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Nerivoor is a small town located at the crossroads where the extremities of four cities converge.
To the northeast is a city that is always too dusty. A city where everything is a shade of brown and the air is filled with a smell that can rust even the living.
To the northwest is a city that is always too cold. A city filled with flowers and parks, forever hidden in an eternal mist, preserved like the ever-present dew drops.
To the southeast is a city that is always too hot. A city where water is a luxury, but opulence is common. Cursed to forever watch the sea in hopes of better days.
To the southwest is a city that is always raining. A city that wakes up every day praying for an excuse to skip work. Blessed with the knowledge that human beings were made simply to exist.
Nerivoor, due to its location, was a little bit of everything. A quarter of every city. Three months of the year it would be too dusty. Three months it would be too cold. Before that, it would be raining for three months. And of course, extremely hot before that. Perfectly split into threes. Not a month more. Not a month less.
As for the people of Nerivoor, there wasn’t much to say about them. Even though there were a couple of houses in Nerivoor, not a lot of people lived there. And of the houses that were inhabited, not a lot of them had any visitors. If any, it would be the occasional visit of the ones who inhabited.
But one day, defying all the norms, a young man named Nikhil arrives at Nerivoor. Since it is a small town, the bus station isn’t any bigger than a regular roadside bus stop. There’s enough space to park five buses. If any more happened to stop there, they would be forced to block the road. From one such bus, Nikhil emerges, and with a deep breath, he takes in all of Nerivoor, all at once. The smell of the freshly baked butter biscuits. The sound of the tea glasses that marched to the beat of the master. The cold that rested at the tip of his nose. He looks around for his friend who is nowhere to be seen. This does not bother Nikhil at all. This just means he has a chance to get a taste of Nervioor’s tea.
Nikhil walks into the tea shop and sees the master still at it with the glasses. One after the other he makes them dance to his beat, as he prepares them for the tea. It starts with a little bit of hot water. Just to rinse. Out that goes, and just as quickly, without missing a beat, the glasses all line up for the main act. Fall after fall. The milk crashes into the black tea that awaits it at the bottom of every fall. From one steel mug to another, the milk falls. Fall after fall. Until it stops being milk and black tea. Before anyone realises what has happened, the master lifts the steel mug one last time. One by one, the lined-up glasses collect the falling tea. And just when you think the symphony has come to an end, the master adds that extra little bit—a drizzle of black tea across the froth that sits atop.
You could hear the applause if you listened closely. Rather than the cackle of two hands smacking into each other, it was the deep and satisfied sigh that followed every sip of the tea.
Nikhil smiled as he watched the master wipe the sweat from his brows. Softly, but with enough energy in his voice, he asked, “Master! Can I get one tea as well?”
“Call me Ravi, sir,” he said as he prepared to start his performance once again.
“Okay, master!” replied Nikhil. Ravi smiled at Nikhil, humbly acknowledging the praise.
Curious to know more about his fan, Ravi asks, “Are you here to meet someone?”
“I hope so.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” asks Ravi, surprised. “Do you not know what you’re here for?”
“I do master! I do! I’m here to visit a friend of mine.”
“And who would that be?”
Nikhil thinks about it for a second. Impatient, Ravi asks, “Do you not know your friend’s name?”
“No master. I know his name, but I just can’t remember it right now.”
“Are you sure he’s your friend, thambi?”
“Yes, master. He’s my only friend.”
“Then why is it that you don’t remember his name?”
“I don’t usually call him by his name, master. I call him by his nickname, Thadichi.”
“Oh! Vishal. You’re Vishal’s friend?”
Surprised, Nikhil asks, “How is it that you know him?”
“It’s a small town, thambi. There aren’t many people here, and even fewer are loud. I don’t need to say more, do I?”
They both laughed and went back to their thoughts. Nikhil wondered if Ravi knew everyone who had visited Nerivoor. But that seemed like a question that he should keep to himself and not let out. He hoped that Ravi would remember him the next time he came.
Nikhil always loved being a regular. There was a sense of loyalty he had towards certain places. If he liked one place, he would just stick with them. Although, most places he found always seemed to go out of business. He watched Ravi prepare another glass of tea for a customer and prayed to himself, “I hope Ravi-na will be there the next time I come.”
As he took one last sip of the tea, he heard the honk of a car.
“Your friend is here, thambi,” said Ravi.
