We walked together, hand in hand, over mossy hills. We spoke of the flowers and the birds. Somehow she seemed a stranger now, but there was a time when I knew her. I could look into her heart then and see all that she longed for. She had nothing then. So had I. But now, it was different. I still had nothing and she, well, she had everything … almost. I never knew her like this. Yet even as I clamored for lucidity in my thoughts, a strong gust of wind blew from the North changing all that I knew and all I didn’t.

We fell off our feet and we went rolling downhill, shrieking madly with laughter and trampling all the tiny wildflowers with our huge bodies. Then I heard her laughter mingle with mine and I knew one thing for sure: she was still my friend.

We kept moving until a huge tree broke our momentum. And then there was silence, for a while at least. I asked her what she was thinking about. For a reply she gave me a name: a man, who had taken her breath away at first, and her heart, later. She wondered if he thought about her as often. I didn’t think he did, or else wouldn’t he have called in all that time to say something amorous or just plain “Hello. How goes?”. It was always her calling him.

“Do you love him?” I asked. She replied that she did above all, “I would do anything for him”. “And he?” She looked up into the branches of the tree, “Do you know that bird? What a lovely chirp it has!” Whoever he is, he doesn’t seem to want or need her anymore. Has he drifted away like so many other people in her life? I know she’s lonely now. She sensed my pity and joked, “Darling, doesn’t everyone love me!” I smiled. She smiled back and I saw this twinkle in her eye, the kind that flashes when she’s flirting with a man.

I said, “God loves you.” and in my mind, “I love you.” She looked away. I looked up for the bird. After a while she quietly said, “Sometimes you need more than words to feel that. Sometimes you need that loving touch, that passionate kiss. Sometimes a genuine smile or even that tender look that comes straight from the heart suffices and sometimes, simply holding hands.” Then she looked at our hands, which were held together and withdrew hers. I almost didn’t let it go but she was pig-headed as usual. She pulled at the neck of her top with both her hands and shouted towards the sky, “Can your God give me that?”

“I’ll pray that he does”, I replied knowing well that it would irritate her because she wouldn’t want a reply. But she calmly asked, “And when do you pray?” I answered, “I stay awake at night”. She rolled her eyes and said, “Stay awake at night? To pray?” “Yes. And to study, to think, to recall my day”, I replied. She was not convinced although that was the truth, even if only part of it. It is true that I stash the better of myself for the nocturnal hours. But she could never understand it. Yes, we live with a perennial disharmony of approaches. There’s love and concern but hardly any understanding. No wonder we function at different stratums!

She lives in a different space. She needs people to pay her attention. She needs lovers calling her, buying her flowers. She wants to be pretty, adorable, the best. Me, I like being by myself. I like the quiet of night. And I love her. She often tells me, “I live in the real world; you’re absurd.” and when she does I scoff at her, “So the real world is made of candy and flowers!” Yet I know how right she is. She’s real in a dreamy kind of world and I’m the dreamer surrounded by reality. The only truth between us is our diametrically opposed personae and our lies and that is what somehow succors our sanity.

She stood there barely an arm’s length away from me. I could smell her in the air around me. I looked at her twirling her hair around her finger and nibbling at the ends. I wished I had a cane I could use to make her stop as if I were her teacher. There was a time when I wanted to be a teacher, but the fad soon passed away. These days, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think actor, at other times, skydiver and occasionally I believe I could be happy in a nine-to-five like everyone else. I accuse her for my uncertainty. She won’t let me be what I could. Her crazy infatuations dominate both our lives. But I can’t live without her. Yet I won’t let her stop me from being what I am; I am the writer.

On cool Summer evening, Pedro and his love Paula, were strolling in the park, hand in hand. Occasionally, a bird call drew their attention but for most of that walk they kept both hands and eyes interlocked. It was really quite romantic but a small interruption knocked them out of their romantic reverie. A black cat pounced out of the shrubbery, right across their path, and managed to remind Paula of her superstitions and sent her into a melodramatic fit.

