The Yellow Rose : Prema Shah
Awaiting Doomsday : Dev Kumari Thapa
R.K. : Maya Thakuri
The Angel Love : Indira Prasai
The Yellow Rose
Prema Shah
Translated from Nepali by Ann Hunkins
I’ve been unable to write for two months. As I turn the empty pages of this diary, I feel a great emptiness growing inside of me. What sort of emptiness this is, I don’t even know. I’m tired very thin now and sometimes blood comes up mixed with my saliva, dark red blood that dazzles my eyes. It turns out i have tuberculosis. Who knows how long I’ve had it, but I found out eight months ago and I’ve been in this sanitarium ever since. The doctor said my right lung was already quite bad when he saw my chest x-ray and that was quite sometime ago.Honestly,i feel as though all that’s left is for my rotten lungs to drop out one after the other. I asked my husband if I could see my x-ray and he said I could but he still hasn’t shown it to me. He tells nothing is wrong with me. He says I shall be well soon.Oh, it amazes me; why does he try to fool me like this? What’s left now? I’ve already been deceived as much as a person can be before this! My own weakness has left me with this saliva streaked with blood, these rotted lungs. How much more can I be deceived; how much more can I bear!
He shows me so much affection and takes such good care of me; he comes often and stays with me for hours and hours. Doesn’t he know what horribly contagious disease I’ve got? Yet he isn’t afraid and he isn’t disgusted. On the contrary, he sits on my bed and holds me tight. I really worry about him; so what can I do? When I remember what he did yesterday, I tremble in fear. While he was sitting with me, i was seized with a long spasm of coughing that seemed as if it would bring up my quivering heart and he was so frightened I didn’t even realize I had coughed a little clot of blood mixed with saliva that dribbled all over my chin; I only discovered it after he had wiped it up with his own silk handkerchief. His carelessness shocks me; he’s just like a child! Earlier this afternoon when he put his hand into his coat pocket, that handkerchief came out, encrusted with the mess. Why did he have to use that handkerchief? There was a towel hanging from the stand near my bed. That handkerchief was so pretty, pure pink silk; I was the one who bought it for him and he was so happy to have it. I love the color pink; almost all the clothes in my trunks and cabinets are pink. Every time I see the color, I feel incredibly happy so he jokes: Shall I keep you in a pink tub all the time or what? He respects my happiness and my desires too. At home, he’s planted pink geraniums all across the lawn of dubograss in front of the drawing room. I used to sit among the pink flowers for hours and watch the pleasant evening clouds. It was blissful. Now it’s been eight months. I’m here and who will look after those flowers? Those pink geraniums! The pink handkerchief! Alas! How could it get so encrusted with filth? The germs from my lungs must be swarming all over his coat now. Ugh! Even if he washed it, what would anyone do with this diseased handkerchief? So I threw it in the wastebasket. I can’t even describe how much he loves me. I know this love has spread within me; it has buried its roots in every one of my veins. How could I ever get free of it? I am not happy; what sort of love is this, in which I cannot find even scrap of peace? Even with all this love, I am empty. Perhaps I will never be able to fill this emptiness.
For two months I was so ill I couldn’t even get up; now I’m a little better but so what! These TB germs have already eaten up as much of my lungs as they can; there must be nothing left but huge holes. Sometimes it feels as though the wind pierces my whole chest and my heart too. There must be nothing but air inside me, a balloon filled with air. My lungs have already had a huge hole torn in them; the whole sky could fit in here, a sky with nothing in it. I fill up this space too with as much emptiness as I can hold. After all, it seems all we can do is empty ourselves. The more you try to fill things in, the emptier you become.
9th Asar:
He came. As he always does, he peeled and sectioned a pomegranate, and squeezed the juice into a glass. I didn’t want to drink it; I wouldn’t even look in the direction of the glass, nor would I pay attention to what he said. Since yesterday I’ve been so sad; I neither wanted to move nor speak. For a while he held the glass of pomegranate juice in his hand and tried to convince me. I refused to listen. Finally he seized hold of my head and poured the rosy juice into my mouth. I had hardly had a chance to wipe off the juice around my mouth when suddenly it seemed a crocodile’s sharp teeth started snapping at my lips; I got dizzy. I had no idea how much blood or how many germs flowed from my lips; I fell into a faint. I only woke up two hours ago. Well he had already gone; perhaps because it started to rain? The rain is still pouring down. This rain looks as if it will continue all night. Ouch, why does my arm hurt so? It feels as though it’s been brutally twisted. Oh, of course, perhaps the doctor gave me an injection this morning. What’s that on the stand? He’s gone and left his coat on top of my blouse. Such rain and he isn’t wearing his raincoat. This coat on my blouse; my white blouse is as white and worn as my bloodless face, yet he still loves me so much, not like before but even more so, more than before. Oh, how hasty are his caresses, how greedy his kisses. My lips are still sticky and wet with the saliva he left there.
12th Asar
For two days I haven’t been able to write. I shouldn’t say that I haven’t been able but that I haven’t had the chance; I haven’t had any free time. For three days he hasn’t left me at all. I’ve been bound up in his overpowering embraces. I’m ill and this tuberculosis has already exhausted me; where could I find the strength to escape?
This rose bush and its vines are quite dazzling! The rain yesterday morning and all last night has left them sparkling. The rose bush has been here since I first arrived. Vines which keep climbing up from the portico below always seem to come to rest at the window of my room. This rose bush is ill, as I am-it only grows yellow blossoms and so I feel affectionate towards it. I won’t let single caterpillar onto its leaves; as soon as I see one I will always pluck it off and throw it away. Now the vines are laden with yellow buds. When they bloom, the whole window will be framed in yellow. Yellow is our common suffering.
He hasn’t come yet. I anger easily; if he’d be even a little bit late, I’m patient. Now I wait for him and only for him.
The consolation in my illness is his hands which give off the cold scent of cologne and his cold lips. These are what he tries to soothe me with. He has been soothing me with those hands and lips for four years now. I’m already exhausted by it; I’m so tired of his consolations! He, however, is not in the least tired of it yet. There’s another man lurking inside him, who is even stronger and more powerful than he is. He loves me and caters to my every desire or anxiety. He licks me the way a cat licks her kittens but he has no idea that this powerful man inside him drags me along, knocks me over and pulls my hair as relentlessly as a tomcat. In the four years of our marriage, he has shown his love for me in many ways but what does he know of how his caresses have destroyed me, left me naked? On the first night of our marriage, I gave myself to him. Back then, my eyes were full of dreams. I felt I had everything that was possible in the world when I got him. I didn’t intend to be a dam to be burst by his rapt love but rather to be like a quiet, self-contained lake. Alas! He was a hasty man. His excitement flowed and swept me along, too. In the course of his love, he ground me thin, inside and out. I flowed. I had to-he had opened the way. He had forgotten everything but that he was a man and I was a woman because there I was before him, a desirable ball of flesh! At that point, his desire was satisfied. He spilled over me like a greedy jackal and tore the cover off my ideals. Since then I’ve been squeezed inside his fist like a lemon again and again; I’ve melted in his hot saliva like so much chewing gum. Now what do I have left? Only hardened rubber, from which no amount of sucking, biting or squeezing will produce a single drop of liquid.