Quickly Nikhil pays Ravi and rushes to the car. Just as he’s about to open the door, Ravi shouts, “Thambi! I didn’t ask you your name.”
“You can call me anything you like, master. Just as long as I know it’s me that you’re calling.”
Nikhil enters Vishal’s car, and they drive off, leaving Ravi with a smile.
*
Vishal’s house, 2046 Angel’s Nest, was both humble and grand. It exuded a sense of modesty that stemmed from an understanding of its true greatness.
Nikhil followed Vishal into the house, only to be greeted by a table filled with Christmas goodies. Decorations, wrapping paper, bits and pieces of the Christmas tree, and most importantly, freshly baked cookies.
Nikhil examined the cookies to make sure that they were in fact chocolate chip cookies. Vishal noticed his friend’s caution and mocked, “Don’t worry you won’t die. It’s not raisin.”
“Who baked these? They’re amazing!” asked Nikhil.
“Vidya,” replies Vishal. “You should tell her that by the way. She also makes these amazing red velvet brownies as well. I think you’d actually go insane if you tasted one.”
“You call your wife by her name?”
“I’d tell you what I call her, but knowing you, you’ll just use that name too. I really don’t want that.”
As Nikhil continued to devour the plate of cookies, Vishal picked up Nikhil’s luggage and headed upstairs. Unable to part with the plate, Nikhil took it with him as he followed Vishal.
“This is usually Aleena’s room. Since she’s not here, you can stay in it.”
Shocked, Nikhil asked, “What do you mean Aleena’s not here? She’ll be coming soon, right?”
Vishal turned to Nikhil with a look of disappointment. Not knowing what to say, he decides to remain silent. Nikhil understood what that silence meant. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of what was happening.
“Today at the tea shop, Ravi-na asked if I was here to meet someone. I made sure not to get too excited and just said, ‘I hope so.’ I’ve learned that the more I look forward to something, the worse it feels when it doesn’t work out. But you know… it doesn’t really matter how careful you are sometimes.”
Vishal slowly walked towards his friend to console him. He could see how upset Nikhil had become. Not knowing what to say, he decides to just carry on with the tour of the room, saying, “Maccha, just relax and forget about all that. It’s Christmas. You love Christmas. Come here. Just look at this.”
Quietly, Nikhil follows Vishal into the balcony to see the view outside. Identical houses, one after the other. All were similarly decorated with fairy lights and Christmas stars.
Nikhil tried to focus on the beauty that was in front of him, but his eyes couldn’t focus as well as he wished to. The more he looked at the fairy lights, the more he lost focus. He thought to himself,
“Through the mist, the fairy lights seem like doors to another world. Maybe there I will get to spend Christmas like I had dreamt of.”
As he looked back at Vishal, he realised that Vishal was still talking. It just so happened that he had forgotten to listen. Worried that he wouldn’t be able to catch up to where the conversation had reached, Nikhil stops Vishal to ask, “Can I smoke here?”
“Yeah, you can smoke here. Just make sure not to smoke in the room though. The maid will tell Vidya about it, and then she’ll tell me how it’s going to be impossible to get rid of the smell from the sheets.”
“But… it isn’t that hard to get rid of the smell.”
“I know that. But Vidya doesn’t. Nor does she plan on knowing it. So, please. Smoke only in the balcony.”
As Nikhil happened to be a respectful guest, he picked up the packet of cigarettes and stepped back out onto the balcony. Looking back at the fairy lights, he lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. A drag that lasted as long as his thoughts of smoking a cigarette with Aleena. Unsure where to set aside the remnants of these thoughts, he asked, “Is there an ashtray here? Or at least something I could use as an ashtray?”
“Check under the futon. There should be one there.”
“Oh, how come?” asked Nikhil as he reached down. Although it wasn’t exactly an ashtray. Rather a coffee mug filled with cigarette butts.
“Well, that’s Aleena’s ashtray. Like I said. This is basically her room. That futon is where she sits and smokes.”
Nikhil, who had unknowingly sat in Aleena’s spot, jumped out of the futon and took a step back. He looks back at the futon with a look that asks for her forgiveness. As if she had granted him permission, he once again sat back down in the futon. Although, this time, it felt different. A presence that wasn’t there before. One that came from the world beyond the fairy lights.
“Also, heads-up. It might be full. I generally don’t touch any of Aleena’s stuff. She’s pretty serious about stuff like that.”
