The Past!

The streets were absolutely silent, not even a stray dog was to be spotted. It might have been around four thirty in the morning, but one couldn't determine whether it was day or night. The lanes were dark and should have been silent, but that was not the case here. 

As I walked past houses clustered together like rows and rows of unkempt books, I could hear every other home abuzz with strange noises that one identifies with the kitchen. A clang of fallen spatula here, a shrieking whistle from a pressure cooker there, many such voices kept breaking the silence of an otherwise silent morning. 

How long had it been since I had entered a kitchen this early in the morning? Months? Years? I couldn't remember any longer, though I could recall vaguely the rush of adrenaline I used to wake up with. There was never a moment to spare. As soon as I opened my eyes, a mad rush to finish tasks would begin. Cooking, packing, sending everyone to their respective activities or jobs, then keeping the house in order before rushing out myself. It was only at my workplace that I got to sit down for a while, but it would not be long before the madness began again. Meetings that went on forever, files that had to be tended to before the day was over and so many other mindless things that seem all too senseless now. 

I couldn't hold back a smirk when I recalled all those cigarette breaks I used to take during work hours. My team had been worried sick and had held many interventions asking me to quit. At times they had even suggested therapy. Unmindful of all their pleadings, I
still kept taking those breaks. What none of them realised was that I did not smoke at all. Since smoking was not allowed inside the building, one had to go out in the open if they felt like smoking. It was a chance to step out of all that dull work. A way to escape the noises in my head that overwhelmed me from time to time as I tried to make sense of the work that I did. Working in a corporate firm was taxing. It used to get on my nerves. Those cigarette breaks I took was my only salvation for then I stepped into a world of imagination. 

Suddenly a radio blared some devotional song somewhere near and I was suddenly pulled back into the present. The sky had started lightening and as I approached the next turn, I saw a man leaning casually with a cigarette in his hand and a camera around his neck. During my travels I had met many of these people.They identified themselves as street photographers. I had spent some time with few such traveler photographers. They were some memorable days. The way they see life was so different. The usual rules of society didn't seem to hold them back. They created their own world and were content in it. Even when they were alone, they didn't seem lonely. 

I may have stared at him for a moment longer than necessary I presume, for he gave a lopsided smile and tipped an imaginary hat in greeting. There was such a boyish charm to that smile, quite irresistible. I smiled and moved forward when something stopped me in my tracks. He looked vaguely familiar, like a book half read and forgotten. What was it about his face that reminded me of my past? What was this feeling that suddenly fluttered somewhere in my stomach.

Archie!!!!!

Good lord! Was it Archie? After all these years, in the midst of nowhere, how was it even possible? So many questions rose up in my head at that moment. I had to know for sure if it indeed was Benjamin Archie Jacob. I turned and looked at him once again. He had gone back to enjoying his cigarette. The first rays of sun had started lightning up the sky and sun had started raising its head from in between the buildings that surrounded us. I loved to look at the sun during this time of the day. True to its character, the sun did look like a beautiful star during this time. Life forms had started materialising out of its hiding places. A dog moved slightly, yawning as it prepared to welcome a new day. He had his lens directed to this dog and was so intent in his shot that he did not feel me approach him. 

I stood in silence, waiting for him to become aware of my presence. The dog, having woken up completely now, stood up and left the space for its daily rounds. Having got his shot, he stood and turned to where I was standing. I looked at his face keenly now. He has a beard and a moustache now. And he looked so tall. But his eyes were still dreamy and his lips still curved like a cupid’s bow when he smiled. That well remembered, yet now forgotten face was indeed that of Archie. All those shared moments of laughter and pain came rushing back. I looked once more into his eyes and realised that he had not recognised me. 

Ouch! That pinched a bit. I had voluntarily left behind my life and identity a while back, but I had not realised that it was so easy for others to forget me. Archie smiled once again and raised his brows and asked, “Lost, are we?” I could sense the laughter in his voice. So much about him had changed, yet so much remained the same. Heaving a deep sigh, I shook my head in negative and decided to move on. 

“There is a coffee shop nearby you know.” I paused once again in my tracks as he continued speaking. “They make the most amazing Masala Dosas. Come, let's eat!” And just like that, like a naive little girl, I followed him, just as I used to in the past. Past! She thought she had left it all behind, but the realisation sunk in that not everything was forgotten. Some memories were so fresh, like it had happened just yesterday. She could not stop the memories from flooding in.

“Archie!” I cried with indignation. “You broke my bangles. Again!” Mumma is going to be so mad at me this time. I started running away, but he grabbed my pigtails and pulled back. I stumbled and fell on him, and as I fell, I started punching him everywhere my tiny fist could reach. Instead of wincing in pain, Archie started laughing that devilish laugh of his. At eight, he was taller and bulkier than me, but being just four, and tiny, I could wriggle out of his grasp easily. Damn my pigtails though. He was forever grabbing them to keep me from running away. 

