Boroxhun

Junaki looked into the mirror and considered herself once more. She liked to look into the mirror and smile. She felt that her smile should not be too wide and toothy. It had to be a gracious, warm smile opening just enough to show some teeth but not really the gums. And she had practised so that when Moloy first saw her smile, he did not realise what hit him. It was like 'boroxhun' (pronounced boro-khh-oon meaning rain) on a lovely spring afternoon.

Moloy was regular. Nothing about him was outstanding and at the same time, he was neither ugly nor stupid. In short, he might have been analogous to 'homely' as applied to girls once upon a time. He loved Junaki for her smile. Often, as he passed her house on his way to fish at the village pond, he would steal a glance over the fence. Sometimes he saw her there, drying unhusked rice or sweeping the compound of her house. On the rare occasion that their eyes met, she flashed her signature smile with devastating effect on poor Moloy.

How long could one disregard the yearning of the heart? How long could one ignore the longing for one's soulmate? How long could one risk the danger of losing one's love through inactivity? Had not the wise ones said, "the real losers are the ones who are afraid of losing". He was not afraid of losing. Oh, why was it that God made men and women so disproportionate? Why did the man have to woo a woman? Why did difficult women make better lovers? Why did he always fall in love with impossible women?

Moloy did not therefore waste time and set about wooing the impossible Junaki. He began to linger around her. Chose every pretext, every excuse and every opportunity to talk to her. Women are shrewd. It is built into their sharp wits to detect interest expressed by men. It is in their instincts to smell a rat who might become prince charming. But as the unfair world would have it, Junaki picked up Moloy on her radar, gave a passing glance and then rejected him without even so much as a blink. He was what many young people today will say, "not her type and below her league".

'Junaki, will you come to dance Bihu this year.'

'I might.'

'Please do. There aren't many dancers like you these days and Bihu has become boring. Jahnabi and Geetika are coming. Pavan and Dwipen are already making the rounds to ask the young ladies to the festival. By the way, I am playing the flute.'

'Really. What happened to Bakul da? He plays the flute so well that all of us 'nasonis' (dancers) are sure he is the Krishna of our village.'

And you will say the same woman who is capable of such cruelty becomes the epitome of love and sacrifice. An angry Moloy coloured but kept his calm.

'Bakul da is giving me a chance.'

'I am sure you will play well too.' And she smiled.

And Moloy instantly forgave her. Poor hapless Moloy!

The festivities drew near. Junaki, like many of the girls in the village wove the 'gamucha' and 'seleng' to present to her lover. Girls in Assam weave these with lots of love and put them away. They keep them ready, just in case they fall in love. They would then be well provisioned. For those lucky boys who had lovers, these were delivered well before Bohag Bihu. They sported them to their friends who looked on in envy and wasted time thinking when they too would get these from their girfriends. Or maybe they would get married and then be given them by their wives. It was not the same thing - it definitely was not.

Word was out that Junaki was weaving this season. Moloy's heart skipped a beat. He was not sure. It might...but it might not...what if...oh no! Everyone wondered. Her closest friends were frustrated because they had no idea. She was a mysterious girl. If she were seeing someone, it was a mighty shame that the village grapevine had no idea of it. They tried every way possible but Junaki just said, 'I am not making these for anyone. I am going to keep them away.' This was not what they wanted to hear.

Time for the festival drew near. There would be a village gathering at the temple grounds. After the elders had prayed and sought the blessings of the gods, it was a custom for the youth to take centre stage and perform the first Bihu dance of the year.

On the day of the festival the whole village was up early. Every household held their prayers and then everyone started towards the temple grounds. The young dancers were very excited. They dressed in the costumes and gathered in the school grounds to have one last run through the routine. There was also an instrument check to be performed. All the girls arrived, giggling and chattering. Junaki was missing.

Moloy kept stealing glances towards the nasonis and grew tense as the time for them to walk towards the temple drew near. All the required checks had been made. All the positions discussed. Someone mentioned that Junaki was not there. Someone else said, she was probably not coming. She had come for the practice sessions. Moloy was distracted. Without telling anyone, he started for Junaki's house. Probably she was held up with work. Probably, she was late and was going directly to the temple.

He opened the gate of her house and stepped in. It was silent. If Junaki did not want to come, she would probably be irritated. He was still going to try. he knocked at the door. He heard a soft sound from within. He knocked again. He could hear footsteps approach the door. It clicked and Junaki stood there.