As the cat landed on its paws, Paula screeched to a halt and clutched Pedro's arm to draw him backwards so tightly that he carried the marks of her finger nails for days later. "Don't cross! DON'T CROSS!" she pleaded with the cat as if it could understand her and consequently could grant her wishes. With seemingly vicious and deliberate intention, naturally the cat did cross. And Paula was completely distressed. Pedro tried to calm her in vain. And I just dislike going on about her reaction when Pedro said, "Aw, come on sweetie. Its just superstition." She just went on ranting, "Oh God Pedro, evil shall befall us. The curse of the black cat. Oh dear, what shall we do. Now I know you will stop loving me. Its a curse!"

Pedro tried again to dispel her fears but it was pointless as she just went through the same dialogue in non-specific order. Luckily for him, Pedro remembered the charm to dispel the bad luck. The memory came from his childhood when as young boys, he and his pals would discuss anything under the sun. His eyes had a twinkle as he put both his arms on Paula's shoulders and turned her towards him. He smile grew wider on seeing the faint irritation in Paula's tear-filled eyes. He said, "I know the counter charm! I just remembered. I had a friend who told me what to do in this kind of situation." Paula stared blankly back at him; the irritation in her eyes was gone but the tears still flowed freely. "We need to walk backwards by thirteen steps. I'm sure of it. That will dispel the evil." he said.

That reassurance held some mollification for Paula who diligently walked thirteen steps backwards, counting aloud with each step. That done, being two people in love, who had seemingly recovered from a life-threatening situation, Pedro and Paula kissed and sighed intermittently. While they were thus occupied, the devilish black cat crossed their path once again. Pedro kept his eyes shut pretending he hadn't seen anything but nothing ever missed Paula. She cried out again, "That wretched cat! Pedro, it crossed us again! We must be doomed!" Pedro tried optimistically, "Nothing to fear dear. We'll take another thirteen steps backwards." And so, once again, meticulously as ever, they took another thirteen steps backwards.

The danger being dispelled, yet again it was kissing time. But alas, before either of them could form their pucker, the wily black cat had done it once again. This time Pedro was the irritated one: twice in a row he hadn't been able to wind up his kiss elegantly. However, Paula was just getting the hang of the game, "This cat seems to have a vendetta darling. But luckily I have you with me and we can fight this silly animal. Just another thirteen steps backwards." In the meanwhile, Pedro was looking for a good stick to whack the cat just in case it showed up again, but Paula was already drawing him backwards by thirteen steps.

This time there was no kissing. They both had a distinct intuition that the psychotic black cat would be back with its evil attack. Pedro still scrambled around for the perfect stick but he just couldn't find one. Apparently, the park was very well-maintained. In any case there wasn't enough time for the search because, as swift as a gust of wind, the black cat crossed their path once again. Paula was no longer enjoying the counter-curse. She tugged at Pedro's arm and said, desperately, "Give me something honey, like a weapon. I really need to murder that cat." Pedro distractedly replied, "I know honey. I'm looking for one already. But honestly, superstitions have no place in these times. Lets just move on to another place."

Paula looked shocked. She said, "Pedro, how can you say that! Isn't it strange how this cat keeps crossing us again and again. Its evil for sure. I'm in absolutely no doubt of it. " Pedro argued, "But Paula, how long do we keep using the counter curse? We could be here all evening." But Paula was determined, "Then that cat will have to be here all evening too, wouldn't it? And at some point we'll be able to catch it and bash it." Pedro frowned, "I hope you are proved right." Then the cat crossed once again. And they took another thirteen steps backwards.

The cat went on with its ulterior agenda of crossing the two love-birds almost unceasingly. They were tired and angry about their predicament but they persevered with their only known counter-curse. It had been almost half-an-hour that the cat had been disconcerting them. They were walking their thirteen steps backwards almost in a trance. They weren't looking backwards, just feeling the bricks under their soles. Therefore, they were stunned with what happened next. They were also drenched.

Pedro and Paula had walked backwards through nearly the whole park and had eventually landed near the pond. Since they had given up looking back over their shoulders, it was no surprise for anyone else but them, that they unsuspectingly fell into the pond. It was hard to say who was more bewildered: them or the ducks and fish. Pedro stood up in the water with a duck on his head that kept quacking wildly but refused to budge. Paula slipped thrice while trying to stand firmly on the moss-laden pond-floor. When she finally succeeded, her face was covered no only with her long tresses but also with the stalks of water hyacinths. The two of them made quite a sight for the children and other passer-bys, who were not sure whether this was a freak accident or a freak act.

