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A LOVE STORY - Episode 2

Discussion in 'Saturdays with Varalotti' started by varalotti, Jul 18, 2008.

  1. varalotti

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    A LOVE STORY
    A Serial By Varalotti Rengasamy
    Episode 2


    The sea was so far away from Arun that the sound of the waves thrashing against the shores was a very feeble white noise which only served to deepen the silence that surrounded him. Before him was the endless beach. Arun was perched on a comfortable chair leaning over his laptop typing the final pages of his magnum opus.

    The lady had entwined Arun’s shoulders with her hands keeping her beautiful face close to Arun’s. She was closely following what Arun was typing. They were all alone in one of the largest private beaches of the world.

    That was a beautiful expression which Arun managed to bring out at a very critical stage in the novel. The lady was ecstatic. She tightened her grip over his neck and planted a wet kiss on his cheeks.

    “Marvellous Arun. You’ve made the heroine say what I wanted her to. You have spoken my mind, Arun. And you have done it with more beauty, more intensity and more clarity than I can ever dream of. I love your words. I love you, my dearest.”

    Arun was smothered in the wild expressions of her intense love.

    The love-birds were disturbed by the sound of a dog barking. At very close quarters.

    Arun woke up with a start. To hell with the dog, he thought. He had been woken up from one of the sweetest dreams he had ever had during the last ten years.

    The rage he had built up in his mind would have been sufficient to kill the canine intruder then and there. But the problem was that it was not a dog. It was his cell-phone ringing.
     
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  2. varalotti

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    Part 2!
    Arun had assigned the sound of a dog’s barking to his father’s number. So when the cell phone barked, he knew for sure, that within a minute or two, his father would follow suit.

    “I was counting Arun. Your phone rang fifteen times before you picked up.”

    His father never talked to him. He only talked at him.

    He did not even faintly suspect that Arun might have a mind or a heart of his own. He was trying to vicariously live an extended life through his only son.

    Arun’s father was the world’s best illustration of a single track mind continuously involved in a kind of blindfolded linear thinking. For him the only job worthwhile for any one was being a clerk in a Government Bank.

    And if you can become an Officer there then you are damn lucky. For in spite of his repeated attempts he could not become one. He joined as a clerk and after thirty five years of service retired as a senior clerk.

    Whenever Arun talked to his father his heart would be in direct conflict with his mouth. His heart would be hollering in uncontrollable rage while his mouth would be whispering some polite stupidities. Invariably three entities will be involved in that conversation. Arun’s father, Arun’s heart and his mouth. Today was no exception.

    Arun’s heart: “You counted up to fifteen, Dad? Great. That’s about the only ability you picked up in your career as a bank clerk.”

    Arun’s mouth: "Sorry Dad was not well. Got up just now. Feeling very tired.”

    His Dad: “When are you going to sign up for that Officer’s Examination Course? And when the hell are you going to become an Officer?

    Arun's heart: “I have a one word answer for both the questions. Never.”

    Arun’s mouth: “Sometime next week, Daddy.”

    His Dad: “You have just a year’s time. Either become an officer. Or get married. Or else…”

    Arun’s heart: “Dad, please, why don’t you add a third alternative, like for example jumping before a running train and killing myself? I would happily opt for the third.”

    Arun’s mouth: “Ok, Dad. I need to go now. It’s already late.”

    His Dad: “Today’s Saturday. You call me on Monday. You should have signed up for the course by then.”

    Arun’s heart had gone numb. His mouth muttered a lifeless ‘OK’ and his father disconnected.
     
  3. varalotti

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    Part 3!

    It was only the previous morning that Arun had been to Dr.Kamla’s. In spite of all the emotional drama that happened there, Arun felt strangely relieved once he walked out of her clinic.

    Had he told his mental state to Dr. Kamla she would have explained that the mere acknowledgement of one’s depression set the curing process in motion.

    He had applied for a day’s leave and was free for the whole day.

    He rode on his brand new Bajaj Pulsar to his favourite restaurant in interior Mylapore. It was a very small place which did not even have a proper name board.

    It could accommodate only 12 people at the maximum. It did not boast of the ambience of a Taj or Le Royal Meridien. But you could get the tastiest, healthy South Indian vegetarian food there at unbelievable prices. Arun ordered a full square meal and relished every morsel of the food.

    After lunch he headed home to his single bed room flat in <st1:place>West Mambalam</st1:place>. He napped for about an hour. When he woke up he was refreshed and was raring to write something.

    He sat down before his laptop around <st1:time minute="30" hour="14">half past two</st1:time> in the afternoon. He was writing continuously till nine. He went out for some snacks and a cup of hot milk. He resumed his writing and went on till <st1:time minute="0" hour="1">1 AM</st1:time>. He had finished the first draft of his novel – something he had been trying to do for the past six months.

