manjul_bajaj
Not Again
Delhi, 23rd June, 1977
Has been gone two nights and it will be a miracle if she is safe. Or alive even.
Delhi, 25th June, 1977
Found her sitting with the beggars in Hanuman Mandir strumming a Janis Joplin number. Felt the first real surge of breath enter my lungs in 2 days when I saw her there in those murky shadows, among the hardened women, in the temple courtyard among the makeshift incense and flower stalls.
Blue jeans, white vest, long, wavy hair, guitar on her lap.
What exactly did she think she was doing? I reached her and shook her by the shoulders. The women looked on interestedly as I dragged her back home. It must be her older sister I heard them speculate.
Delhi 26th June, 1977
Took her back to her parents.
Uncle said if she didn’t like him they would cancel the engagement. Why was she behaving like this, they wanted to know.
Bombay, 25th December, 1988
Got a phone call from her husband. He was sorry he had to bother me but “her parents said you were the only one she would listen to in this state.”
Calcutta, 28th December, 1988
I found her on the subway. Same streaming hair, same abandoned eyes. She was singing, “Ekela chaalo re” and passersby were throwing coins at her. I could have killed her. Or them. Or anyone just then.
Took her to her house.
Two little daughters. They clung to her knees. She absently stroked their hair. Searching my face, as she did so. Her husband looked distraught, wanted me to stay longer.
I left as soon as I could. He looked like a good man. She would be alright.
Mumbai, 25th December, 2007
There is a woman beggar on Juhu beach, the local papers say, who speaks flawless English and sings for beach goers. They found her and took her back to her home in Calcutta - she is apparently a retired Professor of English from Jadavpur University.
Please God - it’s not her.
Mumbai, 31st, December 2007
The woman is back on Juhu beach. Her husband is dead she says. Her daughters married and living abroad. She has burnt her flat this time around. She doesn’t want to be taken back there.
Mumbai, 1st January 2008
She is sitting, vacant eyed, on Juhu beach scattering Rumi’s verses amongst the gulls when I reach. Recognition flickers briefly in her wild eyes as she sees me kneel down beside her, “Now where will you take me?” she laughs hysterically.
I take her in my arms where she has always belonged.
I want to say I’m sorry I was such a coward. I want to say I’m sorry I kept running away. I won’t now. Not again. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize. Whatever our laws or society may say there are bigger crimes in this world than same sex love.
I won’t commit them again.
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Delhi, 23rd June, 1977
Has been gone two nights and it will be a miracle if she is safe. Or alive even.
Delhi, 25th June, 1977
Found her sitting with the beggars in Hanuman Mandir strumming a Janis Joplin number. Felt the first real surge of breath enter my lungs in 2 days when I saw her there in those murky shadows, among the hardened women, in the temple courtyard among the makeshift incense and flower stalls.
Blue jeans, white vest, long, wavy hair, guitar on her lap.
What exactly did she think she was doing? I reached her and shook her by the shoulders. The women looked on interestedly as I dragged her back home. It must be her older sister I heard them speculate.
Delhi 26th June, 1977
Took her back to her parents.
Uncle said if she didn’t like him they would cancel the engagement. Why was she behaving like this, they wanted to know.
Bombay, 25th December, 1988
Got a phone call from her husband. He was sorry he had to bother me but “her parents said you were the only one she would listen to in this state.”
Calcutta, 28th December, 1988
I found her on the subway. Same streaming hair, same abandoned eyes. She was singing, “Ekela chaalo re” and passersby were throwing coins at her. I could have killed her. Or them. Or anyone just then.
Took her to her house.
Two little daughters. They clung to her knees. She absently stroked their hair. Searching my face, as she did so. Her husband looked distraught, wanted me to stay longer.
I left as soon as I could. He looked like a good man. She would be alright.
Mumbai, 25th December, 2007
There is a woman beggar on Juhu beach, the local papers say, who speaks flawless English and sings for beach goers. They found her and took her back to her home in Calcutta - she is apparently a retired Professor of English from Jadavpur University.
Please God - it’s not her.
Mumbai, 31st, December 2007
The woman is back on Juhu beach. Her husband is dead she says. Her daughters married and living abroad. She has burnt her flat this time around. She doesn’t want to be taken back there.
Mumbai, 1st January 2008
She is sitting, vacant eyed, on Juhu beach scattering Rumi’s verses amongst the gulls when I reach. Recognition flickers briefly in her wild eyes as she sees me kneel down beside her, “Now where will you take me?” she laughs hysterically.
I take her in my arms where she has always belonged.
I want to say I’m sorry I was such a coward. I want to say I’m sorry I kept running away. I won’t now. Not again. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize. Whatever our laws or society may say there are bigger crimes in this world than same sex love.
I won’t commit them again.
Poll Rate this entry