In the midst of the floating gathering’s changing lights and overlapping music, their eyes had met. She knew then, they would go home together. Food, laughter and joints circled the room and their eyes came back to each other. A slight smile was beginning to shape their lips. It was going to be a good night.
His place. Her car. Six kilometres away.
He crushed pods of cardamom in a mortar made of some alloy to brew the tea. Crickets and frogs chirruped together, sounding the beginning to their restive night.
‘Canada, then?’ he asked, looking over the bubbling saucepan.
‘Yes, you heard?’ she smiled broadly from the countertop where she was seated, ‘Next month, for a Masters in Science.’
‘Yea, somebody pointed to you and said, that girl there is shipping off to Canada,’ he smiled, ‘Plan to come back?’
She shook her head, ‘Unlikely. It is going to be a permanent thing. Do you intend to ship off at some point?’ she picked a few soya stick fritters from the jar he handed her.
‘Hmm…’ he crinkled his forehead, ‘haven’t thought of it. But if at all, maybe I’d prefer Sweden or Germany, you know, low population, more innovation.’ A spicy fragrance wafted up from the tea.
They stepped to the balcony and the steam rose up from their cups throwing fragrance into the air above. Highway truckers pierced the night with their musical horns. Sleeping birds, confused, cackled.
‘That's Venus, right?’ she asked. The unit of light shone the brightest in the indigo sky. Smudged light from the neighbouring stars glistened.
‘Yes,’ he sipped, looking up.
‘I remember chasing Venus with a few friends one drunken night,’ she set down her cup on the sill, and clapped her hands on her hips. Eyes luminous in the twinkling night, she laughed, ‘for absolutely no apparent reason. The alcohol wore off and we stopped driving, and by that time, the planet was just a blur.’
‘Well, I know of eclipses being chased,’ he said with a laugh.
‘I can’t recall what got into us. We spoke about aliens and ghosts and somehow agreed we had to find out,’ she shrugged, smiling still.
‘All Summer in a Day?,’ he asked, eyeing her, horizontal ridges forming on his forehead.
That was her favourite Ray Bradbury story, set in a classroom of nine-year-olds. A Venus held captive by escaped Earthlings and the Earthlings brought to their knees by an aggressive and sterile Venus. To what end though, she had always pondered.
He trailed behind her to the living room. They drew closer on the settee, their empty cups on the coffee table. The calm night quivered with the arthropods’ mating calls.
Cracking his knuckles, he leaned back with a deep breath. 'About three years ago, a few of us amateur trekkers decided to hike up to this picturesque hill-side village in the northern part of the Ghats. It was not a steep climb but a long one. We had seen pictures of the trail leading up to a flat surface. Venus was still bright when we started that morning. The village has this longish British-era railway tunnel, and had been something of a summer retreat in those times. Food and rest had been arranged for us in the village, and we were to commence our descent by mid-noon. One experienced trekker led our expedition of five. Since it had rained the previous night, the path was muddy, but the grass was dry and prickly like hay.’ He sipped from his empty cup, absently.
‘The fog was unusually thick that morning and everything appeared bushier and smoky. Since visibility was dismal, we were sticking close. My foot stuck inches deep in the soggy mud several times. There were no other trekkers. We decided it was too early. ‘After a somewhat arduous hike, we reached flat land. But the fog was so thick that we couldn’t tell if there was a village in that expanse. Lights from our torches dispersed in the haze.
‘My eyes were burning. In the distance, there appeared to be a cluster of elongated boulders. Gingerly, the group proceeded towards it. None of the travelogues had mentioned this. Judging by the dimensions, it looked like a cave, with the structure resembling the top half of a crouched man – a parallel surface like a shoulder, and upon it helmed a large spherical boulder, akin to a facial structure. We heard a loud muffled cry. Like a crackling call of a high-pitched bird, it stopped and started a few times.
‘We scattered to look for an opening, but it was difficult. Maybe this was just an enormous boulder and not a cave, someone offered. We decided to explore for a few more minutes before setting off to look for the village. The torch light dispersed into a deep abyss, and just like that, we found ourselves at the mouth of the cave. The entrance was remarkably wide and chiselled and would have been unmissable on a clear day. Dry grass gave way to clustered rocks beneath. We formed a line to tread ahead in the narrow space. The torchlight reflected on our faces in the darkness. Bats flew overhead and I slipped, yet again, on a faint glisten of parallel metallic lines and that’s when it hit me. This was the famed British era railway tunnel, and not a cave! We were at our destination –. It was no wonder the roof was high and sculpted. But how was it that we did not encounter the village? Clearly, this was the other end of the tunnel. We concluded it was best to start over, since it was still quite early. Crouching once again, I redid my boots and rejigged my equipment, as did the others.
