Mocking a Tale

My Feeble Attempts at Fictions.
Wednesday, 27 June, 2012

The Moment

I think I've arrived there finally. Probably, more than a decade late. But almost there. Mere presence of someone in my vicinity is stirring me. I try to remember when was the last time I felt like this, if ever. 

His eyes are playing. More as his body moves with the rhythm. His feet flawless. 

He holds out his hands, I take them. They are surprisingly cold, for a man sweating so profusely. I pretend to play distracted, while he plays distant (I'd like to think he is playing it) for such small distance between our bodies. The pace of the rhythm increases, so does his, followed by my feet, almost involuntarily. Being led by him, on the dance floor, with my heels producing a sweet melody of their own to match with the Latin music, is intoxicating if I am not understating it. He pulls me in his arms and locks me in. I can feel his rapid breath on my neck. While he motions me in circles to the circumference of the dance floor, I can see our reflections in the huge mirrors. Visible difference in our heights. He is somewhere between six feet 2 and 3 inches while I can see an invisible foot ruler hanging on my head to reach his. 

He turns me around and I find myself looking into his eyes, feeling those broad shoulders under my fingers. God, he moves so swiftly. 
The sound of applause breaks my chant and I look around to see people looking appreciatively at us. He is standing beside me, with his arm around my waist. The charge between us, I'd give anything away to be here, at this moment.
The instructor approaches us and the next thing I know is he is gone. 

I fall back into reality with a thud. 
The moment has passed. 

As I collect my things, I see him at the far end of the gym, collecting his hand towel from his bag. He smiles at me. I return the smile. The formal smile. He is again, a person I know from the dance class, not my type, with an expression that clearly tell me that I am not his type either. But then, a question pops in my head 'what exactly is your type?' I decide to put it on halt, for later.
I say bye to almost everyone on my way to the exit. I start to say bye to him (the formal one) he interrupts to ask me if I am joining the new evening class, I say I haven't decided yet. 'It's going to be fun' he is telling me. 

He persuading me. That's my ego smiling sarcastically. 'I'll think' I say and step out of the exit door.

Friday, 23 March, 2012

The Guest- Finale

Read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here.

He is strumming my favorite song on my guitar as I open my eyes. I had napped while talking to him.
Ain't no sunshine, when she's gone.
Some songs have associations attached to them. When you stop getting reminded of a certain person on hearing a song, you're over them.
He played this tune some 20 yrs ago over the phone. I still clearly remember.
I sit across him by the fireplace. He is smiling at me. Playing the same tune. Ain't no sunshine, when she's gone.
This is the moment when I realize the song he used to play for me, is meant for his daughter now.
'Sing along?' He says.
'I don't sing.'
'You do.'
'I did.'


I place his laundry on the couch. He is busy reading this book. He turns around and finds his return ticket over the pile of his clothes.
He looks at me.
'You realized last night that I was missing my daughter?'
'Yes.' I smile.
'When does the train leave?'
'In an hour.'
'Are you coming to railway station?'
'Can I come back sometime?'
He zips his LV.
'I'm going to miss you.'
I go inside as I hear him strolling out of the front door.

Saturday, 17 March, 2012

The Guest- II

Read Part 1 here.

He is ruffling his hair dry with a white towel while walking out from the bathroom. My white towel. I see he has made himself comfortable around the house, using my things. This towel is going with him.
I hand him a plate of fresh pancakes and a large cup of coffee. He smiles while I grab my breakfast from the kitchen slab and take the chair opposite to his.

'What did you tell your wife, where were you going?' I ask him casually.
'She knows I am here. In fact, she insisted me to visit you.'
'She's that cool? Are you impotent?'
'I have two kids.' He is smiling.
'So, how does that prove you're potent?'
'They resemble me.'
'I might not let you go back after all.'
'Given your past record, that sounds a little not possible.'
'I am a changed person.'
'I've been missing you a lot lately. The wife told me to visit you. She was the one to find out your hibernation address.'
'I'm not hibernating.' I sip my coffee.
'Your cooking has become tastier.'
'Your grammar still sucks.'
 He chuckles.

Part 3, soon.

Tuesday, 13 March, 2012

The Guest- Pilot

Walking the narrow path down the hill to my home, I today think of the day I walked this way the first time. I instantly liked the house and the pavement that led to it. Calm, green and standing lonely. All what I wanted and needed.

My eyes get stuck on an oak tree. An old, withered tree and I see a burrow underneath that tree. A bunny is sitting cozy. I smile. Taking my eyes of the bunny, I continue walking towards the house. A human figure is visible sitting on the porch. I can't make out who, from the distance. I am not expecting anyone to show up. 

Looks like a man, who is looking away. All I can see is his back. A check shirt in blue and white. I continue walking.

He turns. He must have heard my footstep approaching the house and crushing of the dry leaves. I stop. Not that I am shocked or happy or even sad to see this face in such a long time. A smiling face. A little withered and old than last time I remember setting eyes on this face. The same eyes.

I stand there for a few minutes looking at that face while he shifts in his sitting position waiting for me to make a move. There is nothing going on in my mind. Probably the mind is adapting to that sight. Very much like the eyes adapt to sudden darkness or sudden light. 

'How long have you been sitting here?' I finally walk towards him. 
'For 2 hours, 48 minutes to be precise' He is looking at this wrist watch.
I seat myself beside him. None of say anything for a few minutes, looking in no direction in particular. Looks like we are absorbing each others' presence.
'How long are you going to stay?' I look at his luggage. An expensive Louise Vuitton travel bag that looks stuffed.
'As long as you let me.' He is looking at me. 
'Got no work?'
'Work has been going on since forever and will keep on going.'
'You'll have to sleep on the couch.'
'No problem with that.' He is still smiling.
'Do not expect me to take your luggage inside'. I am unlocking the door.
He chuckles and follows me inside the house strolling his LV.

Next part, soon.

Sunday, 11 March, 2012

Dream Destination

He: What is your dream destination?
She: I don't know. Anywhere I could be with you. What is yours?
He: You.