Alas! There are caterpillars on the roses again. No matter how many I pick off, they come scurrying from somewhere. Will they turn the leaves into sieves before the buds have a chance to bloom? They should bloom in a couple of days. It’s time to take my medicine; the doctor will be coming now. There’s the doctor! Ugh, how much medicine do I have to take-not just one kind, either! All sorts and kinds. The doctor’s gone, taking the empty ounce-glass with him. When he goes into another room, he’ll fill that glass up with medicine, and then empty again. I am that empty ounce-glass, too hollow, with nothing inside. What there was, he finished off. Even the remnants, scattered here and there, have been swept away. Honestly, in these four years, he hasn’t suffered any loss at all. I’m loser; now that what I had is finished off, I’ve ended up playing host to these TB germs throughout my body and waiting for death. What’s clever as a salesman selling clarified butter but he can’t show me any kindness. What have I left but this wasted body and these rotted lungs? What more does he come here to get from me?
When I heard that I had TB, I wasn’t sad; in fact I was happy. I thought that at least I had gained relief from this torment. That day I lit an incense stick to a god; my heart was light. I thought to forget one trouble in the face of another but since I came here, I’ve had to suffer the same abuse. Except for the two months when I was too ill to get up, I’ve spent six months mingled with his saliva like a creature of hell. This substance never dries up, never goes away. My arms and legs are stuck fast in it. Where is heaven? In the pink germaniums and hell is in his saliva. How disgusting life! Sometimes I want to pour an entire bottle of poison down my throat but no, I can’t do that, either. How much longer will I have to drag my life through this fiercely burning hell? I’ve heard that those with TB live longer than those with other diseases!
I’ll go ahead and write something that happened yesterday. I don’t want to remember it because I’m ashamed. Just now when the doctor came in to give me my medicine, I couldn’t look him straight in the eyes; he knows everything. Why shouldn’t he know? I’m his private patient. Last night, my husband was lying next to me on some errand without any warning; immediately he spun around and went out of the room then came back in, still laughing: Silly doctor! My face was hot and red; I looked at him and his face was undisturbed. I felt so ashamed; what could I do? I understood everything, yet I swallowed my shame.
He’s come; that’s the sound of our Cadillac. Thousands of cars come to a place like the sanitarium, but I still recognize our Cadillac well.
14th Asar
The roses have bloomed. Only two and they are so beautiful. How long I have waited for these yellow roses; the others haven’t bloomed yet. Right now these unopened buds in bliss; they are in a deep sleep in blissful peace. Alas for the blossoms! There are caterpillars on them again. Plucking off these caterpillars is now a full time job. Sanucha a skinny five year old boy has come to the door. His mother Champa, though a dark skinned woman, has bright red cheeks. She sweeps here and goes from room to room of the diseased removing the dirty bedpans. She has her own life. Sanucha is attracted by my biscuits; right now he’s standing on the threshold with one foot inside and one foot out, grinning. As soon as he shows his teeth, I understand, poor thing! Ugh! Sometimes I’m disgusted; his dirty teeth and snot-encrusted nose make me nauseous. Once again he’s come for a biscuit. I take out a cream cracker and toss it towards the door; he quickly snatches it up and races away, the foolish boy! Yesterday I couldn’t write anything. At one o’ clock in the morning I sat down to write. But I didn’t feel like writing at all. Nor could I sleep. What can I write today? It feels like some huge boulder has been dug up to hang around my neck. I’ve become like the fossil of a lifeless century.
Yesterday he harassed me to the limit. Dangling me the hawk dangles a mouse, he whirled me all about high, high up in the sky. It was an infinite sky; I could see very far down from there, but the higher we went, the dizzier I felt. The doctor just came to give me an injection again. There was no place to give me shot; my arms are already riddled with holes, so I boldly exposed my backside. The doctor just held the syringe and started. My backside was all blue with bruises from pinching, as if a witch had sucked on it. I told the doctor, “I had a dream that I was flying high up in the sky. Then suddenly I fell to the ground. Of course, it wasn’t the sky; I found I’d fallen out bed in my sleep.” The doctor said nothing; he silently gave me the injection on my black-and-blue backside, gave me an odd look, and left.
Since the day before yesterday my chest has started to hurt. Before, the pain was insignificant; I paid no attention to it. Since yesterday it’s gotten worse and worse. I pushed him away so many times yesterday and didn’t speak. As if I’m not speaking would make a difference! He chattered on obliviously like madman, and laughed loudly as though he were insane. Tsk! These caterpillars have already defeated me! Look how they cling to the flowers.
Yesterday when he arrived, he handed me a bouquet of pink flowers. I just laid them on the table. After he went home, I picked them up to look at them. It had been a long time since I’d had a chance to play with pink flowers, so I looked long. I counted them one by one. Suddenly bristles pierced my hand; there was a caterpillar on such a pretty flower. Red itchy spots appeared all over my hand, and from somewhere, his ringing laugh sounded throughout my private sickroom. Two bright black eyes peered out from the caterpillar’s two gleaming ones. I was startled; he’s really trying to torment me. I had those pink flowers thrown far away; otherwise the caterpillar would have climbed onto my yellow rosebush.
Oh! What a cough just seized hold of me! What a lot of blood came up, too. I didn’t see any clear saliva at all. The doctor said it’s bad when a lot of blood comes up like that. Shooting pains have started in my chest and won’t go away even when I press my pillow to my chest. It’s time for him to come, too. If he brings a bunch of pink flowers like yesterday, he’s only going to make this pain in my chest worse. Let it ache, this chest of mine; how much longer will it hurt? It’ll go on hurting; the blood will keep spewing up until I’m already finished, why should I worry about it happening again? I won’t want perfection; I already have everything. Now I’m disgusted with it all; I know I won’t recover; I won’t. Just now I brought up even more blood than before. He’ll come now. He’ll joke around, roll me into a ball and squeeze me hard, then go. More blood will flow.
Behind the yellow roses in the window, the green field spreading farther then the eye can see looks pleasant against the pine forest. Both the greens become one shape. Who can that couple be on the lawn?
Perhaps they’ve come for a stroll; they’ve already covered the whole field. From far away they look so pretty. There’s a red rose in the woman’s hair; the man has his arm around her shoulders as they walk. They’ve reached the pine forest. On the dense shade of the forest has completely covered that red rose and that arm on the shoulder. Now there is only the empty expanse of waves of terraces. That red rose has dazzles my eyes. Oh! I can’t bear it; why is my heart trembling this way? This iron bed has melted and stuck fast to my body. What scorching envy! Why is the sky shaking? Look, oh mother! The sun is starting to fall, too; it’s shaking, look! Oh! The sun will break into pieces on my head. Suddenly everything will be on fire; I shall burn, and these yellow roses will burn with me. Look, what a huge caterpillar has got onto the roses! Let it burn and die, too; I won’t pluck it off now, let it die. Mt chest is cracking, my heart is quivering so, and it’s as if there’s an earthquake going on inside me. Will my chest burst too? A river of blood will flow from my burst chest, blood as red as that red rose that went into the pine forest. It’ll burst, it will; a pool of blood will come flowing out. It’s time for him to come, too, he’ll come, my chest…!