‘The muffled hoot sounded again, this time louder. “The train!” someone screamed. Before I could hear the roar of the engines, the headlights shone clearly in the darkness of the cave. It was too late, I couldn’t move. The rucksacks were strewn on the tracks. The train would crush us and even our remains would be lost in this dark tunnel. I looked at the others on the opposite wall, stuck like wallpaper, with horror on their faces. The metal tracks reflected the gleam of the lights – the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes shut and wound my arms tightly over my head was my rucksack. The engine’s rustic clatter went around the tunnel ... A jet of lightning, sparks, stabs, flashes and my loud thumping heart. It was deafening. I could only hear a distant beep and nothing else. I was sure my eardrums had burst. I couldn’t even scream. After what seemed like a lifetime, I opened my eyes. Rucksacks and equipment were reduced to debris floating in the thick fog. Someone guided me outside by my shoulders. I was covered in soot, ash and sweat, as were the others. My body was violently shaking. Here we were, our belongings destroyed, with just torches and two network-less phones between us. Alive.’
He leaned forward thoughtfully, looking at the empty cup, gripped between his arms.
‘More tea?’ he gave her a glance and got up.
‘What, no, wait, what happened after that?’ she got up too. ‘Refill, madam, is what I need.’ Her arms were spread but he dodged and went ahead, guffawing. She filed behind him.
‘Come on, you are not going to leave it at that,’ she pleaded, ‘tell me what happened, did you get to the village? How did you trek back, with everything gone!’ she cornered him at the sink, arms flapping. He sighed and laughed.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you. But what do I get in return?,’ he looked at her squarely.
‘Well, I can recite poems by your favourite poet or tell you all about the Neanderthals or something.’ She folded her hands across her chest, and let him pass.
He rolled his eyes. ‘No, something more stimulating. How about you reveal to me a defining incident from your life first, and then I’ll complete my story’. The teapot let out a comfortable sizzle from the stove.
They went to the balcony. A soft wind was blowing now. The noisy truckers were long gone. Only the crickets remained, hoping for a final salvage. Venus had moved in wait. Cuppas refreshed, they sipped.
‘Go on then,’ he prompted. She took a deep breath. He grinned. ‘Okay, if this is what it takes, I’ll tell you,’ she arranged herself cross-legged on the floor of the balcony.
‘A couple of years back, I had a flatmate. She had this boyfriend for some time. It did not seem like things were going too well for them, but they seemed too chicken to call it quits. She graduated to another guy from her office and both the boyfriends started to frequent our house. Events were arranged meticulously, so that if one wanted to laze around after breakfast on a weekend, the other would be avoided that weekend. Our rooms were separate and I didn’t mind all the hullaballoo with the boyfriends. In fact, I may have derived a secret pleasure partaking in this scheme of hers.
‘One night, after an outing with friends, I got home late. The electricity was out, and having scrambled up six flights of stairs inebriated, I could only think of hitting the bed. I unlocked the door to our flat and almost at once, my foot got entwined in something in the dark hall; I stumbled and fell face down. A limp figure was prostrate on the floor. I had tripped over its leg and fallen over. Fearing the worst, I felt the unmoving form. The body appeared to be that of a man’s. The relief was short-lived when it hit me that this could be one of the boyfriends. Had there been a confrontation?
‘A torch shone in my face from down the hall, and I heard my flatmate call out. She rushed to help me up. Before I could demand details, she stated in her deadpan tone that she had hit this chap in self-defence with the heavy-bottomed wooden platter which we placed on the tv unit for keys and titbits. Which one was this, I asked, number one or two? She exhaled pointedly, this is a guy I have been chatting with online.‘
Stumped, I forgot to inquire if she was okay. A third guy she was seeing? He had come to town to surprise her and they had met nearby, she said. Later, they had come upstairs, and he happened to discover the unattended phone and the others. ‘He called me names,’ she muttered, ‘struck my face.’ Okay, okay, I breathed, ‘Is there blood?’ The figure was breathing, that much I had discerned. Her blow had been the aimed at the back of his head, and it had knocked him out cold.’
She sipped the tea slowly, now lukewarm. He was staring at her, mouth agape. His cup was hardly consumed.
‘The lights came on. I could see faint light glinting off the crushed crystal mass of what had been decorative stones I had collected on the wooden platter. Papers and cushions were scattered all over and the platter itself was lying at the far end of the hall. It had been twenty minutes since she had hit him, she offered, there was no blood.
I looked at her properly then. She was still in her going-out clothes, her make-up was a blur, just like her evening must have been, I surmised. Her hair was neatly tied in a bun though, as always. There was a long maroon gash on her cheek. Welts were beginning to form around the injury.