'You aren't ready Junaki?'

'I am not coming Moloy.'

'Why not? You spent so much time practising.'

'I have some work today at the house. We are expecting guests. I stayed back so that my parents could go to the temple.'

She gave half a smile and gave the notion of asking 'Anything else?'

Moloy turbed to leave and she to close the door. Then, as if something occured to him, Moloy stopped.

'Junaki, everyone knows that you wove a seleng this season. Who is it for?'

She looked at him hard. 'For no one Moloy. I am not engaged yet.'

He left. She closed the door and went into the house. Entering her room, she opened her cupboard and took out a freshly woven seleng and gamucha. A small piece of paper fell. She picked it up. She looked at it like she had done evevryday for the last two years. She closed her eyes. Horrifying images danced infront of her eyes. She was moving through the tall grass that grows by the river bank. She was calling out for her pet kid. It had strayed and she could hear it bleat. A whirlwind of images. She saw herself being dragged by two gun men in uniform. One had the kid in his hand. She felt her clothes tear and herself scream. She tried to shut it off but the images kept coming. A lady doctor in the city was saying, 'you must report it to the police.' She was crying now. The paper fell from her hand. She looked at the seleng in her hand and thought of Moloy. With tearful eyes, she looked into the mirror and smiled her smile. As she clung to the seleng and broke down, rain poured outside. Nature's eyes seemed to well up for Moloy and Junaki and Junaki's only possession in this world, one she clung to in the hope of covering every bad thought and evil - her smile.

Vertigo

"Hey Keshab..get up man. Nothing's happened to you. Come, I shall lead you to the car. Lean on me."

I remembered Michael Bolton. I remember in school, Abraham Botoking had sung the song to perfection.

The world was spinning. I was spinning. It was like entering a vortex that seemed to draw me into its core. I felt nauseaous. I retched again.

I faintly remembered a comforting hand on my face while I lay on the couch, coiling up to the spasms of nausea. One hand on my cheek another rubbing my back. I wish I had looked then to see who it was. It was a really kind hand. I remembered a gathering of solemn colleagues murmuring on the best course of action. I recognized the voices. I could feel their concern. I retched again.

"Would you like to drink some tender coconut water?"

Oh no. They thought it was food poisoning.

"I think he fell down."

'Ouch!" someone gasped.

"Did you have brekfast Keshab? What did you have."

I could hardly speak. But I said, "bread toast with butter and tea."

There was again a murmur. They were now discussing whether the butter could be bad. Or maybe the bread.

"Not Keshab. He keeps fresh stuff."

I must remember to give that person a treat.

"I thought he vomited blood in the bathroom."

I remembered calling him from the bathroom through my cell phone. He had come and helped me out of there. I could not keep my balance. I was terribly ill. I thought of my will. What if the time had come? I had not even prepared my will. I could kick myself for not taking care of these matters. I made a mental note of making my will if I survived.

"Keshab, do you need an ambulance?"

There started at that point a discussion on the best possible place to take me to.

"Sagar Apollo will be costly. Ramkrishna nursing home is better."

"He might have to be hospitalized. Take him to Wockhardt."

"He won't be hospitalized. They will just give an injection and he will be all right."

I was wheeled into the OPD of Sagar Apollo. I was made to lie down on the bed. That felt good. At once a group of doctors and nurses pounced upon me. They took an ECG, blood sample and gave me an injection. All at once and simultaneously. After about five minutes of all that, they removed all the attachments on my chest and hands and asked me to rest. The consulting physician came. Someone was running him through my readings. "Pulse 79, BP 148 by 90. ECG normal. Patient is vomiting."

The physician did his checks. The colleagues who had come with me gathered round him.

"Vertigo", the doctor annouced.

"Is this a clinical condition. Is something wrong?"

"It could happen to anyone. You. Me. It could be because of suffocation, claustrophobia, irritation from cigarette smoke."

"But I don't smoke in the office."

I made a mental note to tell him it was not his fault. How silly!

I fell into a slumber. It was deep and soothing. "The injection..." I thought.

I returned to office a day after.

"Keshab! How are you dear? We were so worried."

"How are you? Whatever happened?"

"We better be careful. He just might get Vertigo again."

"I thought that was some Alfred Hitchcock movie."

"Yes it is."

"Cool!"