Trap

Outside, the wind was gathering speed.

Anubhav was sitting with his back pressed against the sofa and his head tilted towards the ceiling. His eyes were closed. He could hear some faint noises, as if people were talking to him through water. A drifting numbness seemed to carry his body and for a moment the sofa felt like quicksand. He was sinking ... and there was nothing he could do about it.

He tried to pull himself back, his head began to hurt as if a hangover had kicked in. He was sinking fast. He was having trouble breathing ... he felt like something was covering his face. Then from the centre of blackness within his head came a dazzling source of light with a deafening whistle ... as if he was in front of a speeding train.

He was stuck, his entire body numb unable to move. There was no escape. But, he was sinking, the weight of the truth pulling him down. The truth that could save him, the truth Esha had told him yesterday.

The sound was gone and it was all white.

Slowly, one by one, the images from the past appeared before his eyes – Esha smiling, pulling her fringes behind her ear, gazing into his brooding eyes. He felt paralysed, unable to push them away. Esha ... Why Esha? Why ...?

He jerked his head vigorously, left and right, denying the images that were flowing in. But, within moments, his thoughts transported him to Los

 Tarantoas in Placa Reial, Barcelona ... the place where he had seen Esha for the first time.

It was the final year of Engineering. Anubhav’s friend Alvaro had invited him for a Flamenco. Anubhav wasn’t interested in art forms. He had obliged with his presence not to support Alvaro who was the lead guitarist that day but to take a good look at the young Spanish tap dancer who studied at the University. Alvaro had promised an introduction to her.

Spaniards are known for their passion and it was most evident in the rhythmic beats of the Flamenco. It combines highly expressive dancing uniquely characterized by its hand clapping, percussive footwork and intricate arm and body movements with Andalusian music in the background. The rhythmic feet-stomping coupled with sweeping arm movements is one of the best theatrical representations of Spanish cultural richness.

The stage was set, forty chairs were arranged in a neat row with column arrangement in front of it. Sofa sets were lined on either side of those chairs and there was a bar behind it, directly opposite the stage. There was a second floor – the gallery, which was also lined with sofas and provided an incredible view of the stage.

Anubhav and his friends occupied the chairs closer to the bar.

People were walking in. Anubhav was drawing something on a piece of paper when he looked up absently. That was the moment. A girl, dressed in a khaki shirt and dark blue hot pants was looking for a seat. He moved left and right on his seat to catch a glimpse of her face. Flowing black hair, lean, long limbs, curves ... a marvellous body ... but he couldn’t see her face.

And then she turned. The oxygen level in the hall suddenly seemed to drop. Her impeccable beauty stunned Anubhav – he blinked a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t a mirage. She had a generous face that looked ready to smile. There wasn’t a hint of makeup on her face, and yet it glistened like a sea devoid of waves on a bright sunny day. Her eyes were

 sharp with a tinge of hubris in them. It looked as if those eyes had seen everything from condemnation to suffering, and yet were unruffled, ready for a fresh challenge. Trailing her was a faint smell of Johnson’s baby powder ... Esha Arora ...

‘Ola señor. Is this seat taken?’ Esha asked, pointing towards the empty aisle seat beside Anubhav. Her voice was soft but clear as a small silver bell.

Anubhav kept staring ...

‘Señor, the seat?’ Esha asked, hoping to revive her awestruck observer. ‘Oh, y-yes ... P-please sit. I am Anubhav. H-hello.’ Her perfect

eyelashes fanned her bright eyes. Anubhav held the stare for a moment, forced to let go in the next. That had never happened before.

‘Esha.’ She smiled, a faint dimple forming on her left cheek. She sat down and said, ‘I see you are quite an artist, Anubhav.’

‘Excuse me?’

Esha pointed towards the pamphlet in Anubhav’s hand. It was the pamphlet circulated by the promoters of the Flamenco. It had a nice picture of the group along with their names. On the other side was a close-up of the director, a man with a square jaw and long white unkempt hair. Over his picture, there was a nice little sketch of the male genitalia.

‘It is not m-mine’, Anubhav blushed, and slid the pamphlet under his seat.

‘I am sure it isn’t,’ Esha sneered, and turned towards the stage.

It was an ordinary start, something Anubhav would have forgotten had it been anyone but Esha. She seemed like a perfect next.