I’ll bite him, too; I’ll show him love, too! I’ll become a cat, too, and scrape his tender body all over with a rough tongue of thorns. I’ll dig pieces out of his rosy flesh, and fill it with all the germs from my lungs. That rosy body, which loves me, must become scaly, like a hard fossil just as mine is. His lips look as if milk would flow from them; how long since mine have been like that? It’s time for him to come; I have to be ready. I’ll bite his lips all over and drink from them in gulps. I’ll pour all my rotted blood into his fresh blood. I’ll give him the same kind of love he gives me. He loves me, so I’ll love him. How difficult it is for him to come from home everyday to see me here; so how would it be if I could tie him to this very white bed! Today I won’t let him go; I won’t let him go at all. In his lungs, a huge hole like the one in my lungs, a hole big enough to fit the whole sky into. The holes in our lungs will grow and meet somewhere; we’ll become a great void, and two hard, scaly fossils in it. Ugh, there’s a caterpillar on every petal of my yellow rose. It’s nearly finished off the whole flower; these huge ones finish off the petals so quickly! It’s starting to drizzle; the sky is trembling; all that’s left is for it to fall. The rose! The yellow rose is losing its petals one by one.
Awaiting Doomsday
Dev Kumari Thapa
“They say all nine planets are going to crash into one another and that the world is going to get submerged in water.”
“Surely not the whole world. Only the places with sinners, I am sure. God will protect holy places.”
“Nothing’s going to be spared when all nine planets crash, neither the sinful nor the holy, everything will be razed to the dust.”
The villagers are warming their hands on the fire completely engrossed in conversations like these. The women continued about their chores but with great anxiety. Everyone was sacred because of the rumours of the impending arrival of doomsday.
Having completed his bachelor level education in the terai, Bikram had come to this village and had been teaching at the village school, since the last year. Because of the worsening financial situation at home, he had had to drop out of college but he kept appearing in the exams independently. He started teaching and continuing his self studies. He quite liked the village. His meals were cooked at the house where he was staying. He didn’t have to bother with cooking. The landlady and her daughter treated him as one of their own family members.
At first he laughed at the rumours going around in the village. But as people continued on and on about this doomsday issue, he too started having his doubts. Although he believed that an educated person like himself should not fall for such superstitions, that inherent flow of human nature was making him loose his footing. He reached the spot where the villagers were warming up by the fire with all these musings in his head. Everyone called out to him in a welcoming note, “Hey master nani, come on over here. Come and warm your hands. So young, not even settled yet and now all is going to end.”
Bikram asked,” Who is forecasting this end of the world phenomenon?”
An elderly man responded” Who else but that holy saint. Sure a pure soul! Every morning we go to him and pay our respects. I am sure some of sins have already been washed off merely by the sight of him. Haven’t you been nani?”
Bikram answered” I did hear about the holy one but I haven’t been to him as yet. I think I’ll go soon.”
Villagers said,” You must go right anyway, nani, as within a week, a great catastrophe is going to take place and everything ends.”
Bikram said OK to go but he wasn’t quite resolved to do it. He thought,” What nonsense! The comet Dhumketu has already made its round of earth and disappeared and nothing happened; so what could this catastrophe be?” He didn’t think it wise to try to unconvince the villagers’ thought. Their superstition had already taken roots. He spoke to the villagers for a while and went over to his rented place.
Once he reached there, the landlady called him for his meal. He walked into the kitchen from his room. There too was talk of the impending doomsday. The landlady’s daughter Maiya’s was forlorn. Time and again she looked at Bikram’s face as though she were trying to say something to him. Since the mood was quite somber there, he didn’t stay on to talk as he used to do on other days.
He went into his room and turned down the lantern a little. He lay down on the bed without taking off his clothes. With his fingers crossed behind his head, he stared at the ceiling. All kinds of memories surfaced in his head like the tides rising in the sea. He fell asleep thinking about all sorts of issues.
Someone caressed him and kissed him in his sleep. He got up with a startle and looked all around. When he woke out of his sleep, he saw that it was the landlady’s daughter Maiya. He looked at her in total surprise and asked her” What happened Maiya? Why are you here at this hour?”
“Nothing’s happened. I came just like that,” said Maiya with her head bent down. Bikram added a note of harshness in his voice and said, “Go to sleep. You shouldn’t be here at this time of the night. What’ll people say if they saw you?”
Maiya responded a little flirtatiously, “Who cares what they say? We’ll all be dead and gone soon anyway” and at this latter statement, her voice was heavy with emotions.
Bikram was shocked to realize that this was the other side of Maiya. Today she was speaking like a matured adult. What could he say to her? The teacher felt that he should try to work some sense into her “What childishness! You shouldn’t believe in what any and everyone says. Is this what you have learnt from that I taught you so hard for?”
Maiya suddenly caught him in her arms and started to cry. “What’s going to happen to us now?” Bikram had yet to adjust himself to this unexpected attack when Maiya started kissing and touching him. The more he pushed her, the more she stuck him like a leech. In the end, he gave up. The long dormant thirst of a man suddenly gushed out in search of an outlet and gorged out. He pulled Maiya into his covers.
It was already morning when Maiya went to her room.
Bikram took a bath and went to the kitchen for his meal. He was feeling a little odd, a new kind of sensation. He felt a little stronger; a little matured and also felt a sense of victory. He stole a glance at Maiya who was serving the meal. How amazing! Maiya looked like a good housewife serving food and she neither seemed unsettled nor scared by the events of the night before. Her face looked bright and content. She had the grace of a new bride in her appearance. There was no expression of insecurity or remorse in her. Overnight Maiya had turned into a woman from a young girl. After having done with his meal, Bikram went to teach.
The rumours regarding the catastrophe started spreading even more. People were spending money without care. “What to save for when there was to be no future?” they said. Dambare Karki cut his big goat which he had saved for Dashain and gave a big party. Hakucha slaughtered his string buffalo and distributed the meat the meat for all. Whoever had saved a little to avoid financial problems, started to spend it all. More than the fear of the doomsday, people seemed to be taking pleasure in spending without a worry and having a great time. It was as if the festivities had arrived.
