a three-fourth from his retirement money every month for his food and lodging; to stay in the house that he built when his back was still erect. It’s not that the family did not love him. They couldn’t find time between their busy work schedule, social life and virtual life to find time for that one soul which craved nothing. Nothing; but that.
I served him breakfast in the plate specially cast aside for him, poured some water in his thermos while he started on his idlies, with his hand shaking vigorously. He took the first piece, grabbed my hand for grip and slowly started moving towards the ancient looking compound wall that surrounded our house. He placed the morsel of food in his hand on the compound wall, amongst other debris of the same customary ritual of the previous week, and the week before that. This was one another annoying habit that never changed in his lifestyle. Every day, the first handful of his meal during breakfast and lunch, went to the compound wall.
It was a downright irritating habit as he usually dropped food all through his journey, from his room via hall to the front door. It was my duty to clean up the whole floor after every meal. Cleaning the compound wall was the next disaster. Some squirrels and crows dine on the food he keeps and rest all stays on top of the wall, in various states of decay. The food then covers the seat of the brand new pulsar of the tenant staying upstairs.
“Why can’t you stop this stupid habit thatha ?” I asked him with acrimony.
“Those little animals depend on me. I won’t stop this habit as long as I live” was his calm answer.
In the following months, his health started deteriorating severely. We could see his will breaking, his life seeping away from him. We started feeding him in bed. Every day he kept looking through the door at the compound wall, there was always a tear trickling down his cheek, which we forgot to notice.
A week went on this way, and that fateful Saturday as I started feeding him his porridge, he shook his head, and grabbed my hands, indicating that he wanted to get up. I refused, but he held my hands with such strength, that I was shocked for a moment. He got up and placed his hand in the lukewarm porridge. He scooped up a handful from the bowl, slowly started dragging his feet towards the front door. I tried to stop him; but he moved on with determination, leaving a trail made of porridge in his way. He positioned himself near the wall, slowly moved his hand up to the wall and placed the few drops of porridge that was left in his hand. I saw a small squirrel running towards the fresh food, the moment it touched the food, I saw my grandfather slide down, slowly lapsing into the deep darkness. I shook him hard, called him aloud, but deep down I knew he had already reached a place where he could hear us no more. I saw the last of life leave him, his eyes looking at the wall and his lips curved in a gentle smile.
Three months later:
I sat down for breakfast, when I heard the little squeaks outside. I smiled to myself taking the tiny bowl that lay beside my plate. I passed the portrait of my grandfather, smiling a little as I went. I placed the morsel of food on the earthen bowl that I had placed on the compound wall. My grandfather watched the little act of love, hanging in the portrait that stood facing the compound wall.