Twist Of Faith

I stood on the periphery. Of life. Thus it had been. Thus it would always be. With acceptance, came a resigned serenity. For I was different. Differently abled. One armed in a world of two armed people. When you are destined to be different, you become very adjusting, accomodating. You are always relegated to the background. Someone to be pitied, scorned or worse, to be helped by every Tom, Dick and Susan who comes along.

As a child, I was seated in the first row. For heavens sake, I remember telling my mum, I'm not blind !
But I took advantage of my situation, sometimes. Like when the girls fussed over me, and yelled at the other resentful fellows for taunting me.

Youth brought a different set of problems. I  no longer wanted or liked being pitied. I wanted to be loved, admired for myself. After all I was good looking. Had worked long hours at the gym to have a sculpted body. Alas, there were no takers. I watched admiration turn to pity, concern as the girls checked me out. Every time I turned away. The unshed tears burning up my heart. I turned bitter, cynical.

That was until she came into my life.

That day had been a sad day for me. I had been invited to my best friends marriage. To be the best man, observing at close quarters, the girl I was enthralled with getting married to my bestie. Getting out of the car, I was about to cross the road, when I saw a biker hurtling down the road. Talking into her cell, the girl crossing the road was directly in his way. Reacting instinctively, I leapt across, sweeping her aside with my one good arm, both of us ending up in a heap by the side of the road. Stunned we sat there. That is until she got up, brushed herself and started yelling at me. I looked up at her in astonishment. For God's sake, I had just saved her life ! As people started to mill around us, she extended a hand, pulling me up. As if she had saved me, not the other way around ! Then after a brusque, " You ok ? " she ran off in the opposite direction leaving me in the midst of a crowd. The type of attention I dreaded most. Seething, I strode off, having to head back home to change my clothes.

The next day, as I entered college, I heard a voice calling out my name. Turning, I saw it was her. Scowling I turned back, when a small hand tucked itself into mine. "Hey. I never did thank you for saving my life, " said she. Then she stood on tiptoe, to land a kiss on my cheek. Time stood still. As did most people who knew me on campus. Here was a pretty girl kissing me!  Me ! The background guy. Always the best man never the groom ! The smile stayed on my face for the rest of the day.

So the friendship bloomed between us. Every day I would wait by the college gates for her. She would come in, take my hand in hers and we would stroll in. I had no idea why she did that. I had no illusions regarding her either for she was already betrothed. In a long distance relationship. With a childhood sweetheart. I loved her but as one would a buddy. Because she was a girl, there did exist a what if ? between us. But only on my part, I guess. I confided in her. Things even I didn't know were bottled up within me, I found myself telling her. We went to cricket matches and discs, coffee shops and restaurants. She pined for him, I could see. I pined for just such a girl and companionship.

Alas the day came when I stood looking on at her reunion with her fiance. She had insisted I go with her to the air port to receive him. I was even more chagrined to find I actually liked the man. From there on, I stepped back. I assuaged my aching heart that she had never been destined for me. In the hopes of a romance, I was not willing to lose the best friend I had ever had.

We kept in touch. She emailed or called almost every other day from distant Canada.  Four years went by. Years in which she strangely made no mention of husband or child. For now she was both a wife and a mother. Her parents had moved to Canada, too, I heard, to be with their only child.

The job offer came like a ray of sunshine. I found myself coming alive again after many years. I was headed for Canada, Toronto, where she lived. I would work there, I promised myself I would see her only very occasionally. Also it would be a surprise. My visit to her home. The flight landed and I stepped out into a freezing, blustery winter morning. A strange feeling flooded my heart. I was soaring higher than the planes around me, so happy I was.    

The week went by in a flash. I had received her mails, but of late she had been sounding depressed. I waited anxiously for the weekend to come, settling down into my new job in the interim.

Her house was beautiful. Just as she had described it . A small neat garden surrounded the red stuccoed roofed house. I stood outside taking deep breaths. Who was I kidding. She would always be my true, my only love. Heart pounding, I rang the bell, holding the flowers i'd brought up to hide my face. The door opened. A beloved, beloved face shone in front of my eyes. Then I dropped to my feet. Holding that beloved body in a tight hug, even as the flowers dropped to the floor. I looked at her face, for what seemed like hours. The delicate lines that etched the beautiful sparkly eyes I had known. The unruly curls escaping from the tight knot behind, framing her pixie face. Oh. How I had missed her. But why was she sitting. Why did she not stand up to greet me ? Hug me ? Then It hit me. Stunned I reeled back. She was sitting on a wheel chair.

The story was painful. Tearfully told. She hugged me, and I held her close even as a deep wail of pain rose from within her. A car accident had taken not only her mobility, but also her loving husband from her. She had'nt told me because she had to fight her battles to regain her life and that of her little daughter. With the help of her parents she ran a creche and lived in the hope that life would reclaim her enough for her to provide for her child.

We got married in the next month. Life was cruel. To reward me, it had caused her great deprivation. But i was there. I would always be there for her.           

