14/11/2016 0 Comments PARK BENCH....I.
The man staggered into the park, hesitant in his steps, his gait stooped by age. The skin on his weather beaten face was creased, browned by a lifetime of exposure to an unfair sun that seemed to have given him more than his share of sunshine. He stepped past the iron gate and stopped to look, unsure of which direction to head. The furrowed forehead that travelled to the top of his head was a creation of a hairline that had long been gone. The small, cringed eyes behind a pair of reading glasses betrayed his failing eyesight. He took a few steps towards the wooden bench that was set at a distance from the entrance, to his right. He stopped again and turned his head to the left, tentatively, the embarrassment of his presence in the park full of small children running about and nuzzling young couples clearly evident on his craggy face. He did not belong here or to this era. As if he was from another planet, sent to earth to keep an appointment - an appointment that he had counted down every day to this moment for the past twenty eight years. In this period of twenty eight years, he had watched his youth and vigour go past him. A robust man in his prime, his frame was now bent and unstable. The grey tweed coat that he wore to keep away the winter breeze was of the finest make, but the sleeves fluttered on his thin and wasted arms. His pair of black trousers was propped up by a tanned leather belt. His almost emaciated waist and hips were no longer capable of keeping the trousers in place unaided. Using the varnished walking stick that he never ventured out without, to support himself, the man slowly made his way, one faltering step after another, towards the bench. Every step that he took was a struggle, but the clenched fists and tightly pursed lips manifested his determination to keep the appointment. To say that it was just an appointment would be an insult to the man's resilience. It was this single hope that had made his heart cheat death - not once, not twice, but four times in these twenty-eight years. The music in his heart was still young, although the heart was shrouded in a body that was barely there. The man slumped on the bench, the effort clearly taking a toll on his frail being. His breathing was heavy. His eyes had turned foggy and a lone bead of perspiration lazily rolled down the side of his cheek. The man held on to his walking stick with trembling hands. The man sat on the bench, trying to regain his breath. Even this was an arduous task for him. After a while, he slowly raised his head and turned his sight from one edge of the park to the other, his eyes carefully surveying for any sign of familiarity, as best as they could. He had tried to reason with himself all these years that he was befooling himself. There was no reason to imagine that she would even remember him after all these years, leave alone recall a promise that she had made to him. But there was no way his heart would understand reason. She was the reason it had continued to beat, albeit weakly, for so many years. Her exquisite eyes had never left their gaze off him. Each time his weary body drove his mind into a slumber, he would see her looking at him. Those almond eyes were to die for and he wasn't going to die without seeing them one more time. He sat there, waiting, as the shadows of the trees in the park grew longer with every passing minute. As the shadows lengthened, the hope that he had nursed in his heart for twenty eight years began to turn to despair. He started to look around restlessly, feeling his sanity desert him slowly. His incipient delirium gradually began to blur the distance between decades of hope and an imminent despair. In such moments of nervous, despairing hope, he took solace in the poet's words. They had always given him strength. The man started to hum to himself. His voice no longer had any tune. It was barely audible even to his own ears. The words escaped his shrivelled throat in a cracked tone, the sound of the words making a strange cocktail with his wheezing. “Do winter evenings get this cold ?” the man wondered as he sat alone on that bench in the park. It had been many years since he had last spent an evening out in the open. Sixty-eight was an age when evenings were better spent sitting in front of the fireplace in his comfortable home rather than in a windy park on a harshly cold December evening. If his doctor had his way, he would have strapped him to his bed all day. The man pulled up the collar of his coat closer to his ears. The breeze cut through his skin like a razor. He no longer had much to boast of in the form of a body. The heat that his body produced would probably not keep a sparrow warm in this kind of weather. The last rays of the setting sun filtered into the park through the tall pines that surrounded it. The intoxicating fragrance of pines travelled on those orange rays of sunlight to the man. He inhaled deeply, as deeply his congested lungs would allow. Years of suffering from asthma had caused permanent lesions in them. The doctor had told him very matter-of-factly that the vessels in his two lungs had carried his death sentence in them for a number of years. Little did the learned doctor know that death visits only when the mind allows it to. He wasn’t going to go away without meeting her today. The man continued to sit on the bench as twilight slowly faded away from the western sky and plunged the park into darkness. He fought