SUNDAY SHORT STORY

New Delhi, 1 September 2009

LOVE IN TIMES OF GLOBAL WARMING

By Nelofar Currimboy

‘Dear Mum n Papa,

Since it’s clear that you are never going to let us marry, Saif and I have decided to end our lives together by drowning at Surajkund, Haryana. Please don’t try to find us. Love Nisha.’

After sealing the envelop, Nisha tiptoed to the living room and left it in a prominent place. Before walking out she stopped to check her make-up before the mirror. After all, the media would swoop down to cover the tragedy, and her face would be in every city paper. Dead or alive, she would hate to be seen looking any less than smashing.

She heard Saif revving up the engine of his Harley Davidson mobike and jumped onto the pillion seat, her long hair flying with the wind dramatically. “Nisha darling,” said Saif apologetically “you are choking my lungs. Can you loosen your grip please”? “How rude of you. Do you know what I feel at this moment, besides we will both be dead in a few minutes and you are worried about your lungs”, shot back Nisha. “Okay girl but I need to breath to ride this bike, so why don’t I sit behind and choke you and you try doing this.”

Nisha was looking upset but what’s a little tiff between lovers, she thought with a smile. The bike took the steep incline to the ancient Surajkund water reservoir and slowed down on the rugged steps. Holding hands they walked down the jagged steps. “I am keeping my eyes closed Saif,” whispered Nisha. “I want you to lead me till we are at the edge of the water.” Her feet were searching out every step while Saif was staring down. “Nisha", he screamed. “What”, she said opening her eyes. “There is no water at all.” They looked down at a pit of hot earth. “Oh no”! Now how do we drown,” she asked.     

“Well dear this was all your idea,” replied Saif. “Mine?” “Didn’t you say you wanted to die in a place that was rich in history,” he added. Nisha started sobbing. “I can’t go home and tell my parents that we’ve postponed our plans for tomorrow.” “Don’t worry baby, just trust me, and get on the bike.” Nisha climbed on meekly. “Where are we going now,” she asked. “About half an hour down this road is Badkal Lake, remember.” “Oh yes I do, that’s even better than Surajkund, that’s the place we went boating on our second date,” said Nisha excitedly. “You got it girl,” replied Saif.

But he hadn’t bargained for the long winding road with its steep inclines and dips, and that Nisha was prone to bouts of motion sickness. When he first heard a gurgling sound he thought it was his Harley Davidson protesting about the desi road, till he felt something wet on his shoulder and a huge glass of curdled milk dripped down the front of his shirt. “What’s this", he screamed stopping the bike on the muddy edge of a cliff.  "I am sick, can't you see .I wanted to die not be tortured before dying". "Trust me", said Saif trying to pacify Nisha. "Trust you, did you say trust you, you can’t find a drop of water for us to drown in, in this whole country and I should trust you,” she angrily replied.

He pulled off her Louis Vuitton scarf and wiped her face and clothes, then he took off his shirt and threw it to the side with the scarf. “Do you know what you just did?” “What,” said a confused Saif. “You just threw away my LV scarf. It cost me Rs 20,000 and besides it’s sacred.” “Come on girl stop getting hysterical, it would have sunk in the water in any case.” “Saif you don’t understand, that was a sacred way for it to go, that's how it deserved to go. It’s an LV.” “Get on,” said an irritated Saif cutting her LV commiserations short.

The last lap of the ride to Badkal Lake was in complete silence and as the mobike reached the edge of the bandh wall there was a heavy air between the two. The checkpost policeman let them pass as a romancing couple. ‘Can I have my last diet coke, Saif?” “Sure, and I will have my last Marlborough light,” he replied. They sat on the steps leading up to the reservoir and for a moment it seemed the plan was back in place and so was the mood. “Okay now girl are you ready?” “I am”, she whispered with a dramatic tone to her voice. “Then hold my hand tight as we go up the steps.” “I want to shut my eyes and chant,” said Nisha. She could hear him chanting the name of his God too, and she knew this was the perfect end to their love story.

"Nisha open your eyes,” he screamed pointing to the cracked dry and muddy expanse where once there was a water bed. “Oh my God,” she shouted, “what are you doing to my life, I mean my death. Is this some kind of a prank?” “No Nisha, no trust me, I had no idea that Badkal Lake was a dry pit now. I mean who would ever imagine.” Saif’s mind was racing for options. His shirtless chest freezing in the morning chill didn’t help matters either.

“I know just the place,” he remarked. “Sorry, this time I need to know the plan,” Nisha retorted. “Just 20 minutes down this road is the Dhauj Lake, remember in the tenth class we had gone on this trek in the Aravali Hills and sat on a beautiful river bed,” mumbled Saif tripping over his words. “Okay, scream”, said Nisha looking clearly exhausted. The ride to Dhauj was bumpy and the pit holes that appeared every few seconds left the Harley Davidson groaning. Finally they reached the Aravali Hills. Climbing up the two hundred steps holding hands, the lovers felt suitably tortured by the world.

“It was every bit worth it. This is the most amazing place to depart the world from,” said Nisha. She had barely finished her sentence when the sight of baked earth stung her eyes. “You idiot,” she screamed at Saif. “Look at that.” Saif looked down in horror at the dry arid waterbed with stray shrubs growing. “There,” he pointed out at what seemed like a mirage, ‘there seems to be some water there.” “It’s a puddle, it won’t even drown my heels,” yelled Nisha. “Look Nisha this is not my fault.” “Oh yes it is, you are the man, you are the one who takes care of everything,” she angrily asserted. “I had suggested the Yamuna, but you wanted a place with some history,” argued Saif bounding down the steps with Nisha following, her stilettos in her hands and tears of frustration rolling down her face.

A bunch of village boys welcomed them with claps, and then one of them took out a sling and hit the front tire of the Harley Davidson with a sharp stone. “You rascal, I’ll get you,” said Saif darting towards the kids. Almost on cue, a mule cart appeared. “You want a ride,” asked the man pulling the animal to a side. “Your fancy bike won’t get you anywhere now.” Saif looked on in frustration even as Nisha's voice had become a cacophonic sound of anger by now. A few boys were loading his bike on the cart. “Where to,” asked one of them. “‘Drop us to a petrol pump on the main road,” said Saif avoiding thinking of his next move.

Holding the Harley Davidson the two defeated lovers sat in the mule cart --- on a journey they could never have imagined. It was dusk by now and the sun was setting. Suddenly, the headlights of a Mercedes were shining in their eyes and waiving at the cart to stop. Out jumped Nisha’s parents, grandmother and sister. “Nisha darling, thank God,” they said hugging her. “We will be more than happy if you marry Saif,” they chorused. “What marry this nincompoop! Never,” replied Nisha. As her completely confused parents stared at her, a shirtless Saif looked on. ---- INFA

(The writer runs a cosmetics firm, is a poet and has written a book on her mother Shahnaz Husain. She has created marquee products like Shahnaz Herbal's Gold Gel, Pearl and Flower range.) 

(Copyright India News & Feature Alliance)