The answers to all questions, however, could be answered if one could only understand the conversation between a handsome greyhound and a black cat, sitting near the opposite end of the pond. The greyhound grunted, "That was too easy." The black cat, Paula and Pedro's nightmare, grinned a wicked cat's grin and said, "Ronnie, a bet is a bet. I got two humans drenched and it didn't matter that they were stupid. Now where's my share of the barbeque?" Ronnie, the greyhound, wagged his tail, saying, "You got it Samantha. You're the smartest black cat ever!"

Rosy picture: huge flat with terrace, my own room, furniture, luxury and importantly organization. So why wouldn’t I want to move?

It’s been 3 yrs since we moved from Mumbai to Pune. 4th June 1995 was the big day. I saw myself living in this fantastic bungalow 6 months from then. However, six months later we were still living in the rented 2-BHK that was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. This was largely due to the steep property hike, not to mention the discovery that the bungalow was in the middle of a remote swamp. Its now 1998 that the ray picture has become reality but in the meanwhile, we stuck with the rented place. I guess its normal to feel the pangs of separation when you’ve been sticking around for almost three and a half years.

I feel a strong urge to reminisce about some of the images of my current pad – my 2-BHK hovel. I’m not certain that hovels are allowed to have two bedrooms or even one for that matter, but mine does, in as much as the same way that a Dharavi-hut in Mumbai, would have a fridge or a CD-player. We let one bedroom to the stacked suitcases, the cartons and the boxes of all shapes and sizes. However they weren’t as satisfied as we’d anticipated and so some of them took over certain areas of the kitchen as well. Fortunately for us, the curios and other showpieces were a more grounded lot. They all squeezed in with the hi-fi system on the top of my 5ft-by-2 ft cottage piano.

All the furniture I ever wanted was going to be at our new place, so none was here. I have usually been sleeping on one-third, one-fourth and sometimes one-fifth of a bed of two mattresses on the floor. Changing sides in my sleep has become a bit of an experience! Of course, one doesn’t have enough time to muse over these sweet offerings of life then; one is usually more occupied by the unannounced barrage of well-wishers who measure their wishes by the length of their stay: longer is better. So one must always be physically fit enough to dig three suitcases below for spare linen or rummage through about five boxes for that spare pillow. Really, its nothing!

Life is definitely easier in any circumstance if you have the right ambience. In our hovel, we had the best. I mean, at any time of the year, we had north winds, south winds, easterlies or westerlies – in fact, all of them – gracing our hovel with their presence. It was the ultimate exploitation of natural resources because the fans would run without any electricity. Of course, the doors had to take some weathering for the team. But on the other hand, at least they didn’t crack with the heat; there was so much humidity all the year round.

Its one thing to have nature supplying personal climate control but its an altogether different experience to have her working as your interior decorator. And I’m talking living waterfalls in every room! They go drip, drip, drip for most part of the year but during the monsoons, you can actually hear gurgling, bubbling and crackling. How absolutely delightful! And there’s more – maps, yes maps. If all the shops run out of study-maps, you can either despair or you can send your kids over to our place. World maps, maps of India, Japan, Czech, Finland – they’re all on the walls. Pure moss products, guaranteed! The only shortcoming is perhaps that they’re all physical maps. My reasoning is that you can’t really expect nature to involve in politics, now can you?

Our symbiosis with nature is probably more substantiated by the presence of various arthropods, reptiles, birds, mammals and you-just-name-it. We all live mutually in peace and harmony. If nothing else, then simply this spiritual equilibrium is what makes it so difficult for me to bear the thought of how much I’d miss our hovel. I know one thing for sure: our stint here was not a mere fancy of fate. There were genuine, solid grounds for not being able to quit it earlier. Coincidence? I don’t think so. The forces of nature are surely calling to me, beseeching me to go on living here. Nevertheless, with my sights set firmly on that rosy picture, I will have to turn a deaf ear to their pleas. But I’m so blue. I don’t want to move.