Fly fly

When staring at the face of a tragic loss, one tends to look back upon life and understand what could have been done differently. The scars from the past start itching, a reminder that it was all real and the tormented heart then harbours only one question – Could I have prevented this? Anubhav knew exactly what he should have done. Looking back, it all seemed like yesterday and not a decade ago.

In the spring of 2004, Anubhav reached Barcelona to study Engineering in one of the most reputed institutes. A distant relative of his, who worked at the peer, had arranged a one room apartment for him at Carrer de Balmes, a mile away from the huge Roman Catholic Church – Sagrada Familia. Anubhav’s room had just enough space for a bed, a cupboard, a small study table and a wash basin. He would have loved to have a television and a refrigerator but his scholarship money didn’t allow it.

The light blue colour of the walls added a certain aesthetic appeal to the otherwise congested room. Above the door, there was a huge poster of a girl siting on a stack of hay, cupping her chin with her hand and gazing across the lush green field towards the horizon. On it ran a powerful quote, Todo estara bien al final. Si no esta bien, entonces no es el final. Everything will be fine in the end. If it is not fine, then it is not the end.

Anubhav gazed outside his window looking at the tapering pyramidal structures over the Sagrada Familia which glistened with the sparkling sunlight against the backdrop of a bright blue, cloudless Andalusian sky. A

 flock of tourists walk towards Barcelona’s famed church. Though there was a lot of traffic, no one was using the horn. This surprised Anubhav who was used to people in India honking incessantly at red lights, as if expecting the timed devices to switch colours in response to sound pollution. Some of them did not even stop at the red light – they pressed the accelerator instead of the brake, as if blessed with immortality.

Anubhav turned and caught a glimpse of himself on the mirror above the wash basin. His usually sharp, light blue eyes looked hazy owing to the long and tiring journey. His eyes narrowed and he absently stroked his jet black hair. As always, his hair did not need the services of a comb, it was silky and fell fashionably just by finger combing. Friends at home used to call him Tom Cruise, not without reason.

There was a letter on the bed.

Congratulations, you have been selected for the four year Industrial Engineering course with us at Universitat Politecnica de Catalunya ...

The next morning was beautiful, the skies were cloudless, there was a cool breeze and kids dotted the parks with their colorful frisbees. Everyone seemed so happy, so aggressively and flamboyantly upbeat that Anubhav felt exhausted already. It was the first day of college and first days are hard especially when you are in a foreign country. It is like coming to a new planet and it takes some time to adjust to the new atmosphere.

It was indeed quite an eventful first day for Anubhav. The registrar in the admin block refused to provide him with an identity card. Apparently, the scrawny kid in his passport-sized photographs had no resemblance to the athletic build he possessed presently. After a brief argument he was provided with a temporary ID card, but by then it was already late for the class.

The Escola Tècnica Superior d’Enginyeria Industrial de Barcelona was a brown, ten-storeyed building with more than a dozen classrooms on every

 floor. When he finally managed to locate his classroom, it was ten minutes too late.

The teacher, a bald man with an egg-shaped face, was scribbling industriously on the blackboard. The students had their eyes on the board, their hands running like F1 cars. First day of college – spirits were high. At that rate of taking notes, the notebooks wouldn’t last ten days. But one would be surprised to see some of these students using the same notebook during their final year.

‘May I come in, sir?’ asked Anubhav courageously, his hair tousled and shirt unevenly tucked in.

The teacher’s inexpressive face twitched instantly as if someone had just asked him for his kidney. With the poise of a Shakespearean actor, he dropped the chalk on the desk and approached the class. The spines straightened as the class braced itself for a lecture.

Anubhav stood by the door, nervously biting his lip.

‘Hard work beats talent when talent fails to ... work hard,’ the teacher scowled, as he began his well-rehearsed speech about the importance of discipline. ‘And you know how to work hard? Well, you need to make a routine and stick to it. Be punctual because if you don’t ...’ Numerous examples were thrown at the class – episodes from the life of the philosopher Plato to that of the Portuguese footballer Figo. Some students wrote this down too. Sadly, every class had a few!

Then with a snort of derision, the teacher gestured at Anubhav to get in and returned to the board. Head down, Anubhav dragged himself to the last row of the class. He occupied the one empty seat between two Spanish girls; one, a short, buxom brunette and the other a tall blonde with delicate cheekbones and deep hazel eyes.

‘As I was saying before Mr Whatever interrupted me,’ the teacher continued monotonously, ‘Ductility and malleability are ...’

