Kill You, Sure (17)

             Kill You, Sure (17)

                                         Nidhu Bhusan Das

 

“You’re with me the whole day

Remain till I’m awake

Appear in dream, when asleep.

You’re no more, yet how much with me!”

Bithi remembers the verse often, when alone or feels lonely. Now she jerks to wakefulness at the announcement:” The Boac flight to London takes off soon.Passengers’re requested to be aboard and take seats right away. She takes to her feet and heads on, happy to be again in the region of clouds and be able to float with them like downy cotton which rises when gets released from the boll. She’s slim and in a tryst with the shapeless and spaceless when in thought and on the wings of imagination. A supreme joy visits her in the state of stance. A smile hovers over her face as soon as the plane has taken off.

“My God! I should have told papa and mom. Okay, they’ll know. Tell them at the next stoppage,” Bithi decides and glides to the realm of creative thought.” How come my grandparents are still so fresh even as they’re touching their 50^th anniversary? What’s the unique chemistry between them who are from two distinctly different stocks?”

Her thought veers round to love. Love’s there in everything and everywhere, she perceives. It’s sharing. The sun shares his glory with every member of the solar system. The planets orbit round the sun in love, and do not deviate from their paths.Love’s equality. The polar tips of the earth are as important as the Equator. For her love isn’t, what many think, merely having sensual pleasure. She’d been to Ajmeer and Mathura-Vrindabon with her parents and experienced the serenity connected with this real-ethereal phenomenon.Love, she realizes, is transcendental. The smile generated by love and the other way round, glides higher up – the union of the two humans emerges as the oneness of their souls; at that level the lovers feel the supreme joy.

Again images appear in her mind, her second encounter with Nizam at the Dhaka University campus, the ‘Kill You …’ episodes at JNU, the latest Conor’s ‘Tá aithne agam ort’ greeting,              and all such experiences.” How things happen!” she wonders. Now the world appears to her as a vast and complex entity within the boll of the vaster and still vaster universe.” We’re like cotton in the boll, and like cotton tend to rise higher and higher for the unknown and the coveted when feel free. We’re unlike cotton as we feel the pull of the bond with the earthly relations,” Bithi understands. Her thought is much quicker than the speed of the plane.

She’s now nostalgic about Ireland; she’s visited several times her grand aunt Sharon Kennedy, a professor of Anthropology at Dublin University. The granny told her about the charming folk traditions of Ireland. Sharon took her to the Abbey Theatre which served as a nursery for many of the leading literary figures of the 20th century, including W.B. Yeats, Lady Gregory, Sean O’Casey and J.M. Synge.She told Bithi folktales like that of Leperchuan, a mischievous fairy in emerald green clothing. The Leprechaun is said to have a pot of gold hidden at the end of the rainbow. If ever captured by a human it has the magical power to grant three wishes in exchange for release. The tale of Halloween is also charming.  A popular Irish folk tradition Halloween has its roots in pagan beliefs. Halloween marked the Celtic New Year and was originally called Samhain. The ancient Celts celebrated Samhain with bonfires, games and comical pranks.

Bithi likes folktales as they’re means of travelling to the pagan past and can enjoy being transported to the romantic past. When nature and natural phenomena were given the form, in imagination, of anthropomorphic deities and worshipped, people could have been happier than we’re, thought Bithi depending on her study of social-anthropology. The present day world in which monotheism dominates is fraught with violence and terrorism, she laments. Here man kills man, destroys Nature, and shows scant respect to all living forms as the pagans did. So, we’ve the problems of ecological degradation, terrorism – violence against Nature and fellow beings, she ponders. She’s aware a neo-paganism emerges in the world as some people fed up with the violence tend to find peace of mind. The neo-pagans have respect for all and the desire to participate with other beings.Bithi appreciates this and has the pantheistic view which takes her to the lap of Nature, often.The folklores attract her for this reason.

