Thus Spake Kamla

“Dreams are elusive
Your girl is right next to you
Catch her while you can”

Thus spake Kamla to me yesterday, in a somewhat disapproving tone I suspect. She had read something I had written in a moment of poetic madness and thought it best to warn me to be on my guard. I didn't miss that she had chosen to discuss matters via a haiku. It left a lasting impression on me of course. Since Kamla has been a dear friend ever since I arrived in this fairyland, I took her advice rather seriously.

And looked around to see if there was a girl right next to me.

She was there indeed, though not right next to me. She was sitting on the balcony in a cosy corner, watching the waves crash on the shore. Rows and rows of frothy delight dancing in total abandon against the dense darkness of the evening sky.

Well, not totally dense. There was a lonely star up there that seemed to twinkle merrily as it witnessed the crazy business that kept the world preoccupied.

Sorry, I am digressing. I was talking about Kamla’s advice that I “catch her while I can”.

I leaped from my chair and landed “right next” to her as Kamla desired. And caught hold of her.

Much to my amazement, she screamed in terror. “Where the hell are you oj? Someone’s snatching my ornaments … Help! Help!”

“Are you dreaming?” I asked taken by complete surprise. “Dreams are elusive.”

She wriggled out of my hug and quickly turned on the light. “What on earth are you up to, may I ask?” she asked, still shivering it seemed. I was almost certain that I had given her what’s commonly called a shock.

I stared at her stupidly for a while. And then, remembering Kamla’s remonstration, made yet another advance towards her. She was horrified this time and began to run. I pursued her around the bed and she kept on asking me with unrestrained agony if I had gone totally crazy. And that meant I think that my craziness was an established fact. The only additional information she sought was whether it was “total”.

“No,” I said, “I am not crazy at all. I am just trying to catch you while I can.”

“What do you mean? Why should you try to catch me? Am I a cricket ball?”

We were facing each other now from opposite ends of the bed.

“No. You are my girl and I am supposed to catch you while I can.”

She began to wail. “Haven’t you given me enough trouble throughout my miserable life? What’s this catchzophrenia that has taken possession of you now? I was happily dreaming about my childhood days and watching the sea. And then this …” She couldn’t finish what she had in mind. She was close to a breakdown I thought.

“Kamla asked me to catch you while I could,” I told her.

“Kamla? Who’s Kamla?” she asked quite incredulous.

“I don’t know who Kamla is. But I think she is Sujata.” Now that Kamla's identity was clearly established, I recommenced my chase. “Dreams are elusive,” I explained at the same time. “You shouldn’t have been dreaming of your childhood. Kamla says so.”

She rushed towards the door with alacrity with me in hot pursuit. But she was inside the elevator before I could enter it. So I had to wait for a few minutes.

I assumed she had gone to the ground floor and that’s where I alighted too. I was not mistaken, for I saw a woman in a green saree rush out into the street through the gates. I ran too and was pretty close to catching her (as per Kamla’s sagacious advice recall) when a car obstructed my view from the right. I quickly caught hold of her with my right hand.

“Take care,” I shrieked in alarm. “These drivers don’t follow road rules. You can be run over. When will you …”

I couldn’t finish. For my wife’s voice spoke from my left. When I thought she was standing to my right, held firmly by me and me alone.

“Whose hand are you holding now?” she growled.

I looked to my left and did see her loud and clear. Clad in her green silk saree.

“Eh?” said I and quickly glanced to my right. Indeed, I was holding tightly on to a lady’s hand. It was the first time in my life that I had seen that hand, leave alone held it.” I had been too engrossed with the car to check whose hand I had ended up grabbing.

She was accompanied by a man who might have been her husband. He was younger of course and obviously much stronger than me. The pair was staring at me in total disbelief.

“Sorry Sir,” I said. “I thought your wife was my wife,” I stammered in clarification. “Oh no, sorry, that’s not what I meant. Actually, I mistook my wife as yours … Well, not really that either … What I mean is that I don’t clearly know what I mean you see ... but I didn't want her to be run over by a car … Not your wife, I mean my wife.” I stumbled to a stop.

The man’s eyes were turning ever more alarming. With suspicious intentions he approached me and I had no choice but to seek my true wife’s hand this time.

“This is my wife,” I came out with an unsolicited introduction and held on to her hand to prove the point. Only, in my confusion, I had forgotten to let go of the other woman’s hand. So, there I stood on the open street, in full view of the public, holding on to two women, one with my right hand and the other with my left.

Whatever the man thought, I could see that the woman was not particularly disturbed. She started to giggle. I think, guessing my true age, she assumed that I was suffering from Parkinson’s. My wife in the meantime came and unloosened my grip so that the lady could be free to live her life. Along with her male companion I guess. Not me, I was not that companion, a detail that should not be missed.

My wife stared at me for a long moment and finally smiled too. But she didn’t seem amused. It was a textbook case of a Mona Lisa smile. Inscrutable.

“Who was this woman?” she asked. “Kamla or Sujata?”

“Neither,” said I, trying to regain my poise. “I mean I have no idea …”

“Catch her while you can, huh?” she interrogated.

“Yes, that’s what Kamla said,” I replied.

“Hmmm … dreams are elusive …“ She started walking back towards the hotel. I trotted behind loyally.

Suddenly she made an about turn and looked straight at me, face turned to stone.

“Do you know that your student once came and touched my feet?” she asked.

“What’s wrong in that? You are Gurupatni after all.”

“Yes, perhaps so. But that’s not why she touched my feet. She had an opinion to share with me. Can you imagine what that was?”

“No, how could I? I was not around.”

“She said it was a miracle that I have been able to survive in your company for so long. That I must be God’s chosen one. That's why she touched my feet. I was an Avatar in her opinion.”

“What?” I exclaimed in righteous indignation. “Why should she have said so?”

“You made her revise her PhD dissertation 9 times before you approved it.”

I felt relieved. “I see, then it was not the Italian girl.”

“What Italian girl?” she frowned.

“The one who had to revise 13 times. I should have known. She wouldn’t have touched your feet.”

She was about to reply, but gave up on second thoughts perhaps. She looked up at the sky, pointed her right hand index finger at me and then threw her hands up in the air in despair.

The star above was still twinkling. Perhaps the two of them communicated. Perhaps they didn’t.


I doubt that she will ever agree to reveal that secret to me.

​

Alone, alone, all, all alone ...​

 

Thank you dear. I hoped some would laugh at least.

All the best.

oj

 

That was a lovely haiku usha. Simply loved it. I am happy thay you enjoyed the drama. As my teacher Utpal Dutt used to say, it is more difficult to make the audience laugh than to make them cry. If you laughed, I guess I should considered my effort a success.

oj-da

 

Dear Balajee:

Absolutely so.

oj

 

Dear Mithila:

Thank you so much for reading and enjoying. The whole idea was fun. No more, no less. It's possible though that IL is getting a little tired of my variety of fun!

Perhaps I should keep a low profile. Recently I had probably been far too much at large for the peace and prosperity of IL.

But I do thank you again and appreciate your gesture.

Best wishes.

oj