The doorbell rang… It was a pleasant morning and the morning breeze came up with the loveliest surprise… my half eye was closed and then I jumped with my both eyes wide open now… Prasoon was standing there.. with a plate in his hand.. a handkerchief covering the something which he had in the plate… An average height guy.. not a kid.. not a man… but a gift to me… the sweetest good morning gift…

He was slightly shy… a bit happy and more in hurry to leave the plate… did he feel my excitement! Did he know how surprising this gift was for me! Did he know I could die to live in that moment of getting his breath closest to my hair! Did he really get to understand my infinite living moments in those a few seconds…

Does he still know it all?

He was here… yes; he was in front of my vision… I was his vision… and in those seconds I let out all my jealously to pour in all others with the jealousy of my possession of the momentary gift…

He smiled a bit and gave a signal to call some elder person in the home. I didn’t move…

He said, “Hello.. How are you?”

“I am fine…”

“Can you call your papa or someone…”

“Ok… wait a while… errr… what should I say to them… who is at the door? Leave it… mummmmaaaaaaa… see, someone is here…” I did want to start a conversation, but I couldn’t… Being a kid again… I wished I was smarter… I wished I could show my purpose.

I don’t know whether there was some secret jinn or something who stopped me or just that I wanted to stay there… From his side, there was no glue… there was no charm… there was no holding… there was no possession… there was no connection as of now… the space between two of us was filled with air which was not carrying any word now… still the last words he had said were giving the presence of a musical composition… may be I just wanted to listen him for long now… May be I would soon…

The wish was completed… but, I was so lost that I couldn’t thank God for it… I wish I should have, the first day itself…

Mummi came, at the same instant asked me to leave… I couldn’t know whether I was stuck at this hands or to the plate… I kept gazing as I was going from there… Mummi also returned in two mins; without saying anything she transferred the sweets and put new ones in the same plate and went back to him…

Now I know it’s a ritual to not to let the person go empty handed…

I never want him to go empty handed from me… I never want him to go from me…

I asked Mummi, “why was he here? Just to give sweets; what happened?”

“His brother has got admission in the best college of India… He was very happy.. It was all to share the biggest joy to the bigger family… To all of us… We feel blessed.. “

I picked a sweet and went away… I saw him again..

Those innocent eyes… That smile… The purpose and him… The Inseparables…

I opened my books and started doing my homework… after 10 mins, I got stuck again: “what did mummi say? Best college!!! What is the best college? Why is he going there? Is he going to study something about; I don’t know what… May be papa would satisfy my answers… Do they study like me over there… Does Prasoon study like me? Does he study? Does he also add-subtract-multiply-mug up like us?”

I was swaying swooping in imagination of his open books, pen in his mouth thinking over something, the box-the Tiffin, and the innocent eyes… the smile and the purpose… everything on the books.. Everything for the best of the books…

Prasoon was standing there… neither close to my presence, nor far from my vision… I felt the real pain when I was not even his vision… my heart felt jealousy to all those who were in his attention… May be this was the day when I first wanted my presence to obstruct his attention to anyone else. I wanted me to be in his complete territory… to surround him with my arms… to involve him with my words… to let me know what’s there in him that makes me melt… that makes me feel awe… that makes me feel lost of my own belongingness of self.

He was ending his teenage life and I was about to begin this journey soon… I was so excited to explore myself; was excited more to know what he has explored in these years of identity crisis. Standing at his rooftop he looked like a flow of maturity. His acceptance on his own self was in the stretching of his arms. He carried himself so beautifully as if he knew the movement of even the toenail of his body. His hands were like giant wings, lifting his weight, ready to pump him up to the glories of successes. He wanted to fly, he wanted to swing in his passions, he wanted to explore the unattained heights and then touch the beauty of the ground… His eyes had twinkling, saying about the dreams which were bigger than his shoulders, deeper than his courage and more adventurous than his own dreams. There was a sense of controlled flight. I wanted to be a part of that.

I first time noticed him, staring at me with those innocent eyes, giving a look of ‘hi…’ I just smiled. I tried to become more girlish… I tried to hide that as well. I was too young to mix the two controversial emotions and giggled at my full flow. He was still staring and smiling. Though I could have said him as my brother that time but it was just destined for the best of both of us that this brotherly feeling never found any place in my heart. Destiny had something else in her mind; though I didn’t know the word ‘destiny’ as well then…

I watched him daily; going somewhere; passing through our lane. He never wandered aimlessly like most of the other teenagers did. He always seemed with a purpose; of doing something. It never bothered me… When I was coming from the school in the afternoon or when I was playing my kid games, I saw him. He always seemed me a person with whom I would be in future; with whom I would be enjoying the coming days. I would talk to him for my kiddish things, girlish games and he would listen me endlessly keeping those two innocent eyes every time on me with the eternal smile..

But I never remembered him after he was not there. I still was a kid…

The remote doesn’t stop at one channel. She has been trying to divert her mind, but whatever had happened in the morning was troubling her. Though getting hit by her husband was a ritual of the day, tradition of the night; still, the blood oozing out from the deep cut on her right cheek hurts, at least physically. Her heart was not trembling; it was not scared. These are those emotions which she had made subdued a long unknown. May be she didn’t care anymore. But, only for her, she is good; a good mother she is; at least in those cute little eyes. She is or she is not; she doesn’t care about that also. There is only one person in the world, whom she loves, deep down her heart. That’s what people think , or may be most of the times she also makes her feel the same. Umm, no, but there are two.

And, with this thought she realized that her heart still pumps blood. She still has sensations. She doesn’t have idle limbs, she doesn’t have the lethargic brain, she doesn’t just have tattering legs, and she does have feelings. She feels for those lost emotions that transformed her. She recalls those untouched touches which made her a lady.

The tickling of high heart beats gave her life and she again accepted that she still loves someone. He is someone, whom she doesn’t care like a kid, but like a partner; with whom she could herself like to be a little doll who enjoys pampering; who loved her for what she was, not for what her beauty prevails; who accepted her in the way she wanted her to be accepted. She felt the passion again which is far beyond the daily care of her husband’s tantrums; her affection for ‘ankoo’ her daughter; her sobbing of daily monotonous constant grief; the compassion for the uselessness of her own existence; her own senselessness of lost sensibility. It was a sense of fullness, and acceptance of surrender, a unique way of losing the possession of her ‘self’.

Pankhuri was no longer a teenager, nor even a young look-a-like woman. Her heart is still very young with adventure, love and passion.

It was then, she got stuck. It wasn’t her imagination, it was surreal. The picture was seen on every channel, of an accident. The victim was a big businessman, a renowned celebrity, Prasoon. And again, she felt all those sensations. She felt to cry of fear; for the fear of losing someone whom she had already lost but had the hope to see some time in the future; as they lived in the same planet. They were, Prasoon-Pankhuri or Pankhuri-Prasoon.