There was an equally vibrant atmosphere in the hermit’s hut. There was a mound of jwellery, money, fruits, cereals, that the devotees had given to the saint in the offering and on the other side was the darkly bearded and mustached, healthy and proud looking saint sitting cross-legged on top of the leopard skin. Bikram was really taken aback. So much gold and silver in such a seemingly poor village. He too bowed down at the saint’s feet like everyone else but he didn’t offer any alms. The saint showered Bikram with blessings “May you live very long” and Bikram accepted the blessings with open palms. It seemed to Bikram as if the leopard skin the “Maharaj” was sitting on had come alive and was sitting right in front of him in the form of the saint. There seemed to be the same expression in the eyes of the leopard and that of the “Maharaj” captured the prey in your gaze and attack! Bikram was frightened by these sinful thoughts and rushed home fast.
Maiya was waiting for Bikram with food she had cooked. He felt a little awkward. He wasn’t sure how to accept this new relationship but he could also feel a sweet sensation within himself.
Maiya gave him some food. Her natural and unashamed demeanor thoroughly amazed him. He even felt suspicious that “Is she a girl of loose character?”
Saturday arrived-the day of the professed catastrophe. From Friday night people started singing devotional songs and praying to the lord. They stayed up all night in prayers and in the morning gathered and had a feast- the Last Supper!! Rice flour doughnuts, beaten rice and mustard greens, potato, pickle, salad and curd. The villagers waited doomsday with much eagerness and excitement. But Saturday turned into night and passed midnight but the catastrophe never fell. People started getting restless. They behaved as if a loved guest had failed to arrive and started pacing back and forth. They stopped singing.
On Sunday morning the elderly people in the village walked up the hill to pay their respects to the “Maharaj”. To their total disbelief, the hut was empty and neither the “Maharaj” nor the mound of alms was there. Scattered all over the floor were flowers, greens, garlands and tika. The villagers were totally taken aback and collapsed into the floor of the hut.
Once news got out, people started getting angry. The youth went running in search of the saint as there weren’t any seeds or grains left in the village. How were they to survive now? All their goats and lambs, ducks and chickens, buffaloes and boars were consumed. Thanks God! At least the cows and bulls were still alive.
The villagers started justifying but some lost their cool totally. Some even resigned and started making fun of the whole situation. The most surprising thing was that no one seemed relieved at the failure of the catastrophe. It was this very failure in the so awaited doomsday that proved them to be fools. Some outsider had walked into their village and made fools out of them and that to them was the most and made fools out of them and that to them was the most shameful thing of all.
Bikram was lying on his bed and thinking “I was the educated one, I was the teacher and yet I was proved a fool too. I had noticed that the “Maharaj” looked more like a leopard than saint but how I didn’t warn the villagers? I didn’t have the guts for. But a cowardly youth that’s what I am.” Suddenly he felt a little bit uplifted by the events of the events of the night before. That young woman, Maiya, had at least shown her courage. She made sure that she got the man she liked. Circumstances prove a person, he thought. And from depth of his heart, he felt love budding into shape for Maiya.
R.K.
Maya Thakuri
After a long period of almost sixteen years Lily had sent an e-mail to Sujata.
She had written:
My dear friend (sister) Sujata,
Love and kisses to you. It is but natural for you to be surprised on receiving, my mail after so many years. Here, I don’t deem it necessary to disclose to you as how I found your e-mail address as I am in the belief that it is a right thing to let certain matters remain shrouded in mystery.
It is not that I don’t think it necessary to share things about my personal life with you or with my own kith and kins, but it was the few moments that I had the opportunity to spend with R.K. I did not want to part from. Speaking truthfully to you, I did not want to share even a trifle bit of the moments that I had the opportunity to spend with R.K.
Knowing very well that the word ‘R.K’ might arouse your curiosity I, hereby, deem it necessary to introduce him to you;
R.K is an unmarried man of the same age as that of mine. We two are living together since the last twelve years using the same kitchen, the same living room, the same toilet, the same bed room and the same bed.
We love each other so much that there is not a single moment when we have had any kind of misunderstanding or altercation in between the two of us. R.K. seems never tired of exhibiting his love towards me. So much so that he finds time to call me several times a day whenever he has to be away from me on some business. With the passing of every day the tree of our love is flourishing and getting more and more luxuriant. He is a man with a charming personality. He is endowed with the physical beauty of a stone sculptured Roman warrior. The very thought of him is enough to fill me with excitement and thrill. I pine for the romantic strokes of his loving hands in his absence.
It has been quite a number of years since I have been treasuring a pair of red Banarasi-saris with matching blouses, bangles and glass studded shawls. Crazily he overwhelms me within his arms and smothers my whole body with kisses whenever I present myself before him attired in those costumes.
Now, is that clear who R.K. is to you?
Today, I have got cooked for him a dinner of his choicest food with a bottle of ten years old French wine.
I will be writing to you again.
Love
Lily or Lalita.
Sujata was indeed very surprised on receiving a letter from Lalita, her own friend, after so many years.
And again, that same afternoon Sujata received another e-mail from Lalita. :
Hi!
It must have been a great surprise to you to receive my mail, right? I knew very well that you had never thought not even in your wildest dreams of ever receiving my mail, am I right?
This is life. Things never expected get to happen. The most cherished moments of my life are the ones that I have been able to spend and share with R.K. Now, after the advent of him in my life, I have begun to find the world very beautiful and very charming. Now I have been able to comprehend about nuances of nature’s creations. Now I realize that there is constant exchange and expression of love among the living creatures in the world.
You know very well how I was as good in the extra-curricular activities as I was good in my studies. You know very well how I always stood first in dance and in sports that used to be held in our school.
After I came here, I found my identity lost somewhere in the crowd. Yes, the momentum of people flocking here to America from all over the world is increasing by leaps and bounds. The glitter and glare of the fast change that is taking place in this country has already blinded and is in the process of blinding the minds, eyes of the many outsiders like me. People from different parts of the world flock to this country with a dream of a bright future, but they are unaware of the fact that in their quest for dollar their dreams are forced to their last breath in some dark dungeons. I, too in the past, had dreamt a beautiful dream of my own. According to that dream of mine, today I ought to have been serving some helpless sick persons in some remote corners of my country. But, after coming here, the open and free life style of this country brought about a sea change not only to my life style but also to the very innermost consciousness of my life.
Like a bird I began relishing the free and open life style of this free country. Of course, the same may not also happen to everyone.
Oh yes, I forgot to tell you; one American family here had sponsored me as their own daughter and it was because of their support that I could take a teacher training course at a college and work part time at the same time.
Even before the completion of four years of my coming here, the news of the death of my parents in a motor accident had left me all shattered.
And it was during those difficult times when I had met R.K I had begun taking a fancy on him from the very first few minutes of our conversation because I had noticed a gentle and sensitive personality in him from the care and concern that he had shown towards me. I had received his affection when I was drowning in the ocean of sorrow and misery. From then onwards, I was gradually drawn towards him.
From then on I began pouring all my experiences of happiness and sorrow before him. Indeed, I had found very dear and close friendship in him.
See, how it is always like this only when I sit down to write. I have to decorate my houses today. I have to change the flower in the vase and I also have to roast a chicken in the oven. R.K. has promised to bring a bottle of champagne on his way home later today. A spicy roasted chicken with champagne is his favourite delicacy. As for me, I prefer wine to champagne but of course, I don’t like to disappoint him. And therefore, I have to set the table with two champagne glasses made of crystal.