The show begun with a lady’s melancholic voice; it soon transformed into a fast, explosive kind of music that stirred the blood in Anubhav’s body. Together, with the beat of the drum box, lightning prick of chords on the guitar and the pounding of the stomping feet of women dressed gorgeously in red and black, it was a show that gave goosebumps.

 Anubhav felt uneasy. He glanced to his right at frequent intervals hoping to start a conversation. She seemed engrossed in the dance, so Anubhav decided to scrutinize the awful way in which he had screwed up his first impression – the uncharacteristic stammer and then the lewd drawing did not help his case. But he was hopeful. All I need now is a brilliant opening line. During the intermission, the lights were switched on and Anubhav was still looking for that elusive opening line. He decided to speak the first thing that came to his mind.

‘The dancer is amazing, isn’t she?’ said Anubhav enthusiastically. What’s wrong with me today, he cursed himself.

‘The tall one, right? That’s Selena,’ There was a hint of excitement in her voice. ‘She has been practicing since she was four. She is magnificent, isn’t she?’

‘You know her?’ Anubhav seemed genuinely surprised.

‘Yes of course, she is my classmate.’

‘You study at the University?’ Anubhav asked, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘Final year, Civil Engineering. UPC.’

‘Wow!’ Anubhav exclaimed, sensing an opportunity. ‘So, tell me this

Esha. How come, for all these years my eyes never fell on a gorgeous girl like you?’ Anubhav delivered this with confidence accumulated over the years of chasing one girl after the other. On many occasions, he had used this simple line as an ice breaker, and the results had been more than satisfactory. Normally, girls would smile sheepishly at his comment and then try to cover their embarrassment by changing the topic of conversation.

‘Oh boy! I am flattered, sir. Boys from other departments don’t visit our side too often, very few girls you see there. Very unfortunate bunch,’ she replied sarcastically.

No ... No ... Anubhav concealed his disappointment beneath a shifty smile. Once again, he was forced to look for a good line.

 The music started gathering tempo and the room was instantly charged with energy. The fierce beat of the heels on the floor coupled with the rise and fall of the singer’s voice enamoured the audience. Selena was way better than the other two dancers. Her agile body, graceful yet powerful gestures and facial expressions exuded a mixture of anguish, sorrow and passion. The Flamenco drew the crowd into the intense yet unknown story of lost love. The show ended with a standing ovation.

In the middle of the thunderous applause, the director came forward to introduce the performers.

What is this you are reading Esha?’ asked Anubhav suddenly, gesturing towards a book on Esha’s chair.

‘This?’ She turned and picked up a hardcover book. ‘It’s the history of Prague. I was there last week and the guide kept talking about Franz Kafka and the Velvet revolution and some other stuff. I thought I would give it a read.’

‘You liked anything you saw there?’

Esha acted as if she had not heard the question. She rolled her eyes and replied after a few moments. ‘I liked the Charles Bridge,’ she replied uninterestedly, pressing the book against her chest. ‘The baroque statues and the incredible vistas up and down the river, it is incredible in the morning.’

‘I must leave now,’ said Anubhav urgently, taking cue from her tone. ‘It was wonderful meeting you.’ Anubhav smiled and left. He knew he had lost the conversational battle and there was no use pushing it further.

He did not meet Selena that day.

In the night, he thought about Esha. She wouldn’t be easy, he thought. But he had a plan. Very soon she would be mine.

The gods were laughing.

 

 The next morning Esha’s roommate announced the arrival of a package. It was small but beautifully wrapped.

The card simply read, ‘I think you will like it. Anubhav.’

Esha was no stranger to gifts. Ever since her arrival in Spain, she had received quite a few from relative strangers who wanted to be lovers. Some she received from friends who also had the same request. Her eyes were often dazzled by earrings, brooches, necklaces or splendidly designed bottles of perfumes. Every single time it was returned to the sender with a thank you note. Some, not ready to give up, had fired Cupid’s artillery few more times without making any impression on her. The gifts were shiny and expensive; Esha would have rather preferred a bunch of lilies.

She opened the package, running the list of possibilities in her head. Ring ... Pendant ... Elder Wand ... she smiled silently. Surprisingly, the gift wasn’t anything she had expected. It was a beautiful hand-crafted souvenir of the Charles Bridge, the historic bridge over the Vltava river in Prague. The vibrant colours along with a silver border made it a perfect, yet inexpensive gift. There was a price tag, three euros. She kept it.

