The kitchen like the rest of the house had an overwhelming hue of white. Reesha bent over the lemongrass that grew on the window ledge, clipping a few leaves. She closed her eyes for a brief moment to take in the scent of the herbs, and smiled as the wind blew a few strands of her red hair loose. Reesha straightened up and carried the lemongrass to the pale wood counter standing in the middle of the kitchen, that usually served as a workstation and on a seldom occasion was dressed to resemble a dining table. The teapot was already bellowing steam through its spout. Reesha let the lemongrass drop in, following it up with 2 spoons of tea leaves. Then she let it stand, as she turned to fetch the mugs from the crockery cupboard.
In the reflection of the cupboard mirror Reesha saw a woman of average built, dressed in cotton trousers and a white tee. She didn’t yet have the experienced look of someone in her late prime, nor did she look naive enough to be in her early youth; she was possibly approaching her thirtieth birthday soon. She wasn’t totally unattractive, infact her porcelain skin and hazel eyes were totally capable of attracting the target they chose. Reesha drew her attention back to the mugs and stepped away from her image in the mirror.
Holding the mugs in her hand, Reesha started towards the verandah to join Jay. Through the steam rising from the mugs she could see a figure reclining in a cane arm chair. Suddenly conscious of someone behind him, the figure peeped over the side of the recliner. With his head tilted at such an angle, his silver streaked hair fell over his glasses. He carelessly pushed back the errant locks, and tumbled out of his cosy cote to help Reesha with the mugs. For someone soon joining the rank of Senior Citizens, Jay had kept himself in very good shape. The white shirt with the rolled sleeves and the blue denims fell loosely over his lean frame.
They sat by each other sipping tea, breathing in the aroma of the lemongrass, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon, and simply being a part of each other’s moment.
Quite an unusual pair they made – Jay, the scholarly historian, and Reesha, the primary school teacher. It was difficult to believe that they had just known each other for the past 10 months, it seemed a lifetime of an acquaintance.
Reesha religiously followed Jay’s weekly column in the local newspaper. Jay had a way with words – he wrote his opinions on different historic events, and yet always threaded them with his current life – his need for silent escapes, his random walks in the rain and his search for completion. When Reesha had mailed her first appreciation email to him, both of them were in total oblivion about what followed 26 email exchanges, and some unplanned meetings that seemed to bring them face to face.
“You’re not in love with him, you’re just in awe,” Reesha’s best friend and colleague, Doyal, had admonished her when she once hesitantly voiced her feelings.
Did she admire him? Did she love him? She wasn’t sure. And actually, she never thought that her feelings needed a name – the societal approval of a relationship status – she was fulfilled enough just experiencing the surge of emotions he awakened in her.
Jay as a writer travelled a lot, and Reesha was quite a coop hen. And the overwhelming bone of contention was the 25 year age gap that existed between the two of them. Didn’t they see it? Didn’t they feel the generation gap divide?
”What do you’ll talk about?” Doyal had once asked. And Reesha had then realised that they never really “talked” – none of the routine work and family talks, neither about the price of vegetables rising, or the weather changing. They actually spoke in silence. Just taking in the presence of the moment and knowing that the silence that existed then was shared by just the two of them. It was their intimate moment.
The gossip-mongers usually murmured, “Oh, they are just sleeping around.” And Reesha would chuckle to herself. How would they know that their connection was not limited to physical needs. They would sit on the balcony holding hands or sometimes welcome each other with a long warm hug, but without any sexual yearnings. There was never the need to explain the existence of the other to their respective social circles, and yet between the two of them the circle that mattered the most was complete.
But the murmurs were always there. People knew, though not necessarily understood the depth of this different affair – a scandal nevertheless.
Among Reesha’s wellwishers were those who thought that spinsterhood had frustrated her to such bounds. They tried to patch her up with distant cousins, and so-called acquaintances, like they said “to make her see normal”.
Jay’s family reacted typically to the news when he tried to explain, though he did add that he really couldnt express their relationship or the want of it in words – his wife broke into hystericals, his kids were shocked. Expected, considering Reesha was 29, he 55.
Why did they find each other? Neither of them had any specific need. Reesha’s mind was atuned to the solace that her loneliness brought her, and he was a vagabond in a world of his own. They never searched, just seemed to find each other like a wanderer does a piece of rare pebble that he doesn’t need, but still treasures.
The hour chime of the clock snapped her out of her flashback. Jay stumbled out of the recliner, and straightened up with an exaggerated delay. It was time.
From the window ledge on which the lemongrass grew, Reesha waved adieu to the homeward bound figure in the white shirt and blue denims.
From → The Writer's Desk
