Quaint and Quirky

 

Sir, Are you still with the tour?' yelled the stout, very-blonde tour guide in the Ebon stalactite-stalagmite caves in Deerton, Michigan, in Dhananjay's direction. 

 

Dhananjay,or DJ as he went by, stood transfixed, oblivious, inside the cave. The icicles around him hung in mid air, like jagged ancient photographs, with a salon-fringe, capturing a  moment in time when water on its way down, was stopped by a cold hand and cruelly solidified. He suddenly felt one with this 200-million year old chilly marvel of nature, his childhood progress arrested by the icy fingers of the indescribable many. The caves took him back to his six-year-old self, in Europe, when he’d visited the Postojna stalactite-stalagmite caves, in Slovenia, on a school trip from Berlin, where he’d lived. He remembered enjoying the caves tremendously as he eased into them, but the terror he felt as soon as they’d entered the cave, as a kid, rushed back to him. He distinctly remembered desperately grabbing on to the annoyed guide’s hand. And together with it, came back the ‘B’ for bewilderment that defined that phase in his childhood. 

 

'Sir, this is the last call for you! We're moving on!'

 

'I'll find you guys in a bit, I think I'll just be here for a while,' he managed to yell back to the guide.

 

DJ hadn't bargained for this, as part of his trip at all. It was supposed to be a rejuvenating spring break event, a getaway from school, a few months after his breakup with Ananya. But here all this was.

His mind kept racing back to how so much that transpired between them, had come and gone. 

His thoughts whirled to days after Thanksgiving, when he and his void, walking up and down campus, at times more weary than cheery, had heard thunderous ovation emanating from the campus library. The area soon became abuzz with students and onlookers. DJ weaved his way down the bustling pathway to the library, a forgotten chai latte warming his hand. He was wont to going into his inner world more and more of late, when a cacophony of sound erupted again from the quad ahead. Detangling himself from thoughts of intriguing neuroscience, he hastened his pace.

 

In the centre of the grassy expanse, stood a dark-haired woman, her short tresses whipping about her. In her hand, she brandished a bright yellow frisbee, not at a playful dog, but at a flock of pigeons. 

 

"Come on, you feathery philosophers!" she yelled, in apparent, mock-frustration. "A little game of 'fetch' won't hurt your existential pondering!"

DJ stood at the edge of a geranium flowerbed. His gaze, along with that of many in the crowd surrounding the area, turned to the woman again.

The pigeons, unsurprisingly, remained unimpressed by her calls and shuffled around the sundial at the quad's centre.

Suddenly, the frisbee sailed errantly, taking a detour on the windy day and docked itself towards a group of students engrossed in a textbook on the grass. A collective yelp arose as the frisbee smacked one of the textbooks, sending papers scattering.

The woman's laughter filled the air, as she rushed towards the carnage, apologetically. 

A faint smile finally twitched on DJ’s lips, as he stood rooted, still sipping his chai latte.

As DJ watched, the woman, scooped up the papers and began an animated apology, complete with elaborate hand gestures. The students, initially flustered, found themselves drawn into her act, a few even chuckling along.

Finally, she straightened. "Consider it a pop quiz on the importance of…frisbee reflexes?" she declared, handing the textbook back to its owner. The student, a lanky man, could only stammer out a thanks.

‘I’m Ananya, by the way!’ she said, waving to the man before she left the grassy area.

‘Brian’ he replied, finding his hand waving at her too. The crowd started to thin at this point.

Ananya winked at Brian, before turning around, her gaze landing on DJ. The amusement in his gaze mirrored in hers. She tilted her head, a playful challenge in her smile.

"Well, hello there," she said, her voice lilting a little. "Care to join my next scholarly pursuit? Perhaps involving pigeons and existential dread?"

DJ, completely disarmed by this whirlwind, found himself returning her smile. "Perhaps," he replied, a touch breathless. "But only if you promise to translate the pigeon coos for me."