The following day she found a note on her desk in the classroom. It read: ‘You owe me a coffee. Nexus building at 3 pm?.’ Esha checked her time table immediately. No classes after 2:40. Anubhav had done his research. She was impressed.

Anubhav was seated in the corner of the open roof cafe when Esha reached. She went directly to the counter and ordered coffee. She swiped her college identity card, and tapped impatiently on the counter waiting for the coffee to arrive. All the while Anubhav was looking at her. She knew it – somehow women can always sense if someone is looking at them. She took the coffee, rushed towards the table and almost slammed the porcelain cup on the table.

‘What do you want from me?’ she asked furiously, unsure why she was so angry.

 Anubhav did not reply. He smiled and took a sip.

You think you are very smart, right? Esha thought to herself; she bent and placed her hands on the table. ‘Excuse me? Have you gone deaf? I asked you something.’

‘All I wanted is coffee,’ Anubhav took another sip, ‘and I must say, it’s great.’

The expression on her face didn’t change.

‘Although, I wouldn’t mind if you sit down,’ added Anubhav coolly. He stood up and pulled the chair behind her.

Esha stared intently, her mind scanning the reason of her anger. There were few seconds of indecision but eventually she sat down.

It will take two months to get her to bed, Anubhav blew over his hot coffee and smiled to himself.

It started out with awkward hi-hellos being exchanged by relative strangers meeting in hallways and cafeterias. But it was forcefully carried forward by Anubhav to intellectual discussions about earthquake engineering, application of nanotechnology in material engineering and the importance of wind engineering in building skyscrapers. Anubhav, presumably not admitting his own enormous infatuation even to himself, spent more time studying civil engineering than his own course. It did not feel different ... why would it? Wooing a girl was a difficult job and he was ready to do the time considering the prize ... a perfect 36B.

Accustomed to unthinking promiscuity, he remained oblivious of his own romantic feelings for Esha. The excitement of discovery transformed into joyous laughter and mutual comfort. Initially, Anubhav reminded himself of the relationship targets he had set for himself. Two months became three and then four. Very soon it did not matter anymore. Her easy sense of humour and warmth had driven the timelines away.

 

 Esha was very simple – a quality Anubhav prized the most. Her high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes and impeccable figure made every girl envious. Yet, when a decent looking girl crossed them on the street, Anubhav remembered Esha pushing her shades up on her head and sighing, ‘Wow. I wish, I was that gorgeous.’ She seemed completely oblivious of her own beauty. Her naivety impressed him.

They did all the things a normal couple would do – go for long walks, have late night coffees and occasionally visit theatres and concerts. Anubhav accompanied her to the shopping trips at La Rambla, the kilometre long, tree-lined, shopping street which led to the sea. On the beach, they spoke for hours and discovered secrets about each other they hadn’t shared with anyone else. Esha spoke very little, but whenever she did Anubhav did not utter a word. He simply gazed at her, and every time something twitched within him. He felt he could see beneath Esha’s controlled exterior – he saw an exuberant child who loved to go to the beach, build a sandcastle or have a water balloon fight with her friends. She did all of those with Anubhav.

He felt he had a unique power – the power to make Esha happy. He felt the urge to exercise this power more, and most of the times he was successful. Sometimes, Anubhav would think of the girls he had dated previously ... those were all about sensations, but this one is way different, he would say to himself. As the famous saying goes, lust feels a lot like love until you are asked to make a sacrifice and Anubhav was ready to sacrifice anything to see Esha smile.

They were in a platonic relationship for six months. There were moments when Anubhav felt the odd rush of warmth but then Esha would back away uneasily. If it had been some other girl, Anubhav would have quietly extricated himself from the meaningless charade. But this time it was different. The entrepreneurial spirit of all men who had fought battles for their love echoed within him – If it is valuable, it won’t come easy.

 One weekend, Esha was away on a trip with her friends and Anubhav found himself with nothing to do. In the morning, he got out of his bed and walked around the room, thinking about her. He scanned through the pictures in the drawer – the two of them in front of the Colosseum in Rome, standing in front of an armed guard in Berlin, riding a carriage in the rain through the Old Town in Vienna. In all those pictures, they were smiling and hugging, but sadly only one of them was in love.