the bitter cold with his determination. As the dew started to descend on him, he began to wish that he had put on his woollen cap before leaving home. He ran his palm over his head and wiped away the thin layer of moisture that had formed on it. As the hands on his watch ticked on, his mind shuttled back and forth between hope and despondency. His body began to shiver, uncontrollably, in the cold. The chirpy little children who were playing boisterously in the park until a few moments ago, were all gone. A few couples slowly ambled out of the park in a manner that spoke loudly of their reluctance to leave the place. In the fading light, the man could still see a boy and a girl, presumably in their early twenties, fidgeting behind the trunk of a huge weeping willow that stood royally at one edge of the park, close to the bench where he was sitting. The man smiled to himself. At his age, he no longer had the same voyeuristic curiosity of younger men, but the movement of the shadowy figures of the young couple brought back fond memories to his mind. In his mind he could suddenly hear the rustling of her clothes as she hurried to put them on. She was wearing a long white sequined skirt with a white cotton blouse and a matching scarf that day. He recalled that it was a very cold evening like today. It was this same willow tree that had guarded their love making from prying eyes. It had taken him quite an effort to convince her to make it out with him in the park, under the open skies. The guard had accidentally stumbled upon them, interrupting their coitus. She had quickly pushed him off and straightened her skirt. He recalled having sheepishly smiled at the guard, trying to disguise his embarrassment, his nudity on full display. The guard had prudently walked away that day with a twinkle in his eyes, winking at him as he left. The man smiled to himself as he recalled the incident - he remembered standing there foolishly with his manhood left in the lurch, neither here nor there. His eyes turned to the willow tree once again, as he came out of his reverie. The couple was still sitting, clearly oblivious to the world around them as also to the severe cold that he felt. His body now began to shiver feverishly. The air in the park had turned icy cold. The man drew his feet up to his chest and circled his arms around his legs. His feet were frozen and raising them on the bench hurt his knees. The walking stick had fallen by the side of the bench. A tearing pain began around his ears and travelled deep into the insides of his head. He dug his head between his legs and tried to protect himself from the cold by pressing his knees tightly against his ears. The hands of the wristwatch moved on, the ticking of the watch sounding louder than ever before. II. I was startled by the flash of bluish light that came from behind the willow tree. I looked from my position on the bench. The couple that I had seen sitting there some while ago wasn’t there any more. In the light I could see the surroundings very clearly. The entire park was illuminated. The light seemed to travel to me and caress my body. It was a soothing experience, the kind of which I do not remember having experienced before. My limbs found a new vigour. The weariness that had taken over my body disappeared in an instant. I put my feet down on the ground and got up from my crouched position on the bench. My body felt light and lively. In the light, I could see the whole park before me, looking resplendent. I had not felt so full of life and energy in many years. I stood up and took a few steps towards the light. The honking of a car on the road just outside the park distracted my attention. I glanced over the fence that bordered the park. The neon displays on the shops lining the street had come on. The cars were driving down the road at double quick speed. People were returning home after a day at work. Everybody was in a hurry to get back home. I turned towards the light and took some more steps forward. It was no longer as bright as it had appeared at first. As I slowly approached the light, I thought I detected a movement behind the willow tree. I went closer, step by step. The light had dimmed. The rest of the park was no longer illuminated by it. Only the area surrounding the tree was now visible. I reached the tree and raised my left hand to touch the bark of the tree. It felt quite warm. Surprisingly warm, I thought. It had been a very cold evening today. I looked up at the branches of the tree. The wind rustled the leaves. I bent down and looked at the spot from where the light had seemed to come. There was nothing. I straightened my back and looked around. I was surprised that I had been able to bend down and get up without any discomfort, an act that I had not been able to carry out in many decades. I stood under the tree, looking around, a little confused. The movement that I had seen behind the tree some moments ago was not there any more. Perhaps an animal, I thought. Then, suddenly, I heard the rustling of clothes. That familiar sound of starched cotton clothes ruffled by the breeze. It was that same known sound from an age gone by. I knew it was her ! I craned my neck around the tree trunk. I saw her sitting there on the grass at the base of the tree, on the other side, her back resting against the trunk. She was wearing the same white sequined skirt with a matching white blouse and an embroidered white scarf. Her legs were stretched out on