‘I’m Ananya , a speech therapist, so I’ll try to get them to talk human to you then,’ she smiled.

‘Oh! I’m DJ, training to be a neuroscientist.’

‘Well, I could use a neuroscientist’s help in speech therapy alright!’

‘Haha,’ DJ found his humour as Ananya's infectious laugh filled the air.

‘Well, I’m running late now, but we should talk sometime!’ Ananya said, on a more serious note, scribbling her email ID for him on his hand.

For DJ, she was the first of a kind -- A mix of a free-spirit and an academic student. 

After some animated writing to each other, DJ and Ananya decided to meet over a quick bite at lunch at one of the campus cafeterias. Despite prepping himself for the 'unexpected' with her, DJ found himself visibly surprised at her belief in after-lives.  

‘We’re from the land of reincarnation, DJ!’ Ananya snapped her fingers at DJ. ‘Why are you so lost?’

‘Well…’ DJ said, fumbling for words. ‘I’m not religious,’ he finally said.

‘Ah well, the concept isn’t a religious one alone, it’s more in the spiritual realm.’

‘I see,’ DJ said.

‘Ya, a lot of scientists are afraid to embrace their spiritual sides, for fear of going against the ‘culture’ of aethism, DJ,’ Ananya continued. ‘My Dad’s one of them!’

‘Hmm,’ DJ said, smiling more than he intended to.

DJ’s phone popped up an alert that reminded him to return some library books and finding something free-spirited awakening inside him in her presence, DJ mustered up the courage to ask her out on a date.

‘Sure, let’s meet at the cafe, ‘day-after-tomorrow’ from the library, for lunch on Saturday’ she replied, with a wink. 

‘I’m going to a conference later on the weekend.’

‘Who talks like that?’ DJ asked amused.

‘A speech therapist?’ she shot back. 

After the first few awkward exchanges on the date, the reticent DJ found himself at a loss for words. Soon he found Ananya doing her Ananya thing and launching into Dhananjay's checkered core, empathy emanating from her, like an unbridled horse. Before he knew it, she'd reached Dhananjay who found himself bringing out his own core, feeling like a half-munched upon apple. And when he got into his element, unjudged, he and his void began to come forth more and more.

As the evening went by, Ananya’s amusing amour amassed more and more ‘foray points’ slowly until he could just about barge into her heart like he’d always belonged. He took his place like a near-insider, giving her the impression of someone bumping into her with unintentional intimacy and pushing her into a corner in quick, confident strides.  As soon as he moved towards her, his head angled just right, she yielded to his unstated declaration.

It started to rain just as they headed out of the downtown area. The water slid down their faces, outlining some features and rushing by others, as if taking a cue from their togetherness.

Over the next six months, their relationship had become like a runaway child, with a will all of its own. They’d watch it romp about, helplessly, paying no heed to either parent.

‘What happened to us?’ DJ wondered for the umpteenth time. Ananya hadn’t offered any explanations, leave alone closure. She’d only left, as unexpectedly as she’d entered his life, leaving behind a string of questions.

Hit by the unexpected news, DJ stood at the window leading to his pigeon-holed balcony, his head angled exactly at that of the furious rains. The confident downpour gave him silent solace. Building their ‘son’, each Lego piece at a time, had been their gift to each other. And DJ had no closure, so the son lay untouched, glorious as ever, which didn’t help. He was still as strong, radiant, righteous and oh so layered and angled between the two of them. He was just no longer relevant. Irrelevant. How that word stretched itself out on the window ‘pain’ in the rain. Spelled itself out irreverently. Irrelevant. Irreverent. As if the words had a right to be there.

DJ yelled at the empty caves, the resounding echo making his anger a trifle more dramatic. But magically, after ten-odd years, somewhere the ice that had settled onto his soul, started to melt into the cathartic moisture his hardened and seemingly stoic existence had long thwarted him from descending into.

 (Coming up in Muse India!)