His melancholic heart pushed him to pen a few lines.

The spring breeze With coffee cups, No words said Only eyes catch-up, On green fields With trembling lips, Our hearts collide On the moist mud.

It was as if God was playing a cruel joke on him. So many girls had confessed their love for him, but he did not care for any of them. Now, this one girl whom he loved more than life itself, did not consider him worthy enough. It reminded him of the famous Spanish saying, lo que se siembra, se recoge. What you sow is what you will collect.

He told himself that love takes time. Does the elevator come any faster when one presses the button multiple time? Sometimes, you got to wait with a starving heart unsure whether it would really happen. He felt that someday, the full moon of belief would disentangle itself from the boughs and branches of the trees and rise high in the cloudless sky, driving away the shadows of uncertainty from Esha’s heart. But when would that happen? He surely couldn’t wait forever.

It was time for a decision.

 The relationship had moved beyond friendship; he had never felt so strongly for any other girl. He was offering companionship to a girl ... attending to her whims by undermining his own desires ... and what was he getting in return ... nothing. A man, he thought should assert himself because if he doesn’t, he risks being called a ‘man without a spine’. I must act.

The next evening, they were holding hands walking through the Nova Icária Park. It was the middle of January; the wind was chilly and the bustle of the city was far behind them. They walked towards the beach, the sun had disappeared and millions of stars filled the sky like glitter caught in a majestic net spread by the Gods. A blue glass building stood a few hundred metres ahead of them, its reflection sparkled on the calm sea.

The beach was completely deserted.

Staring deep into her eyes, Anubhav wondered how special Esha was – she was outrageously beautiful, adventurous and impulsive yet she was humble, delicate, sensitive and tender. A huge smile appeared on Esha’s face, the kind she had only when she was with him. For a moment, Anubhav had forgotten all about his desire to act.

They could hear a faint screech of seagulls. The moonlight glistened over the sea water.

‘So, what is this about?’ Esha asked playfully. The slight wind made her hair sway. It was sensual, and still beyond every sensuality.

Anubhav didn’t reply. He swooped her up in his arms and spun her around. Seven rounds. It all happened so fast that she didn’t get time to react. He carefully dropped Esha on her feet, and he himself fell on the sand. Within a second or two she fell on him. They broke out laughing.

Anubhav could feel her breasts rub against his chest. I must act. At once, he stopped laughing, and looked intensely towards her like a tiger ready to pounce on some hapless cattle. In the next instant, he grabbed her torso, rolled her over and climbed on top of her.

 The tiny waves crashed against the shore making a gentle whistling sound.

His fingers ran against her inner thighs, and moved upwards, tenderly brushing the side of her breasts and finally resting on her cheek. Cupping her face, he leaned in and kissed her.

He was breathing heavily, and what had started out tenderly, gathered pace. He kissed her multiple times, on her temples, eyes, cheeks and on her neck and then slowly descended towards her chest. He could feel her heart pounding. He grabbed the zipper of her jacket, and pulled it down revealing her cleavage. She felt a shiver and slightly twisted her body. His fingers sneaked under her striped, pink shirt and traversed circles over her breast. It turned him on with a vengeance.

With his unwavering eyes fixed on hers, he thrust his hand inside her loose jeans. She moaned. He leaned in, trying to reach her lips. He felt like all his worries were melting away.

She pushed him away.

‘Get off me ...’ She began to resist. ‘Let me go.’ She pulled herself up. ‘Stay away from me,’ She screamed, rose to her feet and ran away. Anubhav was stunned – he lay on the sand hoping she would return.

A day earlier, he wanted to be a man with a spine. The heart wasn’t

under consideration.

A tide of despair swept over him. Every attempt to communicate with

Esha failed. There was no one he could blame but himself. Everything was perfect, but he had wanted more. Greed.

All he was left with were painful memories of Esha’s voice, her laughter, her silly jokes, and her warmth. He spent sleepless nights wondering how life might have been if he would have been more patient. Would Esha ever forgive me?

The placement season was around the corner. Anubhav immersed himself in textbooks and mock interview classes, still expecting to see Esha

 in the libraries or in the trainings rooms. He couldn’t spot her during the interviews as well. Anubhav got a job in a large French conglomerate with its headquarters in the French city of Lille. Esha didn’t sit for the interviews ... Anubhav learnt from one of her friends that she had enrolled for a post- graduation course in Cornell University.