 Anubhav dropped his bag on the ground and pulled out a brand new notebook. He was quite afraid to look ahead assuming that everyone would be staring at him, so instead he chose to look towards his left. The tall Spanish girl’s shiny silver watch was the first thing to catch his attention. The watch seemed expensive, it had a small face and she was wearing it on her non-writing right hand. She seemed to be a slow writer but the words looked beautiful from there. Artistic. Her face wasn’t visible, it was hidden behind strands of her straight hair which looked like threads of gold. Suddenly, she turned towards Anubhav. He panicked and looked away instantaneously. His heart twitched. He looked straight ahead, his heart almost beating through his shirt.

During the break, the tall girl initiated a conversation with Anubhav. His embarrassment was short-lived.

‘Hola. Soy Annette. Eres de aqui?’

For a moment, Anubhav appeared to be lost in the eyes of his classmate. The hazel eyes, creamy skin and flawless features could have stunned the real Tom Cruise. Her tight skirt complemented her slender figure. Her voice was soothing. Soft and slow. Slightly accented. It almost calmed his racing heart. ‘Sorry ... I am sorry.’ Anubhav replied apologetically. ‘Lo siento. No sé español.’

The girl seemed a bit disappointed. But she tried again. ‘Ah! Hola. My name Annette. You from around?’ She offered a faint smile.

‘Mi nombre es Anubhav. Soy de la India.’ With the vigour of a five-year- old, Anubhav exhausted the entire list of Spanish words he had learned prior to arriving in Barcelona.

‘So ... you ... new here?’

‘Si.’ Yes. Anubhav replied with a smile on his face.

‘I am new here too. Soy de Valencia. First time Barcelona.’ Annette gave

a big smile, holding out her slender hand. Anubhav took it.

 During the lunch hour in the cafeteria, Anubhav hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He had the wrong card ... he went to the wrong counters ... and finally decided that he wasn’t quite hungry. The bald teacher from the morning class was gulping mouthfuls of risotto and massaging his tummy. The chairs in front of him were empty. He chose not to sit there and instead went to the table next where Annette welcomed him with a smile. She even offered him a part of her salad which although unappetising, Anubhav found hard to say no to.

Next day, Annette helped him with the cafeteria card and escorted him to the counter where students could redeem the student discount. She also convinced him to try shrimp paella, a Valencian rice delicacy which Anubhav swallowed with the same vigour as the bald teacher sitting on the next table. Annette did most of the talking. She told him about her father who played in the under-nineteen team for Valencia Football Club but had to drop out after an injury. Her English wasn’t very good but Anubhav appreciated her candour.

In the evening, they wandered around the streets and then dined at Café Emma at Carrer de Pau Claris. It was an old-fashioned coffee shop – small circular tables with a couple of chairs around it. The lights were dim and the air smelled of coffee and pastries.

Annette had a lot to talk about. It was mostly about Valencia, about its football club, its beaches Costa Blanca and Malvarosa and the famous Fallas festival – a weeklong fiesta, which according to her was all about firecrackers, booze and women dressing exuberantly.

‘At midnight,’ she said excitedly, ‘the ninots, the thirty feet tall models, stuffed with fireworks, are set on fire ... it is crazy ... loud ... it is like a street party ...’ She threw her hands here and there. ‘You got to be there ... the noise, the rush ... God ... I cannot explain the feeling.’

Anubhav stared blankly at her, captivated by her infectious enthusiasm.

 After the meal, they went for a leisurely stroll on the clean, well-lit footpaths of Barcelona. ‘I am a very simple girl,’ she smiled widely. ‘Tight dresses, fancy parties ... No sir, I don’t want those. A cosy couch, few good books, my sweetheart’s arms around me – that’s all I want. And, maybe some chocolate brownie ... and ... and ... I would also like to go on a trip from Barcelona to Rome ... of course on my personal yacht ... and ... uh ... uh ... uh ... a private date with Ryan Gosling at the Eiffel restaurant. That’s all. And maybe a million Euros. That’s it.’

They exchanged serious glances and then broke into a fit of laughter.

The list of desires was exchanged for a while. When they had exhausted it all they walked in a companionable silence. Annette looked straight ahead, tiny lines forming on her forehead. Anubhav glanced sideways and noticed, as if in slow motion, her fanning eyelids drop and then rise, exposing her bright, greenish-brown eyes.

‘You know what, Anne? Smiling faces don’t interest me,’ ventured Anubhav earnestly. ‘But, a face lost in thought,’ he thumped his chest twice and added, ‘it gets my heart racing.’

Annette looked away, blushing to the roots of her hair.

Around midnight, Annette called for a cab. Before getting in, she planted a faint kiss on the cheeks of her patient listener. It was the same routine for the next few days. Instead of Café Emma, it was Fonda Espanya and Gabriel’s Tapas restaurant. Only the duration of the kiss changed.

