Sunday, May 30

Speak Softly, Love.

"Speak softly love
And hold me warm 
against your heart.
I feel your words
The tender
Trembling moments start.
We're a world our very own"

This piece played in the background with Michael Corleone portrayed by Al Pacino kissing a bare bosomed Appolonia Vitelli on her already wet lips, courtesy the champagne.

On the other side of the screen, Krishna was awed by the Intensity of the scene. He was a keen watcher of western cinema and this was a bit unusual because not many people watched English films back then. And unlike Krishna, not many students of the Accounting and Finance Department bunked classes to watch 'The Godfather' at the theater.


::Circa 1973. The Eastman Color had arrived in the country and in Cuttack, movies had started playing at 'Sangam', the first motion picture theater of the millennium city. 


Krishna felt an urge to kiss. Not surprisingly, he did the same. The shyness on Dilnaaz's face was the light of his life. The shy smile of hers now turned him on. Even the location was perfect. Very less of the public used to watch English pictures back then. They had the corner seats. Bliss. Another Kiss, a prolonged one. Nothing more.


After the cinema, they hit the Library at the their college. Ravenshaw. It was here where they had first met. She was two years his senior. Still, sparks flew off from day when she complimented Krishna on his Goldie Locks and the Bell-bottom trousers. He took extra care of them from then on.

With the last days of college closing in and most of their friends getting married and settled, they very well knew they were next. They very well knew of what was in store. They wanted to put this off in a better way, on a sweeter note.

Dilnaaz Dastur was from a Anglo- Parsi family who sticked to their ethos and values very much and mostly kept to themselves, socially. Now, it was not really good an idea for Joseph Dastur to marry off his daughter to a Oriya Doctor's son (read:Krishna) though he had the knowledge that they were seeing each other. He already was in talks with the Wadia's from Bombay and was seriously considering Abid, the Wadia scion as his future son-in-law.

Now, as they rode on the banks of Mahanadi on his AJS motorcycle with the sun setting in the background, Krishna reminded himself that it was getting late and he had to drop her home. As they entered her lane, they saw a Black Ford 888-T with a 'Presidency of Bombay' licence-plate.

Dilnaaz -" Its Abid. He was expected to arrive two weeks later. Trains were cancelled due to the Famine in the Deccan. Lord, he drove all the way."

Krishna -" He had to come anyways. Sooner or later. Dilnaaz, Promise me one thing. Just one thing. That, never in your life would you regret this decision. Should you do the same, just remind yourself of our promise , to end this on a sweeter note."

Tears had already started rolling down Dilnaaz's cheeks. Among the two, she was less mature to handle a situation like this. Krishna said nothing and kick-started his motor-cycle.

"Bye darling. I love You. Don't change much.", Those were Krishna's parting lines.

________________________


"Speak softly love
And hold me warm 
against your heart.
I feel your words
The tender
Trembling moments start.
We're a world our very own"

This piece played in the background with Michael Corleone portrayed by Al Pacino kissing a bare bosomed Appolonia Vitelli on her already wet lips, courtesy the champagne.

On the other side of the screen, Krishna closed his eyes. He needed a smoke he thought. He had picked  up this smoking habit in his late fifties when he used to hit 'Marty's' for a round of Poker. At 62, smoking was a bad option. That was what his son and his students kept pestering him about. He checked his cellular. Six New Messages. He ignored them. must be from the students.


::Circa 2010. Krishna was in the living room of his son's apartment in Chicago. The above thoughts flash-backed in his mind. For he, his son and his Mexican Daughter-in-law were watching 'The Godfather' on a mundane Sunday after lunch.
He went out to the terrace and lighted a Malboro. The Chicago skyline across Lake Michigan looked Gorgeous, he thought. The chill of the wind forced him to put on the Harris Tweed jacket he had in hand. He then closed his eyes for a moment.

One single drop of tear rolled down his cheek. It was the first time since his wife lost out to cancer.

A drop of regret.

2 comments:

Ranvir said...

lovely write. was a delight to read it. :)

Sampad Acharya said...

Thanks v much Ranvir.

Keep coming back. :)