There were no goodbyes.

The most important piece of a healthy relationship is communication. Talking and clearing things out when there is trouble. But Esha was gone. There were no conflicts to overcome nor any barriers to surmount; there was nothing that Anubhav could do. He left for Lille.

No parting words, No whispers made; A wave of questions, On a restless stretch; A lot of tears,

In the falling rain; With empty cups, Our winters came.

Why did you do this to me ... Why did you do this to me ...

It takes strength to hold on to something you love ... it takes more to let go. Everything in our subconscious, the unprocessed emotions, the unfulfilled desires, the secrets buried so deep that with time we forget they even exist, seek manifestation through our daily deeds. It bends our personality. The girls Anubhav dated in Lille, found that the hard way. All his romantic adventures ended with blood stains on the sheet. For Anubhav, somewhere deep within, love had come down to egotism and rejection had

 

 become a challenge. He felt it was romance that he was looking for, but inside him, romance had been long replaced by the desire to overpower – make a woman submit to his maleness. It was the only thing that made him happy.

After sometime, even those adventures lost their charm.

All he wanted was to rewind the film and rewrite the script. In hindsight, it was so easy to spot the mistake, to see how greedy and impatient he had been ...

It was a lonely, miserable time in Anubhav’s life. He took extra assignments and worked more hours than he should have. He did his own shopping, cooked his own meals and visited the Laundromat once a week. Work seemed too mundane, but he tried his best. Years moved on, and he was transferred to the Paris headquarters of the company. There he abused his manager in front of a roomful of customers and was suspended immediately.

It is said that the darkest hour of the night comes just before the dawn. While serving the last few days of his suspension, one morning, he received a small message on a social networking platform.

I am in Paris. Would you show me around? Esha.

Anubhav shut his eyes hard and opened again.

He could feel his heart beat at the base of his throat as he read and re- read every word, worrying what it really meant. Then he snapped the laptop shut. It was as if a long-term expectation coming true had robbed him of the opportunity to dream of the beautiful thing which he hoped would never come true. The action plan for what needs to be done when it actually happened wasn’t ready ... it never seemed necessary.

It had almost been three years ... Had Esha finally forgiven her? But, how did it matter, even if she had? Things had changed for him. He started making a mental note of the pros and cons of meeting the girl who he considered responsible for his present state of crisis.

 A caged bird doesn’t fly away immediately when it finds the door open. It takes a few steps here and there just to soothe her unbelieving eyes that freedom is near, and then it spreads its wings and takes a leap. Anubhav, pushed the conflicting emotions away and allowed the excitement to drench his soul like the first summer drizzle.

He sent the following message.

Sure. When and where?

The reply did not come at once. He obsessively hit the refresh button every five seconds but nothing happened. He could not help but feel jealous of the romantics who lived in the pre-electronic era. No emails, no messengers, no tensions. And, then suddenly he heard the beep.

7 pm. Pont de l’Alma railway station.

Sure, I will be there. Anubhav replied.

Michael Simkins once said, ‘Paris is a place in which we can forget

ourselves, reinvent and expunge the dead weight of the past.’ For the first time, the magic of Paris was working on Anubhav.

There was something very different in its air. It had that indescribable stimulating and intoxicating effect that fills you with a strange longing for fun as if you had just consumed a bottle of champagne. Anubhav had already forgotten that for the past few months he had held Esha responsible for the mess his life had become. The Parisian air made his heart believe in the recurring dream he always had, that one day Esha will be his.

Anubhav stood on the pavement outside the exit of the railway station. He looked down the streets. There was something romantic, yet mysterious about the well-lit streets of Paris, it brought a smile to his face. After years of hopelessness, he was finally waiting for the girl about whom he had thought of every single day, for the last three years. The old poster from his apartment in Barcelona flashed in front of his eyes, 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. He smiled again.

 Sometimes, hope is not the best thing, it makes you go the wrong way and ruin the most important decision, whether to keep trying or to let go.

Emerging from the station, Esha brushed a lock of her jet black hair from her temples and looked around. Her black, long-sleeved, one button peplum hem jacket and her black skirt were in perfect contrast to her glossy red shirt. Her slim, perfectly waxed legs shone under the bright streetlights as she slowly moved towards Anubhav with a faint smile on her face.