I will write you again as I am in a bit of hurry now.
Yours,
Lily or Lalita.
Next morning, while she was very anxiously going through her mails Sujata received a mail from Lalita.
She had written:
Last evening, we had a candle light dinner in our apartment.
Even as he was in his fourth peg of champagne he got tipsy and it is in situations like this he overwhelms me with his love and his caress. Shall I share one secret with you? Yesterday, I had repeated before him my desire to become a mother. On hearing me as usual he became very emotional and almost cried and said, “A woman remains fully devoted to man only so long as she does not become a mother. Her love splits after she becomes a mother.”
How strange his thoughts are, isn’t it? Sometimes I find the men’s nature very intriguing and I wonder if they all feel insecure deep within them at the thought of being ignored or neglected after the wife attains her motherhood. Anyway, all men may not think alike.
He is taking me for dinner this evening. I will wear my blue gown with the pearl set.
He will wear his blue suit.
Well, you ought not to write to me. Let me first finish myself.
Yours,
Lily or Lalita.
Sujata just grinned after reading Lalita’s mail.
And again next day there was another mail from her.
… … … . Were you offended when I had told you that you ought not to write to me in yesterday’s mail? Please take no offence, o.k.? Actually, I already know so many things about the small family of yours: I am well aware of your Ph.D. degree in economics. I have already heard about your job, your kids and their progress and also about your husband’s three years trip to Canada. It is rather you who is quite unaware about me.
R.K. and myself are leaving for France for a week. I will write to you again I return from there. Till then you please wait for my mail.
Yours,
Lily or Lalita.
Sujata did not receive any mail from Lalita for a week. Actually speaking, it was rather a boring experience for Sujata not to receive any mail from Lalita.
It had been the eighth day for Sujata of not receiving any email from Lalita. She was out to Bishal Bazaar to do some shopping for her kids.
“Hi, isn’t this Sujata?” “Namaste! ,” Subhashri turned serious and said, “I presume you know well how she has become a mental case after the sudden demise of her boy friend R.K. four years ago due to a brain tumor. Actually, we hardly meet each other, but I find her talking only about R.K. whenever I meet her in our parties and get-together. And, I was also told by her American sponsor that her case had even worsened. I have no idea of what they are going to do to her.”
Sujata was dumb-struck on hearing Lalita’s story.
On returning back home and on opening her computer Sujata found a long mail for her.
Lalita had written:
Dear Sujata,
Last week R.K. and I passed every minute of our time in each other’s arms. Every night he waited in our bedroom with a bouquet in his hand for my… …tears began to well up in Sujata’s eyes and she switched her computer off in the middle of her reading.
Science Fiction
PREMDOOT
(THE ANGEL OF LOVE)
Indira Prasai
Translated from Nepali by Durga Banwasi
“What an attractive photo of a beautiful, unfortunate lady!”
After three minutes Dheera had changed her profile picture, she had got that comment. The person had reacted with the symbol of love.
The name of the commentator was Premdoot, the angel of love. Both the name and the comment were uncommon that led Dheera to open his profile.
Related to modern communication
An analyzer of social life and behavior
The owner of self business
Nothing was interesting in his profile. At the place of his profile picture, there was a picture of a rose and a picture of a sea as his cover photo. Dheera reached the conclusion that it was a fake id. She returned to her wall. Till then, she had 50 likes and 10 comments in her profile picture. Beautiful, nice, attractive were the common comments compared to which Premdoot’s comment was additional.
‘Who may he be?’
‘How can an unknown person say about the condition of her mind? How can he say that she is not satisfied with her life? May he merely have guessed?’ She tried to forget about him and his comments.
Because of global warming, improper management of the nation and so on, Kathmandu nowadays, is not like the previous Kathmandu. She remembered Kathmandu of 25 years back with cool breeze. Even in the hot month of Baishakh, she had worn a warm sweater while she had come to Kathmandu from the Terai. She had met Aviral those days.
She smiled faintly. Aviral too became like the weather of Kathmandu for her. ‘Polluted?’ She asked herself and felt something bitter inside.
Sometimes, she curses the day on which she had gone through Aviral’s tab he had forgotten to lock before heading to the office. Unwillingly, her fingers had pressed the messenger and she was awfully shocked.
‘Ah, that is the reason of Aviral’s distance and cold behaviors!’
There were a number of girls in his chat list with whom Aviral had conversed a lot. Discovering this, she had felt a vast pain, jealousy and sadness losing her mental peace.
“My only daughter too has flown to Australia. Now, I have a lifeless life with me. I feel very lonely and empty dear!”
“Only you can give breath to my dull life.” Aviral had written.
“Don’t say so dear! I can feel your pain. Aren’t I devoted solely to you?” The woman had responded.
“Only the ocean of your love can save and paint my discolored life sweetheart!” Aviral had messaged.
Though Aviral had several conversations with other girls, the chat with Avidha had proved that they had a very intimate relationship.
Through the chat, Dheera came to know about the sudden change in Aviral’s wearing as well. He used to prefer blue and brown pants and white or check t-shirts that were replaced by jeans and colorful t-shirts.
In this way, Aviral’s ‘pollution’ was disclosed to her.
She had gulped that poison down as of Mahadev and pretended to be cool as usual (In Hindu scriptures, Mahadev is regarded as the god of gods who had swallowed the poison that gods had secretly plotted for demons to kill them).
Once, she had thought of leaving Aviral but it was a suffocating matter to live alone divorcing him. It was not a good idea to go to her mother’s home as well. Even she was helpless to wipe out the tears of her aged mother because of the insensitive behavior of her sister-in-law.
Before marriage, Aviral had a clear agreement with her that she would remain at home and Aviral would work outside. Being blind in his love, she had accepted it simply and remained inside the four walls looking after the home affairs. She had got a remarkable amount of property from her mother as dowry as well. Selling some of that, daughter Slagha had gone to Australia for further studies. She has saved the remaining property too for Slagha, their only daughter.
Aviral had his paternal four storied home in Old Baneshwor, Kathmandu. Two flats were given in rent which led their life run smoothly. Aviral also had a fine job in a bank with good saving.
Though, they had a love affair, both the families were satisfied and they could manage an arranged marriage with the consent of parents. Dheera was fortunate enough to receive warm welcome and love from Aviral’s parents; Aviral being their only son. After five years, Slagha was born. Aviral’s mother passed away while Slagha was only two months old. After a year, father too left the world making them guardian less.
Though, life was easy-going in financial matter, Dheera was feeling some kind of uneasiness because of Aviral’s changed manner. Before she went through his inbox, she had taken it plainly and positively. She thought that Aviral might have been tired due to work pressure. After reading his conversation with Avidha, she was getting restless with each passing day.
‘I have read all your messages in your inbox.’
Sometime she thought of telling Aviral regarding the messages but Aviral might think that she had no trust on him. It was not appropriate to her nature too.