“Should I call my grandparents neo-pagans?” Bithi asks herself, considering their sustained love in the 50 years of happy conjugal life. She knows they aren’t bothered about their respective monotheistic religions they’re born in. Love’s their religion, and she inherits this from them through her parents.Nizam’s a humanist and nature worshipper like her. Love dominates his thought and action. She isn’t sure of Ankit about this aspect of life.”Maybe, he’s different, it’s better I shouldn’t think on it,” she argues. Nature remains with her always, even when she’s on her wings.(Next to follow soon)

Kill You, Sure (15)

                     Love Making

  Kill You, Sure (15)

                              Nidhu Bhusan Das

   It’s twilight.Evening birds twitter their way back home.Already some tired dryads are roosting on the giant banyan,its huge canopy attracts myriad winged beauties,and they keep the tree eloquent.Divya’s head is cradled on the lap of Ankit.Only the birds witness their amorous togetherness.

“Sorry,I’ve misread you.Now I understand,”Divya goes emotional.

 “Pardon.”

“I shouldn’t have thought that way.”

“What thought?”

“That you’ve tenderness…”

“I have.So what!”

“I mean you…”

“Yes, I love you.”

“You love...me! Is it?”

“Is it wrong?”

“No Ankit,I don’t mean that.”

               Ankit’s unaware of the intended meaning of Divya.Under the canopy,he’s in joy with his girl,who’s now assured of having her coveted man in possession.Ankit doesn't share such feeling with her although they’ve turned one,soul and body.Divya’s back to her room at 9 p.m.,tired but elated.She’s in the washroom to rub off the day’s weariness and the remains of the cause of joy.She gets ready for bed to be in a tranquil sleep and sweet dreams.

“It’s stupid to be in love,” thinks Ankit,lying on his back, awake.Logic has gripped him and brought him back to prosaic sense.The Romantic aura under the tree in the lunar illusion is over after he has the first experience of functional love.He ruminates on how the innocent Green Eyes has been implicated by the jealous girl.”Divya isn’t equal,rather far  below the girl from Dhaka in stature and personality.It’s difficult to go with the girl who is aggressive with the venom of inferiority complex,no matter that she is,like him, from Haryana.

                   Bithi’s in communication with her cousin she will join soon in Maryland.She tells the girl across the Atlantic how an Indian girl in the campus,not familiar with her,is jealous of her imagining that she’s her rival in love.”This is fantastic,”she says with a peel of laughter.”Yes,you’re right,love’s preceded by the sense of possessiveness in this part of the world,”Bithi agrees.

                  Ankit goes out to the library to spend the possible sleepless night in the company of books.He’s a bibliophile,books remain scattered on his bed.Divya didn’t ask,but if you ask he’d tell,without a second thought, “Book’s my first love.Here Divya’s wrong.”

“Are you sure?”Ankit asks himself.Doubt has arisen.Should he be carried away by amour and hang the academic pursuit? Ankit  thinks,seriously.”No Divya,I won’t sacrifice.You too shouldn’t.Let’s do it after degree,”he thinks.

                       The cell phone sounds.Ankit pulls it out.A Hangouts message,from Divya.He opens it: “Where dear?I’m yet to rub off the moments we enjoyed a few hours back.”

Ankit ‘s in two minds.Should he continue or just ignore?She’s become desperate in the present mood.If ignored,she’s sure to despair.He himself cannot deny his role in the buildup to her present desire and desperation.In case he ignores,he will deny his part.It’s against Haryanvi pride and personal honesty.Ankit cannot afford to be dishonest.

“At the library,”Ankit has messaged back,tersely.

“Is it!But why?Won’t you sleep?”

“Something urgent,you know,”he lies.

“Urgent!But what could be more urgent than the sweet memory of two hours after dusk,”Divya tries to understand.

“Ankit,you need have sleep,dear.”

“You know,work on hand,” Ankit’s hesitant.

“You’re naughty,dear.Feel like coming to see,”desires Divya.

The loving tone of the girl takes

                  Ankit back to the event under the tree.The memory rattles the boy.He isn’t in politics,has been a loner craving for a company.Bithi stole his heart but dared not tell her or share with anybody.When Divya approached,his long cherished desire found a mooring, and the evening of coming together was a kind of fulfilment even for him.The Platonic love for the foreigner was replaced by sensual pleasure with the native girl.Now he feels like being with Divya again. “Shall I call her to come?”he thinks with a strong desire to feel her passionate breath on the face.

“Well,come and see,”he replies.

              Divya’s excited.She gets out of bed,promptly puts on casuals,locks the door,and hops down the stairs,rushes to the library.(to be continued)