Cupid

The cell phone. That ubiquitous piece of metal. Such a small thing, capable of so much mischief has not been invented since.. since Dennis the Menace. Read on.. read on, dear reader..and judge: Friend or foe ?

It seemed to Ravi, that he had been waiting for hours. But then, he was waiting for the college hottie on campus and he had managed to land a date with her. So wait he would. The cell, of course had played cupid to this strange love story. For he was the campus nerd, the one no girl spared a second glance to.

Scene 1
A bustling college canteen. A worker scrubbing the floors, pauses pats his pant feverishly, as if he has a case of poison ivy, then leaving the bucket and mop dashes off outside to coo lovingly into the errant cell.
In walks the college hottie also absorbed in a cell conversation, a high pitched monologue actually, ticking off a long suffering boyfriend, then after a series of shrill "hello.. Hello.. HELLO..'s" she stomps a delicate foot.. straight into the bucket, which skids.. and not unlike insy winsy spider, she slithers and falls with a thump on the floor, landing almost at the feet of the nerd.

Like a modern day Mumtaz she lies hapless, wet and bedraggled on the floor, one hand fumbling for her skirt, the other for her cell. The nerd stoops to help her up, then winces as a banshee yell resounds in his ears. The girl has just realised that her cell has landed in the bucket and drowned. Hurling his hand aside, she leaps up to rescue her cell, then realises its dead. As she bursts into tears, the nerd flips open the cell exposes its innards, then strolls to the air conditioner vents exposing it to the hot exhaust. After five minutes of having the entire campus eyeing him and the girl, he nonchalantly rubs it against his sleeve, then profers it to the girl who squeals in admiration then, plants a kiss on his virginal cheek. Grabbing the moment, he asks her for a coffee. Unable to refuse the modern day Gallahad, she nods absentmindedly as he very cleverly dials his own number from her cell, thus saving her number in his for posterity.

Scene 2
A spiffy Ravi is hanging on to the street pole for dear life, adopting different poses, eyes and ears on the alert for her appearance. An hour later, a Ravi, shoulders sagging is desperately making calls that go unanswered. As he attempts to move, body drooping, feet dragging, he hears a voice from behind, hailing him. He turns to  see Ishita, his competitor and fellow nerd holding out his cell. He must have dropped it after that last desperate call, he realises.  He holds out his hand to take it, then accidently touches hers. A sudden shaft of lightening seems to run through him. He looks pleadingly at her, "Coffee ?"

Why hadn't he noticed her smile before he wonders, and her luminiscent eyes as he sits across her enjoying the debate of Cassius versus Brutus with her. A loud crash resounds from the opposite corner of the room. A girls raised voice heaps insults on the hapless boy sitting across her. She stomps out of the coffee shop in a huff. His phone starts to ring, even as he cowers behind his table, cringing as his truant date marches past him. Ishita looks at him. He holds her gaze and disconnects the phone. All he ever needed, he realises is sitting beside him.

An Alien World

The girl was pretty. Or rather she had very pretty eyes. Luminous, dark orbs glinting curiously at the passers by. The rest of her was covered by the hijaab, the head to toe black robes of the Moslem women. What was she doing in Singapore I wondered..

The Mercedes was wending its way smoothly along the coppery gold streets. It glided slowly to a stop at the traffic lights. Excited, unable to contain myself, I leaned out to get a better look. Where I come from that was surely banned. But besides the car was a young couple. I leaned out of the car, shocked, apalled ! The girl was wearing unbelievably short shorts ! Her slick halter top revealed a generous cleavage. and most of her back was exposed, shining white! Allah ! Surely she would be arrested ? Or worse, some man would swoop upon her and carry her off ! She turned to sneak a look at her husband. But he was absorbed in a phone call, seeing with unseeing eyes. As she watched, the girl turned to her companion and bestowed a loving kiss on his lips. The smile they shared, the spontaneous holding of each others' hands as they crossed the road, stayed with her for a long time.

Strange country this.  Looking around her as the lights changed and the car purred ahead, she realised that she was the only one staring! People all around were self absorbed, busy with cells or simply intent on crossing the road. Indignation, anger almost, flowed through her. Why was the girl not being accosted, dragged away to the police station ? How heinous, shameful was her behaviour ! She stole a glance at her husband. An imposing looking man. He was handsome, if much older than her. After all she was his second wife. This trip was a honeymoon, of sorts. A working holiday for him. He had indulged his wife and allowed her to accompany him. The mullah had recommended he go to Malaysia. Prayers at a particular masjid and the powerful herbs sold by a hakim there always guaranteed the birth of a son. Singapore was the business end of the trip.

He turned to see his wife, bristling with indignation as she pointed at a model displaying a bikini in a passing lingerie shop. He laughed and said something in Arabic, which had her blush a beetroot red and pull the mask attached to her burqa over her eyes. Indeed they were in a country of infidels. Surely on the day of Qayamat, they would burn in hell, she thought.