As Nikhil observed the ashtray, he noticed the lipstick stains that seemed to accompany the cigarette butts. A deep and dark red that stained the pure white of the Davidoff cigarettes. He thought out loud,
“Never picked you to be a rich, spoilt brat. Interesting. What else do I not know about you, Aleena?”
Smiling to himself, he puts out his cigarette in the coffee mug graveyard—a bright orange tombstone amongst all the red and white.
“Maybe a King’s boy like me, wouldn’t really be your type.”
Back inside the room, he starts to go around, trying to find every little thing that Aleena had left behind. A photo frame with a photo of her and Vishal at a family party. Half empty bottles of alcohol. A bottle each of Jack Daniels, Malibu, Absolut, and a Jägermeister.
“Where is all this money coming from?!!”
Out of spite, Nikhil pours himself a glass of Jack Daniels. As always, he had a bottle of Coca-Cola on hand to mix with it. As he placed the empty bottle of Coca-Cola on the counter, he mocked, “Aleena madam! It’s just one drink. I hope you don’t mind.”
With the drink in one hand, he walked past almost everything in the room, only stopping at whatever he assumed was Aleena’s. There was no logical approach to it. The decision-making process solely fell to the power of his instincts. As such, he finally reached a newspaper that was placed on the bedside table. He picked it up and went through it. The newspaper was from the eighteenth of September. He went through it, and to his surprise, there was nothing much in it. Just the usual nonsense. But clearly something about the newspaper was interesting to Aleena, and he needed to find out what.
“Were you trying to learn about the world through this? I can’t believe that. Someone as smart as you wouldn’t be naive enough to believe the lies they print in these.”
Unsure what it was that Aleena was reading, he flipped through the newspaper. Eventually, he stopped at a comic strip.
“I wonder if she reads these. These are the only things of any value in these newspapers.”
As he went through the page, he understood what it was that attracted her to the newspaper. Sitting at the very end of the page was an unfinished crossword puzzle. Nikhil went through the clues and realised that this is something he could solve. He looked around for a pen, but he couldn’t find one. He asked, “Oh, you’re one of those people who carry a pen with them, aren’t you? I could never understand that. Such an inconvenience.”
After going through every drawer in the room, he managed to find a pencil. The fact that it wasn’t sharp annoyed him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Trying to look for a sharpener seemed pointless as he was sure he had already checked most of the drawers there. Regardless, he sat down, back in the bed, and completed the crossword.
1 Across: Feeling about something (4)
L O V E
Satisfied with himself, Nikhil sets the paper down and heads out to the balcony.
As he lights another cigarette, he can’t help but wonder, “Do you think we’ll ever get to smoke a cigarette together, Aleena? To be honest, that’s all I wanted. To look at the stars and share a cigarette with you. I don’t really know what else I was expecting to do once I saw you. If anything, all I could think of was the fact that you thought I was cute. Which meant I had to look exactly like the photo you saw of me so that you find me cute even when we met. And well… that’s what I did. I wore the same shirt, got the same haircut, and even trimmed my beard. I wish you could have seen me. It’s a shame. We would have looked really good together, somewhere among these fairy lights, hidden away in the mist, walking around just talking and smoking our time away.”
With these thoughts swirling, he took one last drag of the cigarette, exhaling it all into the night, where it merged with the mist of Nerivoor. Slowly, he stumbled his way into the bed, wondering if Aleena would be okay with him sleeping in her room.
Before he could figure out if it was right or wrong to do so, he had fallen asleep.
*
Christmas had come to an end, and it was time for Nikhil to head back. Unsure when he might have another chance to be in this room, he decides to leave something behind—a small mark that could be called his own. He takes a piece of paper that was left on the bedside table and starts to fold it. Slowly but gently, he folds it into a heart. A tiny little paper heart.
Only then does he realise how lame that would be, so he unfolds the paper and slips it beneath the lamp. Hopefully, by the time Aleena finds it, it will be straightened out.
Unable to grasp the concept of anxiety—or that he might be feeling some of it right now—Nikhil rationalizes the feeling as simply time running out. He wonders, “What can I leave here that might catch Aleena’s attention?”
Sadly, the time had come to an end. Nikhil looked back at the room as he left. Unable to walk away, only leaving a part of his heart, he quickly runs back and leaves his packet of cigarettes on the futon. Inside, he has left one lonely cigarette that will remain waiting for Aleena in his place.
*
To be continued?