Right from the moment Anubhav had received Esha’s message, he thought he would know what to say. Now, when she was a metre away from him, he fumbled for words. It was just like the time he had first met her. Everything that came to his mind seemed inappropriate for the moment. The quick shower, shave and perfume had made him look presentable, but they had no effect on his levels of anxiety. Somehow, he did not look like a man greeting a loved one after a long interval, he looked more like a man who had remembered her every day.

‘You look ... look stunning. How are you?’ Anubhav stammered, while Esha wrapped her arms around him, her black boots added three inches making her almost as tall as Anubhav. He held her tightly, letting the years of separation between them melt under the lights of the most romantic city on earth.

The hug lasted a little longer than what Anubhav had anticipated.

‘So,’ Anubhav said still looking at her, appreciating her beauty. ‘Would you like to go to the Eiffel tower.’

‘Wouldn’t it be crowded now?’ she asked softly.

‘Yeah, probably it will be.’

‘What other options do we have?’

‘Well, we can walk by the river, use the bridge at Pont Royal and go visit

Louvre.’

‘That sounds awesome,’ said Esha excitedly. ‘Let’s do that. You must be

having a great time here, Mr Tom Cruise,’

 ‘Come on, don’t you start,’ Anubhav mumbled.

‘Am I embarrassing you, my little baby?’ Esha teased playfully.

Paris was always known as the city of love. Couples, when they crossed

the bridge over the river Seine, would write their names on a padlock and latch it on the railings. They would hug and kiss each other profusely and then throw the key in the river, thus immortalizing their love. Anubhav remembered the last time he had crossed the bridge over Seine. He had wept there.

They walked by the serene river. At wide intervals, a tourist cruise would go by trailing tiny ripples. There were shining streaks of yellow on the water, reflecting the street lights. People dressed in colourful running attire jogged with iPods hooked onto their sleeves. It is said, running on the Quai de Orsay was one of the most unique experiences one can have. Well-lit cobblestoned streets, river Seine flowing by your side and the Eiffel tower, the majestic 324 metre high iron tower twinkling in a variety of colours right in front of you – what more could a person want?

They headed towards the Louvre. The water lapped silently; two slender men went past them on their bicycles mumbling something in French; the lights of a tourist boat flickered at a distance; there was a slight breeze; Esha inhaled, it was like mountain air, thin and refreshing.

Parisian air affected everyone in a different way. Suddenly, Esha started running, her arms outstretched and her head gazing towards the sky. Anubhav followed suit. After crossing a boat turned restaurant, she stopped and leaned against a railing overlooking the river. Anubhav stopped in front of her, hands on his knees, panting. Their eyes locked.

Esha broke her stare, manoeuvred herself over the railing, opened her shoes and sat there with her feet almost touching the river. Anubhav did the same, feeling the old vigour of chase bubbling inside him.

At a distance, the horn of a tourist boat blazed loudly.

 Esha rested her head on Anubhav’s shoulders, and just like that he felt something twitch deep inside him, something cold, yet his chest burned from its heat. He rested his cheeks on her head squishing her tidily arranged hair. His eyes remained open. On the right, he could see the city, brightly illuminated by artistic street lights. Towards his left, the beacons atop the Eiffel tower lit up the Parisian sky – red, green and blue. On the other side of the glistening river, was the brightly lit facade of Grand Palais. It was indeed the City of Lights.

The moon rose higher in the sky.

Esha told him about her time in Cornell University and then about her ancestral business at Palampur. Anubhav shared his experiences in Lille. Both had things to hide, yet they regained the familiarity they once had.

Esha took his hand in hers and closed her eyes. Anubhav felt his heart beat in the familiar fashion it did three years back. He could feel the silkiness of her hair under his cheek. It smelled of jasmine. Finally, he gave in and kissed her on the temple. But, the very next moment he felt blank.

It was the worst feeling one could have. For years, he was waiting for this exact moment and now when it was happening, he felt blank. The feeling of accomplishment of receiving what he had always hoped for and the feeling of hopelessness knowing it might just be an ephemeral event cancelled each other out. Blank. Not knowing what to do, he closed his eyes. The crisp Parisian breeze cleared his head.

