One Moment please

As he looked out across the vast expanse of greyish brown, no emotion swept over him. This was supposed to one of the most religiously sacrosanct places according to his mother, one of the most serene places according to his grandmother, one of the most awe-inspiring places according to his grandfather and one of the most romantic places according to his father but no emotion whatsoever swept him over as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers and stared out. He sighed deeply and let his line of sight swing to the left and then to the right.

The breathtaking architectural wonder to his left that spanned across the breadth of the murky stretch did not speed up his cardiac muscles; neither did it induce any sense of pride or any semblance of belonging in his mind or heart. The transit system that populated the area immediately below his line of sight did not make the romantic lion purr in anticipation, neither did it make the hungry cat look longingly at the vehicles. The second architectural wonder which could be seen silhouetted against the misty sky did not make him draw in his breath sharply and release it slowly, neither did it render him motionless and speechless as his father had warned him it should. He sighed again and resigned.

Preparing to walk back , defeated and disappointed , he hopped off the low ledge , which had been his vantage point , and was about to cross the railway tracks which bordered the region when his swift movements were obstructed by a voice which caught his attention , in his stride .

“You are not from around here, are you?” inquired the soft, melodious voice.

“Actually I was born here,” he replied, a little too soon for his liking and turning around he completed, “but no, I’m not from around here.”

Considering that he had a skin-tone not unlike those of the locals and hair that was jet black, he was surprised by her question, which had turned out to be so accurate. “I am Karan. Karan Bakshi. “

“What gave it away?” he added after a slight pause.

“Well for starters the way you looked out across the river. Quite unlike a citizen. But what made it really elementary was your clothes “, she remarked smiling.

“My clothes?” he asked, puzzled, simultaneously examining his clothes desperate not to be embarrassed by a fashion faux pas.

“Well yes. You see our men don’t usually wear suits in the middle of the day in September and even if they do they don’t hang around this place”, she explained rather matter-of-factly.

“I see Miss Marple “, he retorted cheekily. “I sincerely hope that you are not the fictional character”, he added and was immediately repulsed by the cheesiness of the expunged words.

She afforded a laugh, albeit a short one, before introducing herself as Smriti Lakhotia.

As he walked onto the podium he looked down at the one pair of eyes that had always seen him ascend every podium for the past one quarter of a century and pleased to have located them, turned to face the remaining two hundred pairs and began to speak.

After nearly one half of an hour and two glasses of water, he sighed as he entered the final lap.

“Sometimes you find love in the most unexpected of places and most of the times it is always in the last place you looked”, he remarked as he stole a glance at the eyes which had not left him for the past 27 minutes. He continued,” In 2003 I came to this city in the hope of washing away the remains of this city from myself. Although I had lived in the United States for the past forty five years and had replaced the stone paved streets with concrete metalled roads, the puchka and bhel puri with burgers and French fries, the roadside addas with frequenting bars and taverns , the slow laziness and sleepiness induced by this city with the unforgiving world of boardrooms and presentations and the very essence of the old world charm with the mechanical superiority of the modern world, I just couldn’t replace my heart which I had lost to a girl in this city. So many years had passed but I couldn’t move on and I had to return to get closure, to convince myself that my heart was no longer in this city.”

He stopped and sipped some water, allowing it to percolate through his body.

With every eye and every camera following him now, he continued “Instead I realized that something that you lose is always in the last place that you check. It took me forty five years to finally get the place right but at the age of sixty five I had finally found what I had lost when I left the city. The city had not disposed of the pieces of my broken heart and for forty five years had held the pieces close to its heart, hoping that I would return to put the pieces together. It’s never too late to do something. I found my religion, I found serenity and I was left awestruck, all at once in the one single moment which changed my life. It came as late as 2003 but here I am today, happily married for twenty five years, all because I decided to give the city a chance. It is time that you do so too”

The Mayor received a standing ovation as he stepped down from the podium and walking upto the eight-five year old lady, who was the cynosure of all TV cameras and arc lights, embraced her and whispered into her ear “Let’s go”. She nodded and together they walked out as the audience continued clapping.

A twenty minute drive later they were seated ensconced in each other’s arms on one of the rickety boats that looked like it could sink any moment. Looking to his right and left, he realized what his father had found romantic and looked into his wife’s eyes adoringly. Looking back she whispered “Oh Karan!”

He whispered back, “Oh Calcutta!”