Setting The Stage
It isn’t always easy to shoot little children, thought Jennifer as she took off the sling camera hanging around her neck. But then, once the photo session is done and the picture finally appears on film, it is a real pleasure!
Having had enough of her shooting little children with her creative weapon, the camera, Jennifer had called it a day. She was back in her very own nest where she could relax and be just herself. Not that she wasn’t like that outside, but then, despite being her very own person, there were certain pretences that had to be kept up with, since she was part of a society that seemed to have no better work than probe, pry and push one into conforming….something that really disgusted her!
The cold water shower really soothed her tired and exhausted nerves. It was in the shower that she could rewind her thoughts and brush dark reflections away. For an outsider, the water dripping down her dusky body only seemed to make her more sensuous than she actually was. The tattoo on her right hand on the forearm also seemed to want to wash away a past that still lingered behind and lived in a corner of her heart. Just like the colors of her tattoo which could be scrubbed but not washed away, her thoughts flashbacked into time where the fragrance of a past was still fresh and just refused to fade away.
Getting into her comfortable long white tees, Jennifer lazed around and had her dinner of salad, fried fish and a glass of wine. Fish was something she just could not do without; it reminded her of her grandmother’s cooking. With some wine still lingering behind in the glass she carried it to the bedroom and sat down on the bed with her laptop. Of late, she had been surfing blogs. It seemed a nice past time, reading the inner thoughts of strangers. As she surfed along from blog to blog, she suddenly came across a blog titled, Cyrus(Serious) Thoughts. Let me have a look, she thought. The design template seemed less ornamental and flashy like the innumerable others that she had read so far.
Before Jennifer could realize it, the wine in her glass was long forgotten and she was reading post after post of the writer Cyrus. It was well past midnight and she was still plunging into the archives of Cyrus (Serious) Thoughts. What is it that is making me want to read more and more of Cyrus’ writings, she wondered. And then, presto! It struck her why she had been so absorbed reading the innumerable blog posts of Cyrus. He reminded her of Shekhar! His writings reflected the style of Shekhar and his thoughts. A link to her past that she so desperately wanted to forget. Memories that only brought her hurt and regret, pleasure and pain.
It was 5.30am in the morning in Mumbai and Shekhar was already up with his cup of coffee. He strolled around in the lawn, and soaked in the fresh feel of a day commencing. Those were the moments when his mind was strewn with the seeds of new ideas. By the time the coffee had warmed his throat and activated his grey cells he was back at his study table, ready to begin his day of creativity.
Tara was a late riser quite unlike her husband. Putting on the light green housecoat over her noodle strapped transparent night gown, she moved to the kitchen to get her cup of tea. While the tea brewed she opened the front door to get in the newspapers for the day. Like always, she and Shekhar preferred to read different newspapers. As she settled down with The Times of India and tea for company, she opened to Page 3 to know about the latest in social updates and then, it was back to media news related to marketing and advertising. Any other news appeared just too insignificant to her.
Roohi was the last to wake up in the household. The apple of her father’s eye, Roohi was the reason the house was filled with life. Roohi walked into the drawing room and wished her mother, “Good Morning Mamma.” Planting an affectionate kiss on her little head, Tara continued reading the newspaper even as she asked the maid to get Rooh
i ready for school.
Realizing that Mamma was busy Roohi walked into Shekhar’s study and put her little palms on Shekhar’s eyes, “Guess who is it?”
Aware of her touch, Shekhar’s fingers stopped beating an age old typewriter that despite the technological advancement in the world hadn’t turned into a laptop or desktop and he played along with her.
“Is it Mahima?”
“Is it Juhi?”
“Then, it surely must be Bacon”
“Oh Papa. How can it be Bacon? He has four paws. And these are two hands.” Saying this she jumped around, “It’s me Papa, Roohi. You lost again!”
“Oh beta. For you I will lose any number of times” saying which Shekhar placed Roohi on his table.
“So, is my pretty girl going to school today?”
“I don’t want to Papa but I have to.”
“That’s a good girl. Then hurry along. Get ready.”
Each one busy preparing for their own day, hoping that the day would bring happiness, success and contentment. But would it?