‘I have never loved anyone like I have loved you. You are so different. So, beautiful,’ Anubhav thought to himself. Is it true? Will it really happen? Will she finally be mine?

A tourist ship was now approaching and the river water rose and rippled, touching their bare feet. The water was cold, it made Esha shiver slightly. Anubhav put his arms around her. He was getting conscious of her breath, of the softness of her hands and the coldness of her feet. He wanted to say, Esha – I love you, I love you, I love you – in the same way, a million other

 love-smitten men had pronounced their love in Paris. What else could he say, he pondered. I love you, the words echoed in his mind. There was nothing simpler yet more meaningful.

Thoughts recede but feelings do not. They just look for an opportunity, an odd spark. Anubhav pushed out the desire to whisper I love you in her ears. But the old feelings rushed in all at once. The feeling of awe, when from hundreds of voices in the cafeteria, his ears could filter Esha’s. The feeling of disbelief when she held his hand for the first time. The feeling of joy when she shared her difficulties with him. The feeling of accomplishment when she prioritized him before everything else. The sense of time stopping when he used to sit on the rusty benches in the garden near the Mechanical Engineering Department and look at her pass by. It had made him feel like a lonely man, left behind on a forsaken island looking at a ship that could save him, but passed by without even sparing him a glance.

An hour passed without them uttering a word. It was getting colder and Esha’s jacket, which was more about style than comfort, did not help. She folded up like a kitten and clung on to Anubhav. The noise of the cars and two wheelers seem to recede into the distance.

‘Anubhav,’ she said softly. Her voice rung like bells in an empty cathedral.

‘Yes, my dear.’

The conversation was brought to a steady halt by an incoming tourist cruise. The revving engine made hearing difficult. The sense of anticipation was building up within Anubhav as he felt his heart pounding. Was this the moment? Would things finally be the way he always wanted them to be?

‘Anubhav, would you come with me to India? We have just acquired a new plant there. You will make a very good manager.’

Anubhav smiled. Finally, it starts.

 ‘Anything for you. Anything.’ He said it involuntarily but so obviously frank that he tried to talk to himself; What did I just say. Do I really mean it? He looked at her to understand whether his feelings had reached her. Her expression resembled a look of weariness, as if her endurance was withering away. He didn’t understand what it signified. He kept looking at her ...

‘Do you have feelings for me, Esha?’

She looked away and did not answer for a moment. Then she began slowly. ‘I don’t know. I am a very complicated person, Anubhav.’

The words hurt but Anubhav was hopeful. She had come all the way to Paris to meet him and her tone clearly suggested she was giving it a thought. He took a deep breath and held it inside. He decided not to be greedy this time.

Their eyes locked. For a fleeting moment, in a tiny wisp of time floating like a lotus in a pond, Anubhav could see love in Esha’s eyes.

‘Anubhav, I really like you but there are things ...

Esha couldn’t complete the sentence. She just looked at him and he at her. Like many other stories, this too could have ended differently if that one sentence were completed.

The shrillness of Rashmi’s voice shook Anubhav out of his reverie.

Anubhav could see the tall figure of Rashmi bearing over him. She was a slim woman and had a face that one would surely remember. Dark brown eyes, jet black hair and splendid glowing cheeks with a hint of redness in them. Inspector Rashid and the sub-inspector who were conversing near the dinner table were also alarmed by this sudden scream. She seemed furious as she stared at Anubhav, expecting an answer.

‘Sorry?’ Anubhav said worried.

There was a distant clap of thunder. ‘Why did you murder Esha?’ Rashmi barked, her firm voice made every head turn.

 The tone of authority scared Anubhav and he couldn’t understand why she assumed it so naturally. She looked like an attractive, young woman – only her eyes disturbed him; it was like a welding torch cutting through the skin. The colour of Anubhav’s face changed rapidly. It took him sometime to utter the next few words.

‘What the hell are you saying Rashmi?’ he said. ‘I ... I didn’t murder Esha.’

‘Oh is that so? Did you or didn’t you enter Esha’s room through the back door after five? You were there for a minute. I saw everything. I saw you leave her room with that guilty expression on your face.’

Anubhav felt as if his entire body was folding into itself. His voice trembled as he said something. It wasn’t audible.

Sub-Inspector Navpreet gave a winning glance at the inspector.