the grass, one leg over the other. Her skirt was neatly pressed out on her legs, going down almost to her ankles. She had placed her hands on her lap and her gaze was on her open palms. I nervously walked over to the other side of the tree and bent down to her. She raised her eyes and looked at me, her lips curled in a half smile. Our eyes met for the first time in almost three decades. My doe eyed love hadn’t changed at all in all these years. “I had begun to think that …..” “…. that I wouldn’t keep my word. How could I ever forget ? I have been waiting for this day for the past twenty-eight years” “So have I” I said, my response sounding almost a repetition of her words. I felt foolish. She held out her hand to me. I took it in my hand and felt her touch for the first time in so many years. I helped her stand up, her hand in mine. I kept staring into her eyes. They looked so serene and peaceful. I could see that she had kept herself quite well, unlike me. I felt a tinge of embarrassment. The skin on her face was flawless and smooth like silk. She looked nothing like a woman of sixty-four years. Thirty six would be more appropriate, I thought. “How have you been, love ?” the sound of her voice tenderly caressed every sensation in my being. “Not very good, I am afraid” I replied. “I have lived on medicines and on hope, just to live to see this day. I have wished every moment of the past twenty eight years to be with you. But I never knew where you had gone” A cloud of sadness descended on her lovely face. I had never seen her more beautiful than now. Her eyes were clear as crystal and a drop of tear had collected in one corner. “You don’t appear to have aged at all. You still look exactly as you did when I last saw you” I said, admiring her beautiful face. She touched my lips with her lovely fingers, as if urging me not to speak. She let her gaze drift from my eyes to my lips. Her lips quivered and she daintily closed her eyes, her face tilted towards mine. A drop of tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight that had now bathed the park. She rested her head on my shoulder. I let it lie there tenderly. Her tresses were fragrant and the breeze blew them softly against my face. I just let them be. I inhaled the fragrance deeply. My lungs absorbed all of it. We seemed to have lost sense of time and stood there like two young lovebirds, oblivious to the world around us. I felt a rare happiness in my heart. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. Time had come to a standstill for us. I asked her “where do you live ?” breaking the silence. “Very close to here” she whispered. “I will take you home today.” “It is very cold here in the park” I said “let us go”. She looked deeply into my eyes and replied with a smile “Yes, let us”. We started walking slowly towards the exit. The manicured grass felt like a carpet beneath my feet. She had her arms around my waist, holding me firmly. I had my arm over her shoulder, guiding her as we walked. As we came close to the bench where I had spent the entire evening, I saw a figure lying on the bench. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I had not realised that there was another person in the park, save the two of us. She saw me staring at the figure on the bench, her face half turned towards mine. “Why do you look so sad ?” I asked, turning towards her. She shook her head, without answering, as we continued to walk towards the bench. We reached the bench. I saw a man lying in a foetal position on the bench, his legs pulled up to his torso and his head sunk on his chest, his back towards us. The man, although frail, appeared to be of good standing as his tweed coat and woollen trousers seemed to indicate. I went up to the man and shook him. He did not move. His body felt stiff and cold. A watch on his wrist ticked on, its luminous dial shining in the darkness. A large mass of cloud had covered the moon. I could not see the man’s face clearly in the darkness. He was an elderly, dignified man – sixty eight years of age, perhaps, like me. She ran her fingers through whatever little hair I had on my head. I turned to look at her. She shook her head once again, looking endearingly at me. The sadness on her face was more pronounced now. Her tears glistened on her lovely face. I understood. I turned once again to look at the figure on the bench. Looking at the man lying motionless on the bench, I felt a strange affinity for him. Even in the darkness, everything about the man appeared very familiar to me. Did I know him, I wondered ! “Poor old man” I sighed sombrely. “The cold must have been too harsh for him.” As I backed off the bench, I almost tripped on a stick that was lying on the ground. It was a fine varnished walking stick. I picked it up and placed it on the bench by the side of the man’s body. I moved two steps back from the bench and took her hands in mine once again and held her close. “Come dear, let us go home” she whispered into my ears. Saying so, she lead me out of the park. The iron gate clanged on its metal frame, closing behind us, as we left. A soft bluish hue appeared before us, lighting the path ahead with its soothing brightness. In its brightness, the surroundings disappeared into non-existence. We walked ahead, her hand firmly in mine. The honking of cars and the display of neon lights drifted away to another world – a world to which I no longer seemed to belong.
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