I stood looking out of the window. The luxurious suite of the hotel was a gilded cage. My husband had left at ten in the morning, before I had barely awakened. Awake I was though and restless. As I paced past the windows, I looked down to see the blue glistening waters of the swimming pool. What I saw had me thunder struck ! Women lay on the beach chairs, wearing almost next to nothing. Their upper bodies were naked, just a nonchalant towel thrown over their chests. The lower extremities were just covered with the tiniest of cloths, not big enough to be even called underwear. As I stood aghast, I saw men swimming in the pool too. One emerged from it, and making his way past the sleeping women, settled down beside a woman, who leaned over to say something to him. They both sat up and taking a bottle of lotion the man began to rub it all over her back. The sheer brazeness of it all had me standing their mouth agape.

The knock on the door startled me. Reaching for my hijaab, I put the chain over the door before opening it a tiny fraction. The girl standing outside wore housekeeping uniform : pants and a short top. Her face, though was unmistakable. She was the same woman I had seen at the traffic lights. As I looked inquiringly at her, she spoke, first in English, then seeing the incomprehension on my face, in Arabic. Smiling hesitatingly I let her in. Then, unable to stop myself, I told her that I had seen her yesterday at the signals. Eager to know more about her, I struck up a conversation, asking her how she came to know Arabic. She told me that it was one of the languages she had learnt in school.

Time flew. As she set about cleaning the room, we talked. She told me about Singapore schools, how women as well as men, studied together, underwent compulsory military training together after university. The woman standing before me was indeed a confident, smart young woman. She apoke five languages, earned her own living and was going to marry her boyfriend after a month. When I pointed at the pool, she smiled, then told me that was the way women dressed while swimming. What I saw before me was a world, that was free. Free to live, dress, move, earn, marry even, as they wished ! By the time she was gone, I had glimpsed a world so alien to mine, it was almost like another planet.

Alone for the entire day, I had lots to think about. Within me raced mixed emotions. I was superior to her where my station in life was concerned, or was i ? Determined to find out more, I called her back.

The next day, I was up as soon as my husband had left. Actually I was so excited I had hardly slept the whole night. Having dressed in a hurry, I waited anxiously for the clock to strike ten. Five minutes before, I walked out of the room. My mouth felt dry, my hands shook as I hurried to the elevators. For the first time in my life, I was going out unaccompanied ! That too, in a foreign country. An alien, alien land. As I walked towards the doors and out of the hotel, I broke into a sweat, wondering if she would be there. Praise be to Allah, she was. Hijaab firmly in place, I walked with her towards the car I thought she had brought with her. Alas, to my horror ahe was pointing towards a small motor cycle ! Before I could refuse, she had hustled me onto the back seat, carefully arranged my hijaab around my legs and we were off.. !

I asked her anxiously, " Are you sure we won't be discovered ?" Not only would it be catastrophy for me, she would lose her job as well. "Ah, she replied, "Don't worry. I'll have you back in good time."
As we zipped thru the streets, a strange exhilaration rose within me. Eagerly I took in all that she was trying to tell me, show me. Wide eyed, I took in the sights, smells and sounds of this lovely city. The bird park was an amazing place. I watched as the fabulously colored birds flew about, sometimes at will, sometimes in obedience to commands. How free were they, how magnificent their surroundings, how loved were they ! For lunch she took me to a Macdonalds outlet, letting me stand in line and ask in broken English for a burger, fries and a coke. The best meal of my life ! Next stop was the beach. We walked together, I took her hand in mine, as we waded thru the shallows. As I walked, a strange kind of happiness bubbled through mu entire being. For this day, this moment I was Me. Not a daughter, not a wife, not one in a sea of black, but in a multihued, serene, liberated world. Just being Me. Just being.

As we rounded a rock, Maria, for that was her name, asked me to stop. Before I knew what was happening she had pulled off my hijaab ! Stunned I looked at her at first, the protests, the fury I ought to have felt dying within me, as I slowly stepped out of it. I raised my hands, then my face up to the skies. Was I alive, still ? Hadn't I died and gone to heaven ? I must have ! The spray from the sea stung my face, my black tresses flowing freely around my body, as if aping the hijaab. Time stood still. I walked, I sat, arms wrapped tightly around my knees. I stretched, even ran a bit on the sands. I picked up shells, even a starfish that had washed ashore. I waded into the waters, up to my waist. Maria just sat and watched me.


I didn't know what  time my husband came to the room that night. Even he must have been surprised to see me fast asleep as early as ten, when I had been pacing the room upto twelve the previous night, exhorting that  I could not sleep, after having been cooped up the entire day.

We left Singapore the next day. Maria, came to the room before I left. I slipped her a card along with my diamond ring. A marriage ring I had no use for. For it shackled me. But was a symbol of liberation for her. My ties were of compulsion, I was the caged bird. Hers were of love, and so she flew. High up into the azure skies of Singapore.