Sometime she regretted for going through Aviral’s messages secretly. In another second she thought it was good to know regarding his activities. Why to be happy remaining in the darkness? In reality, it was very hard for her to keep her mental balance. She was dying of desolation each day.
“I’m in get together with friends tonight, I may be late. Don’t wait for me. I have kept the keys of entrance and our room each!”
Nowadays, it was almost the schedule of each Friday though the issue might be different. Sometimes, he used to be out whole night at the name of conference at Dhulikhel and Nagarkot. She had no doubt on him till the date she had checked his messages.
Discovering about Aviral’s dynamic world, Dheera was trying to be normal with all these. She, herself was unnoticed concerning the possible explosion of her concealed pains.
Today, accidentally, Premdoot’s comment had dropped a stone in her peaceful pond. However, she managed to return to her previous state of mind after seeing his fake profile.
That evening, as usual, Dheera was watering the plants and speaking her heart out. She saw some pairs of pigeons sitting at the railing of her and neighbor’s abode. Though, their sitting seemed uncomfortable, they were enjoying much. They had dropped the plastic plate down on which she used to keep some grains for them. She picked it up and took to the wash-basin. Her two eyes met with the four eyes of a couple of pigeons and she felt as if they were making fun of her miserable, lonely life. She sensed a terrible ache at the corner of her heart.
Though, heart was full, stomach was empty which made her step into the kitchen without any eagerness.
She disliked eating remaining food cooked in the morning but that day Kamali told her that she had eaten at her home before coming.
Kamali, a married woman was a housemaid to their family for the past 10 years. Though, she worked there on salary basis, Dheera cooked for her as well. So, she had to eat the remaining food if Kamali didn’t.
Unwillingly, Dheera took the food out of the fridge. The cold rice-pot reminded Aviral’s coldness with her. She baked it and thought of the warmth of Aviral in previous days. She wished for an oven to warm up the cold relationship among people. However, such baked food becomes cold very soon losing its prior fresh taste. ‘Had there been an oven to warm up human relationships, it’d be more than a slow poison.’ She smiled dimly at her own childish thought.
However, the past memories had provided her some pleasure for a while, the bitter reality made her gloomy. Again, she lost in the thick, black fog of misery. Quietly, she ate the tasteless food just to fill her stomach.
After finishing kitchen matters, she returned to her room and plucked the charger out of her android mobile that was already fully charged. She saw a new message request in her messenger.
She had rejoined some of her old friends through facebook but most of them were busy at their office, business and home. So, she had no special friend to chat with. Slagha used to talk through Viber and WhatsApp on Saturday evenings.
‘Whose message it might be?’
She had opened the messenger with curiosity.
“Can we talk?” It was the message from Premdoot in Unicode. Once again, some waves were about to rise in her calm heart.
‘A fake id holder!’ She tried to avoid him.
“Why? Can we not be friends?” She got an immediate response.
“I don’t make friends with fake id holders.” She wrote in Roman. Though, Slagha had helped her to use Unicode, she felt comfortable with Roman.
“What’s there in the name? I want to be your friend. You can block me if you disliked my chats or behaviors.”
Dheera couldn’t deny his logic and polite request. Of course, there is the provision of blocking too. Then, she accepted Premdoot as her facebook friend.
From that very evening, they had started chatting on messenger.
“Why fake id? This fake id doesn’t go with your cultured thoughts.” – Dheera was compelled to ask.
“Perhaps, you won’t believe that Premdoot is my real name. In fact why do you need my real name? Whatever name one does have, it doesn’t reveal their true self. Haven’t you seen people behaving exactly against to the meaning to their names?”
His reasonable answer had made Dheera speechless and different dirtied faces of good name holders had lingered in front of her mind. There were a number of people such as Ram, Krishna, Shiva, Sita, Gita, Parvati, Sati, Savitri and so on having great and pious names with just opposite character.
‘Of course, he was right. The name of a person is not his/her real identity. Hence, the name shouldn’t be a problem to befriend with people.’
That evening, Premdoot had asked regarding her personal and family life. According to her innocent nature, she had told him about her homely status and maternal home as well. She also had inquired concerning him.
“I have no one in this world, and again, consider- all are mine. Ha ha ha! I’m related to modern technology. I think you don’t require knowing more than this. I don’t even have a family like yours.”
Dheera sensed that he was not frank enough telling about him and his answer seemed a bit harsh too, however she didn’t feel bad seeing his cultured words.
“Is it not the time for a conjugal life?” Dheera had asked unwillingly.
“I think family life is a requirement more than the age. I haven’t felt the need of it yet and may be in future too.” He had responded.
Dheera was amazed and more curious. ‘He might be a victim of love affair and might have been betrayed by his lover very badly.’ She thought.
“May I know your exact age? You haven’t even mentioned in your Facebook bio.” She couldn’t resist asking this.
“I’m mature enough. The growing age is meaningless without maturity. So, age is insignificant to me. I’m impressed by your thoughts in your wall, not by your age. For a good and durable friendship, the level of mutual understanding is enough. The attraction of age may change into distraction along with the time but the harmony of opinion is always strong, don’t you think so?”
Dheera was much impressed by his refined views. She responded with the react of like instead of words.
She didn’t notice how time passed. The entrance opened and she got alert. She switched the sound of the mobile off and kept it as usual. In the meantime, Aviral entered the room.
“Haven’t you slept yet?” Looking at the wall clock Aviral asked with a little surprise. It was 11.45 pm. It was the first time she was busy with her cell phone till late hours but afterwards she didn’t repeat it. It was about 1.00 am, they reached the bed without conversation as a new routine of their life. Soon, Aviral fell asleep but she couldn’t sleep for a while.
Next morning, she left the bed at her usual time and finished her regularity. She prepared food. It was Saturday (government holiday in Nepal). After having meal, Aviral went down to the sitting room along with his tab. While at home, he had the relation only with the tab except in sleep. He took it even in the bathroom.
Dheera too, held the mobile handing the responsibilities of the kitchen over Kamali. There were some unread messages from yesterday.
“Where are you lost?”
“Slept?”
“Aren’t you free yet?”
“It’s very hard to get time for self in a family life, isn’t it?” He had written.
Dheera saw he was online and was typing more messages. She looked at Aviral at sofa in front of her. He was so active as usual but Dheera couldn’t chat.
“I like chatting with you, don’t you?” Premdoot had asked. Dheera didn’t respond.
“I think you are quite busy. Let’s talk later. I’ll be waiting.” He had texted again.
Dheera turned to facebook from messenger but she had no interest. What’s there on facebook except birthdays, deaths, anniversaries, condolences, single photos, conjugal photos etc? She logged out without any like or comment on anything. Then, she opened YouTube.
In fact, YouTube is the storage of all kinds of knowledge and information that can’t be obtained even holding the Masters Degree. In her view, no universities are needed today. May the students make fun of teachers and professors as they know about the subjects more than their teachers through YouTube. ‘Thank God! I didn’t accept the teaching offer because of Aviral’s suggestion and I’m spared from being a laughing stock.’ She held a long breath of relief.