During the weekend, they visited Font Magica de Montjuic, also known as Magic Fountain. They had to walk for over a mile on the Av del Parallel to reach there. Hand in hand, they squeezed through the dense crowd of visitors and sat on the railing surrounding the huge fountain, ready to witness the spectacle.

The shifting colours at the base of the fountain illuminated the moving water jets. The colours changed from red to blue, green to yellow, in sync with the rhythm of the music. For a moment the stream of water subsided

 ...

and then suddenly spurted out high in the air, dressed in a different colour in tandem with the fast beat of a different song. It rose and it fell, as if a supernatural power controlled its movements. It was truly, magic.

Couples kissed with the fountain in the background.

Chilled beer was available at a premium. Annette thought – if not here then where ... She bought two bottles and passed one to Anubhav, who never had alcohol before but acquiesced readily. Tangy and cold, Annette could feel the liquid go down her throat and invigorate her senses. In contrast, Anubhav found it difficult to swallow the bitter liquid, but tried to keep up with her. Annette bought two more, but after seeing Anubhav’s struggle, she drained both the bottles herself with ease.

There’s a strange thing about alcohol, sometimes we drink when something bad has happened and we want to suppress our feelings. Sometimes we drink when something good happens and we want to celebrate. Other times we just drink, and for no particular reason, things begin to happen.

The evening sped by in a trance of alcohol.

With her head slightly titled, Annette noticed the water stream disappear. Apart from the muted sighs from the crowd, there was total silence. Annette blinked, her thoughts swerving in the randomness of her mind. Then with a sudden boom, out of nowhere, a massive stream broke out of hiding in the form of a flame ... and then disappeared. Whoosh ... Gone. Then the same thing happened again. The gap between the successive rise and fall got smaller and smaller – the water rose higher and higher. Annette’s heartbeats copied this movement – it swept her heart clean of all her inhibitions and left it with nothing but unobstructed joy.

She rested her head on Anubhav’s shoulder and looked up towards him. In the next moment, their eyes were locked. The water jets in front of them

 rose skywards. The tempo of the associated music increased significantly. Annette moved closer, their bodies touching each other.

‘Would you like to kiss me?’ She purred.

Anubhav could hear her breathe. His ears were getting warmer.

‘Only a madman will say no.’ Anubhav replied, feeling a tingle of

excitement flow through his body. He leaned into her and their lips touched. Within moments it deepened. Annette’s hands were on his thighs, stroking them gently. He allowed his hands to slide across her midriff. A knot formed in his stomach.

Annette suddenly broke away. ‘I am thirsty ...’ she pouted. ‘Would you like some beer?’

‘Beer,’ said Anubhav heavily, his eyes partially closed. He looked over his shoulder, trying to spot the person selling alcohol. ‘I don’t see him ...’

‘There’s beer in my refrigerator,’ said Annette mischievously.

‘WHAT ...’ exclaimed Anubhav, suitably shocked – his eyes wide open. Moments later they were hurrying down Carrer de Mexic towards

Carrer de Tarragona. They took the metro from Tarragona. The knot in his stomach seemed to tighten and he felt hollow inside. Annette clung to his muscular frame. No words were exchanged during the journey. Just the heart boiled with anticipation.

Within thirty minutes Anubhav was sitting in Annette’s apartment. The arrangement was similar to his room but hers was considerably bigger in size. There was an attached bathroom too. She excused herself and promised to return within five minutes. She reappeared within a minute slightly undressed. She took something from her cupboard, threw a flying kiss at Anubhav and disappeared again. Anubhav helped himself to some water. The knot in the stomach was making its effects felt on his chest. He took in a deep breath. Today is the day, he thought happily.

The lights went out and yellowish-orange street light filled the room.

 Annette entered wearing a full-sleeved black negligee. Her flowing long hair covered parts of her body left visible by her transparent clothing. She had a beautiful figure, full round breasts, a narrow waist and tapering legs. Before Anubhav could realize, she was on top of him. She unbuttoned his shirt – a hard body, few hairs on his chest and a great display of muscles.

She sighed and bent down, her bosom tracing the length of his body. He gently ran his hands on her smooth body, her lips within inches of his. Outside a car sped by, followed by a bike. Her hot breath was burning a hole in Anubhav’s face. He allowed his hands to slide towards her chest – but, she pulled herself up.

‘Are you ready ...’ she teased, her smoky voice sensuous.

She pulled the ribbon around her waist. The satin cloth slipped exposing her tanned cleavage. Then with a jerk, she let the entire cloth slip down her shoulder, which fell like a towel falling from the body of a sensuous blonde in a Hollywood movie.