I suggested we revive him, but she was hesitant. After some deliberation, we decided to secure him to the sofa leg, with our clothes-line cords and bedsheets. She worked his hands, and I, the legs. Then we dragged him to a sitting position near the sofa. Once his waist was fastened to the sofa leg, I splashed water on his face. His lips must have met the ground when he fell, for a deep cut had clotted. I examined the part of his scalp where she had hit him. This sombre-looking chap had a thick mass of dark hair. I supressed a retch – the ruptured bump had congealed blood, and an ugly mass of hair, epidermis and coloured fluids crowded it. His leather jacket had collected some of the crystal mess. My flatmate procured some sugar and placed it between his lips. After a while of slapping, grunting and more water, he revived. Startled, he tried to flail his locked arms. A look of pure confusion and terror crossed his face. She spoke, he listened, they cried. His face was a range of expressions. I concentrated on the line of ants invading the crushed crystallised stones and dispelled sugar. When things were quieter, she fetched him some water, cleaned and fixed his wound and un-tied him. She saw him off downstairs. It was almost daybreak. I was left standing in the hall, now bright and deafening. The ants seemed to have segregated the sugar from the crystal dust and were returning to their queen.
‘I tiptoed to my room as I heard the elevator doors open. I couldn’t bring myself to face her in the luminous hall, not just yet.
‘By the time I was up the next day, boyfriend number two was cursing at the game on the tv. The crushed crystals and their remnants had gone. The wooden platter was atop the tv unit, with our keys in it. She came humming in from the kitchen, with plates of fresh food. We smiled at each other. How radiant she looked; barely a bruise lining the cheek.’
Story told, she flexed her arms behind her back. His lips were slightly parted, and he didn’t blink.
‘Now your turn,’ her tone transformed to smug. He recovered after a pause, ‘That’s not the deal. You have tell me how this thing changed you.’
She shook her head, and with her thumb and index finger, made to zip her lips. ‘After you, Sir.’
‘But there’s more to the story, right?’
‘Yes, but only after you. That’s my deal.’
‘Okay, okay. Where was I, so my girlfriend who was on the trek broke up with me soon after…’
‘Hey, no. You came out of the cave, then what? Could you get to the village? Did someone come to your rescue?’ her free palm rotated to signal rewind.
‘Okay. Yes, we came out of the cave. Soot-covered, barely upright. My clothes had torn at some point and there were bruises across my arms and chest but I could feel no pain. The fog had substantially cleared. The sun would appear at any moment. I heard a choking sound. It was my girlfriend. She was bent over, her hair had come loose. She turned her convulsed face towards me and was ... giggling. The others surrounded her. She collapsed to the ground and her laughter seemed to echo through the flatland. I wiped the trail of tears from her face. We were all shaking, and soon, shouting. The mist had cleared and I was ravenous and groggy. At the far end of the tunnel, the village was now visible. But all of us just sat there, laughing and weeping for a long time.
‘We managed to get back to base. That was a moment of bare truth in that dark tunnel – we had witnessed our bags ravaged, our souls threatened, with only blinding lights for company. To be honest though, I have never felt more alive.’
They were quiet. The crickets had stopped their music. Venus shifted again. It was a long time before she spoke.
‘I wasn't thinking ill of my flat-mate. If anything, I was amazed. She had tested the waters.
This one time, when she was out, I took the liberty to look around her room. Below the bed, there was a nondescript shoe box. In it were vertically folded loose A4-size sheets. On each, a separate male name was inked. This was the boyfriend list. Under each name, she had bulleted timelines and underneath it, personality traits. It was all very organised and scientific. There were remarks such as ‘no temper lost’, ‘adjustment issues’, ‘past no big deal’, ‘comfort to be with’, ‘puts pressure’, ‘interest to flirt with others continues’, ‘propels to explore more hobbies/interests’, ‘interest only bodily’, and so on.
‘It is only after the incident with the online guy, I realised the logic of the methodology she had adopted. While I can’t say I have taken a leaf out of her book on dating, I am much more objective now. Game-changer or not, time will tell. But my heartbreaks haven’t been as brutal. Her list was well-reasoned and she went about the dating game like a professional.
‘Her job took her to a different city, she’s living with another guy altogether. I don’t know if she maintains the list still. We text sometimes. To this day, I am fascinated. She most likely settled for the guy who brought out the best in her. And that is how it should be. It just makes so much sense…’
Venus was now a diamond in the twilight. Soon, birds would break into fights over their early worm. ‘The Earthlings on Venus, in Bradbury’s story, I have often wondered if they were truly prepared for the hostile Venus or was it just an escape,’ she said.
‘Sometimes, theories may be more promising than the real thing,’ he responded.
They continued gazing at the faint Venus.
It was daybreak. She left, it was Monday. Venus had faded into its ephemeral oblivion.
*
Bidisha Satpathy is a corporate lawyer based in Mumbai. Although a compulsive and curious reader, she is currently attempting to read less and write more. She has published with The Hindu, Juggernaut, Huffington Post India, Hindustan Times etc.