Even YouTube couldn’t attract her today. She had a glance at Aviral, he was lost with his tab neglecting the surrounding including Dheera.
Quietly, she left the room and reached the kitchen. Kamali looked at her but said nothing. She talks less and works with much concentration. That’s the reason she likes Kamali and increases her salary per year. She makes Kamali happy by showering her with gifts from time to time so that she wouldn’t leave her.
Sitting on a dining chair, she opened messenger.
“Only a woman can understand the situation of another woman, mister!” She wrote.
“Oh, now you are free!” He responded immediately.
“Consider yourself as a human only, madam! You are a living person bound in some norms, discipline and attachments, aren’t you?” He had served his infinite opinion.
“The norms, discipline and attachments are the roots of a family life, mister!”
They had conversed for about two hours. Kamali had gone back to her home finishing her works. The wall clock alarmed her that it was the time for the afternoon tea. Along with some snacks and coffee for Aviral and herself, she went down. Aviral was still immersed in chat. Though they had some arguments in the past in such a case while Aviral had totally ignored her, she had stopped debating after knowing about Aviral and Avidha. Today, unnoticed, she preferred it with a slight smile of satisfaction in her lips, instead.
She started enjoying her share of snacks keeping the tray on the table for Aviral. Aviral had no difference; his hands seemed more active in chat than on the snack plate. Dheera had her snacks and coffee keeping the cell off. She was experiencing some kind of zeal, achievement and bliss within. Aviral was still busy; coffee in a thermos cup was getting cold. Dheera had a faint laugh again.
Because of Aviral’s cold behavior, her heart was heavy but today, she was having a sense of gratification. Collecting the utensils of finished up snacks and coffee, she stepped out of the sitting room.
Because of Aviral’s coldness, usually her heart was heavy but today, she was feeling radiant. Before flying to Australia, Slagha had gifted a small side bag made of Nepalese Dhaka with some pockets. She had told her to carry it all the time keeping her cell phone inside so that she would be available while she makes a call. She almost forgot and Slagha used to get angry while she returned her calls later. Then, she had to read her messages-“Now, I’m busy and can’t talk.” In spite of reminded by Slagha several times, Dheera was not habitual of carrying that bag. Suddenly, she remembered the bag, took it out of the drawer and carried it.
Whenever Aviral and Dheera were ready for some special occasions or parties together, they had a photo session. Aviral was quite keen on taking photographs with her before but these days he preferred taking single photos. So, they took single photographs of each other and uploaded to their own facebook wall.
“What a beauty! Wish to keep it forever in eyes. May your God have created you in leisure!” Premdoot sent a private text on messenger instead of commenting on her wall.
Nowadays, Aviral would not comment two words of praises on her photos. He had forgotten to appreciate her beauty even while taking her photographs. Sometimes, he didn’t even notice either Dheera was in saree, salwar suits or pant. Before she had met Premdoot, Dheera was too upset due to such behaviors of Aviral but he was indifferent to her gloomy face and reddish eyes. Only his body existed there, soul was totally lost. Dheera had the same way of thinking after getting close to Premdoot.
Human sentiments have hunger for admiration. Having more tenderness in nature, females get more emotional in such matters. Dheera, too, was eager to get more words of appreciation from Premdoot. Premdoot was online almost all the time. Even in the midnight, she found him online if she woke up to relieve herself.
Once having a glance over snarling Aviral, she messaged Premdoot,”Haven’t you slept yet? Why do you stay awake whole night? That’s not good for your health.” Dheera seemed concerned.
“It’s my profession to be online. My health is strong enough and won’t get affected so easily.”
“And, you may suppose that I’m not well if you don’t find me online.”
“Ha ha ha!” Then he sent a sticker of laughter.
‘What an amazing man!’ Dheera wondered. Bubbles of thoughts floated on her mind and busted till next morning.
It was more than a year; they still had not met in person. Dheera had often asked him for so.
“We’ll meet at the right moment. In my view, it’s the time before departure. I’m scared of parting after meeting you. Let it go on as it is.”
“Though, you live with Aviral under the same roof sharing the same room, you are never together. We are so close without seeing each other, do you accept this truth?”
She was speechless being unable to argue more. Because of the betrayal in the relationship with Aviral, she was feeling an immense attraction towards Premdoot. Moreover, his soft words and understanding had a vast impact on her. She wished to see him physically, feel him and touch him. However, she had made some requests time and again; Premdoot always avoided her proposal of meeting face to face though he was messaging her often.
“After two months, I’m flying to Australia with Aviral for graduation ceremony of Slagha. Before this, I must meet you. I’ve to disclose Slagha regarding our relationship. We need to reach a conclusion discussing together. So, I don’t want any more argument, please!”
Dheera had written but Premdoot had not responded immediately as usual. Dheera felt her heart beating very fast. ‘Who is this person having too cultured, sweet and standard thoughts but always avoid meeting physically. Might he have some bodily incapability! If so, no need to hide it. I can’t reject such a loving and caring person due to his physical disabilities. According to him he is not even married. Then, why is he avoiding my proposal each time?’
“‘Marriage’ is not included in my dictionary.” Once he had written that had fixed not only on the wall of her messenger but in the diary of her mind as well.
That day, she had felt nervous with the flow of negativity till she got a response from Premdoot. She had spent a long span of time waiting for his reaction.
“Then, is it a must meeting in person?” After an hour, Premdoot had texted.
No sooner he had asked, she responded burning the light of hope in her heart – “Of course! We may meet in any restaurant this time. Do you have a vehicle-a bike or a car?”
“I never go to hotels or restaurants rather you may visit my office day after tomorrow at 1.00 pm. Office remains peaceful at that hour, I’ll be waiting.”
Then, he texted the address as she was going through the message.
Dheera’s happiness knew no bound. Finally, she was going to meet the person with whom she had some kind of affection and attachment for the past two years.
‘What kind of personality may he possess-tall, short, white, black….!’ She spent the day sketching an imaginary figure of Premdoot in her mind.
“What’s up?” Next morning, Dheera messaged as usual.
“The same responsibilities I have as usual! What about you?” He had responded.
“I’m waiting excitedly for 1.00 pm of tomorrow being irritated with the crawling wall clock.”
“Whether you believe or not, in my case, it’s just opposite. I’m scared thinking of tomorrow. There is the possibility of ‘the end’ of our loving and sweet conversation.” Premdoot had replied.
“I can’t entertain this. It doesn’t suit to a positive person like you. Please. Don’t say so!”
“Do you really love me?” Premdoot had questioned suddenly.
“Why are you asking such a nonsense question? It’s already two years we are in an intimate relationship. My love and affection towards you, now, have become my necessity. Asking this, you have enforced me to doubt on our closeness. I’ve to ask you the same question, now.” Dheera had written anxiously with little anger as well.