A pair of small hooped earrings and a fruity perfume was all she had on her.

Anubhav looked at her firm body. Bouncy breasts, the slender waist and long silky legs glistened in the dim light. He brushed his hair absently, the stretch making the cuts on his athletic body more prominent. Clenching his teeth, he drew a long breath through his mouth. It made a shrill whistling sound. Annette could feel her nipples stand in attention ... in one quick movement, Anubhav turned her over ... ‘Let’s see what you have got,’ he whispered sensuously.

That night Annette felt thirsty a whole lot of times.

Two weeks after their night of unrestrained passion, the duo went for a weekend trip to the Catalan sacred mountain – Montserrat. In the morning, they trekked to the monastery and soaked in the calmness of the

 

 surroundings and they heard the Basilica choir boys sing lilting choral music.

In the afternoon, they escaped to a meadow covered with knee-high grass. The plan was to spend the entire noon lying on a blanket under the shade of a tree.

Annette ran across the grass-covered field; the long strands of the bright green grass tickled her palms as she pushed through them. She did not know why, but whenever Anubhav tried to hold her, she moved away. She was too frightened to look straight into his eyes. Anubhav did not mind, he had a feeling that somehow the resistance would make the union more exciting.

The sun was bright and the autumn wind gentle. A huge mountain stood silently behind them. The birds were whistling a happy tune. After a brief chase Anubhav finally caught her and swooped her up in his arms. She looked up at the blue sky, her body feeling lighter than usual as though someone had pumped Helium gas inside her. Suddenly, everything seemed natural to her – she felt like she was staring at the ultimate reality and there was no point resisting it. It was the same feeling a sailor has when he sails through a wall of fog, and then his eyes catch the first glimpse of a bright island – a feeling of undebatable reality, something one feels when there is little too much wine in the blood.

Anubhav dropped her gently to the ground, the shining tall grass covered their bodies as they lay on the motionless earth. The small patches of clouds cutting across the sky cloaked them in occasional darkness. A lonely tree on the top of the mountain caught the slanting sunlight. They looked at each other and Anubhav pressed on her with a purposeful insistence ... there was no need for consent ... no need of permission. They made love right in the middle of the meadow.

Anubhav sipped water from a bottle.

 Annette still dazed from the act of exhaustion, put her arms around him and whispered in his ears, ‘Senza di te la mia vita non ha senso.’ She kissed him on his cheeks.

‘I don’t know Spanish, sweetie.’

‘It is Italian, my love. It means, without you, my life has no meaning.’ They made love again ...

Five days later, Anubhav was having lunch in Annette’s apartment.

She was staring gloomily outside the apartment window. ‘I should have known ... I should have ...’ she muttered under her breath. She couldn’t

breathe, her skin was itching, a kind of itch which grows on touching it.

‘I am just saying,’ said Anubhav earnestly, his eyes watery, ‘things are

going too fast ... It is scary for me ...’

Annette made a few indecipherable hand gestures and looked around

shiftily. Her body shook slightly, bitterness evident on her face. Her skin was prickling, as if red ants were walking all over her body. When she turned towards Anubhav, he could feel the explosion of rage in her eyes.

‘YOU THINK I AM A WHORE ... DON’T YOU?’ She roared, eyes riveted on Anubhav.

‘Anne ...’ Anubhav reached for her hand. ‘Calm down, Anne ... all I am saying is that we should take a break and ...’

She could see her love burning away in the fire of Anubhav’s indifference. In the curling wisps of the smoke of heartbreak, she felt a part of her innocence leave her.

‘You think I am whore who sleeps around ...’ She said, pulling her hand back. Tears rolled down her eyes. ‘Get out ... hijo de puta ... Get out ... Right now.’

When we look up towards the sky and see swollen clouds of different shapes, we sometimes see resemblance between the cloud and a rabbit, or a

 

 puppy or the shape of a heart. It is a type of make-believe game, almost like life, where we keep seeing things the way we want them to be. Annette had given Anubhav everything she could possibly give – her time, company, body and heart. She had seen a prince in him, but he was just a black shapeless cloud – nothing but a monster.

Anubhav could hear her scream as he went down the stairs.

By that evening Anubhav had embarked on a new journey ... a journey of self-satisfaction, the preparations for which had begun two weeks back. That evening he was spotted kissing the short, buxom brunette from his class in front of a shark tank at L’Aquarium, near the beach. The metamorphosis was complete.

During the next three years, Anubhav dated half the girls in his class. With a brilliantly incisive mind and striking physical features, it was almost impossible to say no to that seemingly innocent face. He moved from girl to girl as if there was no hell. But things were going to change. All the tactics, he thought were foolproof were going to fail.

He was about to meet Esha ...