Our mothers had been best friends since their childhood. Aunt Rose and mumma had stayed friends even when they had moved to another country. Both friends had shared many letters over the years until Uncle George had decided to come back and settle in their ancestral home. That was the day my troubles had started. I loved Aunt Rose. Rosy cheeks, a smile that lit her face up and voice like tinkling bells, she was the prettiest woman I had laid my eyes on. Everything good comes with a side effect though. Along with her came Archie. Curly hair, mischievous eyes and pockets always bulging with some monstrosity or the other.

He had sneaked in an ugly frog and slipped it into the back of my dress. I had been on the balcony of my home and as soon as I sensed something creeping on the bare skin of my back, I tried to raise my hands to shake it off. Archie had foreseen this and had grabbed my wrist, making sure that there was no escape; neither for the frog, nor for me. I scolded him, but he did not budge. I pleaded next, but that did not work either. It was only when i promised to give him my share of cookies from tea later in the evening that he let my hand go. It was with great sense of relief that I got rid of the frog, but by then my beautiful blue bangles were broken. He seemed to enjoy doing this to those shiny little plastic rings around my wrist. I made a mental note to myself that i would get back at him for this some day. 

I had loved him as much as I had hated him. Even though he played pranks on me all the time, he never allowed anyone else trouble me. He made sure that I always got the biggest of the cookies, and then would go ahead and steal it from later. He would tell me stories of fairies and dragons and witches, all of which he would have cooked up in that mischievous head of his. I loved these stories. It would transport me into a magical land where he would defend me from scary dragons and fight off those evil witches. I had loved him and loved him until I forgot how to stop loving him.

Hot vapours caressed my brows, bringing me back to the present once again. Archie seemed to be staring at me. “Have we met before”? He asked. “Why do you seem so familiar”. I looked into his eyes, contemplating whether or not to tell him who I was. The last time we met, he had been 17. 

They had left once more to some different city with promises of staying connected, and though we exchanged many letters for a long while, it was not long before life got in between. There had been occasional visits, but they were too short and far apart. It had been mostly while i was away for the vacations, thus i had missed meeting him. Thus it was no surprise that he could not recognise me.  How could I forget that face which had haunted my dreams though? A fifteen year old me was heartbroken when they had gone. He had been my best friend, the only person I looked up to at that time.

Archie seemed to be waiting for me to answer the question, so I shrugged in a vague manner and dug into hot idlies submerged in a bowl full of sambar. He looked a second longer at me before giving up. I asked him about the city. He mentioned that he had reached a couple of weeks ago as part of some business tour and had been coming one these early morning walks to explore the city when it was mostly silent. I smiled at that, for memories of paths a lanky explorer rushed in. Archie noticed the smile and frowned.

“A smile that reminds me of home.” he murmured. “Are you sure we don't know each other”?

I shrugged once again and kept walking further. We had reached a picturesque bridge by now. Under it ran a little stream, dancing a merry dance as it splashed across smooth rounded pebbles. I turned to him and said, “ Thank you for this morning. I will take your leave now. If chance be, our paths cross again. So long my friend.” He looked startled at the sudden departure, but did not stop me. Strange are the workings of fate. For years we had been inseparable and then we barely saw each other for over two decades. Now as we crossed our prime and stepped into middle age, we were once again face to face, but as strangers. 

I turned and had taken some ten steps when Archie called out. “At least leave me with a name.” I went back to him and gave him a bear hug as I whispered in his ears, “Close your eyes and let your senses guide you. I am but a memory, it won't be long before you find me. Till then, it's goodbye.” With a smile I left him at the foot of that bridge. If i were honest to myself, all i wanted to do was remain right there with him. He smelled of home and it had been a long while since i had anywhere that could be called home. If I had waited a moment longer, I may have revealed who I was to him, but it was not to be. In my heart i knew that this journey that i had embarked on was a journey of self discovery and understanding. 

My Life after Archie had broken me in many ways. I needed time to heal. I needed to find who I was. Thus, it was imperative that I continued on this journey that did not seem to have an end. For once I was sure that letting go was the right thing to do. Maybe the universe had put him in front of me to remind me that no matter where i went, no matter how far i travelled, there would be only one place called home. But home was still a distant dream. My thoughts wandered back to Archie. It had brought a fresh wave of hope to meet him so unexpectedly. Like silent waves meeting and parting from the shores that always stayed put, we had met and parted once again. As a parting gift, I had left him one of the many bangles that I still wore on my wrists in his camera bag. Someday soon he would spot it there. Would he remember me then?