Broken Hug

Reverie

“Are you okay, Fai?”

She nodded.

They reached the guest house in an hour’s time. After speaking to the receptionist and taking the camera, they left for the condominium. There they gave the reference of the receptionist and the manager nodded and checked Rohan Mukherjee in his register where he had made entry after the receptionist had spoken to him. Fai spoke in Thai and confirmed the two weeks of stay. Rohan handed the BHT 5,000/- against which he got a receipt.

They went to the first floor. It was one room with a pair of couches and a coffee table in one corner. A study table complete with a chair stood next to the double size bed in the centre. The couch was pushed to the wall where stood a window. A door opened into the balcony.

From the cozy balcony, the main street and its view was a vista to their eyes.

Fai turned and held Rohan’s hand. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” He smiled and squeezed her hand. “This is so nice. I wish I can stay here for a year or so.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. But he noticed the drained colour of her cheeks and her furrowed eyebrows. She’s sad that I’ll be leaving in two week’s time. “Come on, let’s enjoy!” and he gently squeezed her shoulders.

*

They spent their days meeting each other, going for walks, going to Lumpini Park and feeding bread crumbs to the birds. They stopped at street food joints and ate Thai food. And when they got the urge they made love. It was at any part of the day. She brought her books with her to study. And when Rohan went for a short walk for thirty minutes or so, Fai went through her books.

The demonstrations had become quite serious. Some shopping malls were closed in the areas where demonstrations took place. Newspaper reported several deaths and ordinary people wounded.

*

Two days before his departure, was the festival of Loi Krathong. It was a festival where little boats are made, and candles are put inside them, and the floats floated in the ponds and canals. The festival is held to pray to the departed relatives of the people and also to wish for something.

Fai and her father and some of their relatives made floats. Some of Fai’s friends were present. Meesook brought along Rohan. He was introduced to Fai’s father. Songs could be heard in the air and elders as well as children floated their little boats.

Fai came up to Rohan with a little boat made from bamboo leaves. It had a sail, cute and tiny. She handed it to him.

“You have to light this candle and rest it inside and then float it into the water,” she said. “And as you float you have to wish for something.”

He couldn’t remove his eyes from her. She was dressed in a white sleeveless Thai silk dress till just above the knee. “What exactly does one wish for?”

“Anything,” she said. “Wish for your good life. For your success.” She smiled.

He walked with her to the edge of the pond at the far end of the lawn. The surface of the water was filled with lights as many floats moved, their lights glistening and making the pond come alive.

He bent down as she stood by his side, watching him. He held the float above the surface of the water for a while. Little float, you are not only mine, but also Fai’s. Please give us an everlasting love. Then bringing it down, he allowed its base to touch the water. No sooner did that happen than the float began to bob in the little ripples formed with the moving water. He stood up, smiling at Fai. He held her palm lightly, and both looked at the float going further away into the water to touch some distance ahead.

He turned and faced her. There was a question in her eyes, asking him What did you wish for?

He was about to say, and as if she understood that he wanted to say it, but knew that wishes are not to be said, she put her hand on his mouth. 

Then they went to a beauty contest, followed by parades, folk music performances and the gorgeous Sukhothai light and music show in Iconsiam Shopping Mall.

*

It was Saturday. Rohan looked at his packed luggage one last time. Before locking the door, he swept his eyes all over the room. He went down and handed the keys to the manager. He pointed to Rohan at the taxi waiting outside. He smiled as an attendant stepped up and opened the taxi door for him. The vehicle moved.

Rohan’s eyes fell at the shop selling scarves and knick-knacks. On the pavement, the woman was placing the bowls of cooked dishes on the table, while her husband was tightening the parasol. He recalled that Fai and he had made this food joint a regular affair. Sometimes when just taking a stroll, they would stop by here and the woman and her husband would rattle off with Fai in their language.

A sigh escaped from Rohan. He would miss all this. Staying for altogether three weeks, it seemed he had been here since several years, especially in the last two weeks. The city had become his second home. The sights and smells had entered his senses and settled there. Whatever he had seen and experienced, he associated them with Fai.

Fai. She was the most important event in his life, he recalled.

She had helped him with his packing yesterday, though he could have done it on his own. But she had insisted, and he had given in. And, he recalled, it was nice seeing her pottering about, tucking the gifts for family and friends at convenient places inside the bag. Taking out his clothes and folding them neatly the way a T-shirt is folded over a semi-thick cardboard. She had asked him which set he would wear tomorrow. She had kept that one in the cupboard.

“And did you keep your white shorts on top of all my clothes?” he had asked.

She had nodded. “Yes. The way your tee is kept on top of all my clothes in my cupboard,” and she smiled.

He was at the airport quite soon, and checking in and getting the immigration check done, he sat in the parlour. Fai had told him to call at his convenient time. He rang her, and very soon she picked the call.

“Hi sweetheart.”

“Sawasdee ka, Raw-han. You at the airport?”

“Yes, immigration done. Sitting at the parlour.” He paused. “And you?”

“I’m in my room, sitting on the beanbag and looking at the Shantiniketan handbag.”

“I can picture you clearly.” The microphone started then. “Honey, we are being called inside the aircraft. I will reach by 4:20 pm your time and call you as soon as I land.”

“Okay. Have a safe flight.” He could make out a slight quaver in her voice.

“Okay. Love you baby.”

“Love you too, Raw-han.”

*

During the flight, everything around him seemed to have taken a permanent grey colour. He found it hard to believe he was going further away from Bangkok. From Fai. There was a small monitor at the back of every seat. And now as Rohan kept his eyes glued to it on the back of the seat right in front of him, he could not but feel the grey colour of sadness gripping him more. The icon of the airplane was moving and pushing its way towards Calcutta and away from Bangkok.

*

Fai got up from the beanbag and opened the cupboard. Rohan’s white tee was there right on top of all her clothes. She needed it desperately. To hold it. To smell it. An image of herself as a child was appearing in her mind in a gentle slow motion. She ran her fingers with all gentleness over the fabric, her mind travelling to him. She picked it up and held it close to her, inhaling deeply its smell. Rohan’s smell lay in it. Keeping it back after a while, she returned to the beanbag. Very soon her eyes closed.

And it appeared once again. Fai and Sitthichai seated inside a temple as two children. A monk seated opposite them muttering words in his grave voice. His hand lifted and he blessed them. 

*

Fai is eighteen years old. On her way home from school she crosses the lonely stretch of the lane across. Someone appears all of a sudden from behind a tree and grabs her arm. Someone in police uniform. Face glossy with perspiration. And stale breath. Fai wrenches her arm. She struggles. She winces in pain. At last the man lets her go.

She jolts out of the nightmare.