In the evening Neera tried calling Jeff twice and each time got disconnected. No lines open perhaps. The village got crappy network but she was glad that there was any.
The eager anticipation of hearing Jeff’s voice was replaced by the nervous resentment of not getting him over the phone when she wanted to. By this time Jeff would be usually up and ready for his daily commute to work, unless he had been staying up most of the night. Jealousy and suspicion are time-tested aides of bad relationships, more so when distance separates minds and insecurity misconstrues emotions.
“This is the last time” said Neera as she dialed the number again. Perhaps she thought she will be third time lucky.
“Hey Nee”, Jeff’s voice on the other side said.
“I’ve been dying to talk to you!”. Neera could hardly control herself. “I wanted to tell you about...” her sentence was cut short by Jeff.
“Neeeee ! Its real early here and I’m trying to get some sleep. Got back home real late last night. Lets talk about this later okay? How about I call you ?”
Neera wanted to slam the cell-phone to the ground. It was 7:00am in NYC, not so early for a Monday morning. And they hadn’t spoken since she had got here. But if Jeff wanted to sleep there was nothing much she could say to that, could she?
There was something wrong in this relationship. Until this point she could see those signals, the red flags so to speak, which she chose to overlook.
She was going to wait.
And later that night, she waited. For her eyelids to succumb to exhaustion; her body to crumble inside a fuzzy hole driven only by dreams and nothing else. Exhaustion from a day of long walks abated the jittery weariness from waiting (for sleep, for a phone call, for the body to collapse) to a certain degree; but Neera still struggled to drown into the blank sphere of sleep.
The fact that Neera needed to get up early the next day for her trip back to Kolkata, wasn’t helping her. The old wooden bed creaked every time Neera turned to the other side. Outside her tiny bedroom fireflies and strange insects giggled in the dark making eerie noises. Neera lay awake for a long time on her bed, under the mosquito net hanging by the strings and tucked at the corners; listening to the fireflies outside.
*****************************************
The next morning itunes alarm broke her sleep. She woke up, short-of-sleep and heavy-hearted from last night. Unlike yesterday morning, today was dark and unfamiliar. Neera had no idea why she wanted to come to the village. She should have been back with Jeff in NYC and carpooling with him to work.
It was so early that the morning sounds hadn’t even started. No chants of the medieval mantras at the temple courtyard, no beating of the khols, no tinkling of the manjiraas.
In the dark room the mosquitoes made buzzing sounds, plotting to get inside the mosquito net. Neera got out of bed and was looking for her slippers when she heard a loud knock at the door. She almost gave out a scream when she heard the voice: It was Lenin dadu’s voice, only it sounded more shrill than usual.
“Neera! Are you awake? I heard the alarm”.
She was afraid.
*********************************
Concluding part soon!
*********************************
khol: Traditional drums popular in east India, esp. Bengal
manjiraas: Indian percussion instrument, hand cymbals
The eager anticipation of hearing Jeff’s voice was replaced by the nervous resentment of not getting him over the phone when she wanted to. By this time Jeff would be usually up and ready for his daily commute to work, unless he had been staying up most of the night. Jealousy and suspicion are time-tested aides of bad relationships, more so when distance separates minds and insecurity misconstrues emotions.
“This is the last time” said Neera as she dialed the number again. Perhaps she thought she will be third time lucky.
“Hey Nee”, Jeff’s voice on the other side said.
“I’ve been dying to talk to you!”. Neera could hardly control herself. “I wanted to tell you about...” her sentence was cut short by Jeff.
“Neeeee ! Its real early here and I’m trying to get some sleep. Got back home real late last night. Lets talk about this later okay? How about I call you ?”
Neera wanted to slam the cell-phone to the ground. It was 7:00am in NYC, not so early for a Monday morning. And they hadn’t spoken since she had got here. But if Jeff wanted to sleep there was nothing much she could say to that, could she?
There was something wrong in this relationship. Until this point she could see those signals, the red flags so to speak, which she chose to overlook.
She was going to wait.
And later that night, she waited. For her eyelids to succumb to exhaustion; her body to crumble inside a fuzzy hole driven only by dreams and nothing else. Exhaustion from a day of long walks abated the jittery weariness from waiting (for sleep, for a phone call, for the body to collapse) to a certain degree; but Neera still struggled to drown into the blank sphere of sleep.
The fact that Neera needed to get up early the next day for her trip back to Kolkata, wasn’t helping her. The old wooden bed creaked every time Neera turned to the other side. Outside her tiny bedroom fireflies and strange insects giggled in the dark making eerie noises. Neera lay awake for a long time on her bed, under the mosquito net hanging by the strings and tucked at the corners; listening to the fireflies outside.
*****************************************
The next morning itunes alarm broke her sleep. She woke up, short-of-sleep and heavy-hearted from last night. Unlike yesterday morning, today was dark and unfamiliar. Neera had no idea why she wanted to come to the village. She should have been back with Jeff in NYC and carpooling with him to work.
It was so early that the morning sounds hadn’t even started. No chants of the medieval mantras at the temple courtyard, no beating of the khols, no tinkling of the manjiraas.
In the dark room the mosquitoes made buzzing sounds, plotting to get inside the mosquito net. Neera got out of bed and was looking for her slippers when she heard a loud knock at the door. She almost gave out a scream when she heard the voice: It was Lenin dadu’s voice, only it sounded more shrill than usual.
“Neera! Are you awake? I heard the alarm”.
She was afraid.
*********************************
Concluding part soon!
*********************************
khol: Traditional drums popular in east India, esp. Bengal
manjiraas: Indian percussion instrument, hand cymbals
Comments
Yeah...men can be like that but there are some among us who end up doing a lot of the waiting around.
I think I'll wait for you to wrap it up properly. This last part needs to live up to a lot (howz that for putting pressure on a writer? :) ).
Cheers!