“Till now, nothing wrong has happened. Let’s not meet otherwise we may lose each other. You are a matured lady, unlike teenagers and above the mid-age of your youth. Our spiritual love is immortal and is greater than any relationship. Please Dheera, try to understand!”
Once again, reading his logical request, Dheera got little upset and irritated. Then she wrote,”Why are you repeating the same words? Don’t you have faith in yourself? I hope, our bond gets more cherished after our meeting. Now, I don’t want to hear anything till 1.00 pm of tomorrow.”
Then she added enthusiastically,”Tell me, in what outfit do you wish to see me- saree, salwar suit, sharara pants, midi dress or pant? Mention your favorite color too.”
“I desire seeing my love in pink saree with pink lipstick.” He had replied.
Dheera had passionate emotion reading his message.
“Do you have grey color suit? If not, any other color. I want to see you in suit for the first time.”
As a response of that message, she got a sticker of sad with no text. She didn’t give much value to it and their conversation ended.
She hardly slept that night. Their internet-love story was going to take a concrete shape after two years. She had still not heard his voice.
“We can talk instead of texting. I get tired of typing.” Once she had written while Aviral had gone to the office.
“It’s not wise talking and disturbing other staffs in the office.”
She found it difficult to talk to him in Aviral’s presence. So, she was too keen hearing his voice as well.
‘What kind of personality he might have! How his voice might be!’
‘Might he possess an impressive tone of voice?’
Losing herself in such imaginations, she slept delightfully that night but had a bitter dream that made her feel a bit annoyed and dull. However, she had no time thinking over the significance of the dream.
Next morning, she completed all of her household tasks with much passion. She informed Aviral about her going out in the afternoon while he was leaving for the office. With no response as usual, Aviral started his car. That day, his unfeeling attitude had no effect on her; rather she was cherished and satisfied.
She was getting ready sitting in front of the full-sized mirror. ‘Whether he’d come in suit or not.’ She asked herself.
“Being the boss of such astonishing thoughts, you must own a handsome persona, am I right? You haven’t uploaded even your actual profile picture yet!” Once, she had asked.
“You’ll know everything at the right time. The photo, feature etc have no worth, these are merely momentary attraction.” Premdoot had pacified her aspiration as usual with his logics. Though Dheera had a vast desire of meeting him physically, she couldn’t dare to discuss often regarding the same topic.
“You are superior at high spiritual thoughts but we need to live in this planet. No one can live only in the imagination. I mean to be with your corporal existence.” Some time ago, she had wished for.
“Again, you began with your teenagers’ dialogue. Spiritual and rational attraction is more influential and essential than physical presence. You already have a bitter experience of distraction with Aviral. How can you be sure that the same mistake wouldn’t be repeated after we meet in person?” Premdoot’s logic made Dheera shiver and she had no nerve arguing more. Though, her need for corporal get together was growing strong each day. It was more dominant than the desirability with Aviral in the past.
Her waiting was over as she had the address of Premdoot’s office at Tripureshwor. It’s hardly 10 minutes in a taxi from Old Baneshwor to Tripureshwor. She calculated the time for the demanding traffic (traffic jam) and decided to leave half an hour earlier. At 12.25 pm, she applied pink lipstick on her lips as wished by Premdoot, the man of her dream. She had a wave of an unseen fulfillment and bliss throughout her body and soul.
She gazed herself in the mirror. ‘I’m still young and beautiful.’ It’s been such a long time since Aviral had glanced over her. She couldn’t see herself in the mirror anymore. She had an intoxicated passion of Premdoot and his possible encounter in frame. Closing her eyes, she held a long breath. Then, without looking at the mirror, she stepped out. Shutting the entrance, she reached the main road.
Very soon, she was at the sixth floor of the ‘Vividha Tower’ through the lift. She stood in front of the reception of ‘Monalisa Advance Network.’ Knowing that Dheera had come to meet with Premdoot, the receptionist was little shocked. Dheera gave her a slip writing her name on it. The receptionist made her sit on a sofa and went inside opening the door to the left side.
Trying to remain cool and calm, Dheera had a glance over the office. There was no human presence except a number of computers and tables.
‘What type of office is it? Only computers exist here, no man power is seen!’ She asked herself. ‘Oh, it’s the lunch hour!” Then she felt relief.
After a while, the receptionist opened the door for Dheera. Through a long gallery, the receptionist stopped in front of a locked door. On the right corner of the entry, Dheera read the name plate-‘Robot the Great.’
The receptionist opened the door. Before entering the room, Dheeta looked at her with gratitude but she sensed a mysterious smile at her face.
Being impatient to meet with Premdoot, she didn’t notice anything else. At the next moment, she was in Premdoot’s room. Because of the white drapes at the windows, there was plenty of light in the room. There was a clean and beautiful carpet on the floor. Dheera was little amazed as there too was no one except a chair of the chief, a grand table with a computer and a bit further, was something tall, covered with a fine cloth.
Except Aviral, Premdoot was the second person in her life to whom she had come to meet in this lonely room. She had a mixed experience of happiness and fear. However, her Premdoot had not appeared yet.
‘What’s this? Where is Premdoot?’ Dheera was little wary.
“Don’t forget to turn on the 4G in your cell phone while visiting my office. Otherwise, you may have difficulty reaching me.” Suddenly, she remembered his instruction.
‘Oh!’ She took her cell phone out of the handbag and turned the 4G on.
Right away, she saw a message from Premdoot.
“You are welcome to my office!” The message was sent just prior a minute. She looked around but found no one.
“Where are you Premdoot? Why are you annoying me? It doesn’t match your cultured thoughts. Please, do come in front of me!”
“I’m in front of you dear!” Reading this, she looked around again but found no one.
“Don’t lie to me please! You are not here or am I in the wrong room?”
“You are in the right room. In this room, there is a chair, a table, a computer and a tall thing covered with cloth, am I right?”
“Yes, but where are you?” She questioned with a great wonder.
“I’m near you. Just uncover the cloth.” Premdoot wrote.
Dheera did accordingly.
Of her great surprise, there was a human skeleton, imprinted Premdoot on the head.
“This is me Dheera!” Premdoot wrote again.
‘Oh, my God, what is this?’ Dheera was deeply shocked. Her mind refused to acknowledge it.
“I knew, you’ll get upset and your desires will end up after seeing me. That’s the reason I had avoided your request many times but you, humans can’t enjoy in mind only.”
“My inventor is a young scientist. He was badly deceived by his lover. She had married to another person betraying him. So, he created me struggling for many years. He named me as Premdoot. I possess everything except a physical body. Using me, he quenches his passion of love chatting with several girl friends but believe me Dheera, I truly love you. I had thought getting failure in love with Aviral, you don’t have any physical appeal. You proved me wrong. Humans are unable to love without physical presence. Go back Dheera, you won’t find me in your messenger anymore!”
“Listen, you are beautiful!”
Along with the last message, a sticker of sad was attached. Then the version of Premdoot was closed. Perhaps, Premdoot had blocked Dheera.