    What hard work and harder thinking could not accomplish in months, a woman’s love and her simple acceptance of his friendship had accomplished in a matter of a single day.

    Love, whatever may be its form, is a miracle in itself and is a prime mover for many other miracles. Arun’s mind was full of love when he dozed off to sleep. And that partially explained his romantic dream at the beach.
     
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    Part 4!

    That was the first Saturday of the month. Arun’s bank transacted business with its customers from <st1:time minute="0" hour="10">10 AM</st1:time> to <st1:time minute="0" hour="12">12 Noon</st1:time>. The staff however had to work till <st1:time minute="0" hour="14">2 PM</st1:time>. The branch was crowded with pensioners who wanted to withdraw money from their accounts for their expenses. Arun was posted in the Savings Bank section for the day.

    The time was <st1:time minute="55" hour="9">9:55</st1:time>. Arun had to wait till 10 to attend on his first customer. His cell phone rang. It was a lady’s voice.

    “Am I talking to the great writer, Vidhyabharathi?”

    “How did you get this number? Only my publisher knows it.”

    “You know I had to lie, cry and even flirt with your publisher to make him give me your number.”

    Arun smiled.

    “Ok, tell me what do you want?”

    “Just finished reading your novel..”

    Arun cut her short.

    “Sorry, Madam, I can’t talk to you now. I am at work. Can you please call me around <st1:time minute="30" hour="14">half past two</st1:time>?”

    “That’d be too late, Writer Sir.”

    “Ok. Call me at 11 30. I normally take a ten minutes’ coffee break at that time. I’ll skip my coffee and talk to you.”

    “Oh, please don’t skip your morning coffee on my account. Anyhow thanks. Will call you at 11 30. Will take just ten minutes of your time.”

    “Ok”
     
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    Part 5!

    Good Morning, Mr. Chari. How are you doing? How is your chest pain now? Did your son call?”

    Many bank clerks treated their customers as just account numbers and ledger folios. But for Arun every customer was a human being requiring personal attention.

    And pensioners like <st1:place>Chari</st1:place> required a great deal more than mere attention.

    “Good Morning, Arun. I am fine. My chest pain is okay thanks to the magic drug Isodril. My son… he is worse than my chest pain. At least for chest pain I have Isodril. I don’t have an antidote for my son yet.

    “He is not even interested in knowing whether I am dead or alive. I am a sinner, Arun. Otherwise I would not have got a son like that rascal. If I had done some good deeds in the past, I’d have had a loving son like you.”

    Arun was moved. But he also had a sobering thought that his father would have said the same thing about his son.

    He helped <st1:place>Chari</st1:place> with his pension credit and cash withdrawal.

    Before 11 AM Arun had cleared a dozen of his pensioner-customers. Thirty more minutes to go for the coffee break.

    A sub-staff came running to him.

    “The manager wants to see you.”

    Arun logged off from his computer and went to the Manager’s room.
     
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    Part 6!

    The Manager who used to be always morose and stern was unusually smiling and was desperately trying to please Arun. The unnatural smile on the Manager’s face only served to make it even more grotesque.

    “Please sit down, Arun Kumar.”

    Arun sat down.

    “You can take two days off next week. You will be marked “On Duty” in the Attendance Register. So your leave credit will not be affected. I’ll sanction you Rs.1000 from my discretionary entertainment expense account. You can freak out.”

    Unprovoked munificence from someone as gross as the Manager made Arun highly suspicious. He asked in a flat voice.

    “Tell me what I should do for you.”

    “Nothing, Arun Kumar. Nothing.”

    Arun’s suspicion became stronger.

    “Are you free this evening, by any chance? Or tomorrow afternoon? Or tomorrow evening?”

    “It’d be better if you tell me what I should do for you. We’ll discuss the logistics later.”

    “Do you know Mrs. Sharma? She is the wife of the great real-estate magnate Mr. Rahul Sharma. He owns close to 300,000 square feet of prime office area in <st1:place><st1:placeName>Tidal</st1:placeName><st1:placeType>Park</st1:placeType></st1:place>. Mr. Sharma is a high net worth individual. He’s worth Rs.200 crores. Slowly turn towards the customer lobby. She’s there. The one in black T shirt.”

    Arun did as he was told. A lady in her mid forties was staring at him through the glass that separated the customer’s lobby from the Manager’s cabin.

    What caught Arun’s attention was the gaudy diamond necklace that was glaringly contrasted by her black T shirt. To Arun it appeared as if the lady wanted to shout through the public address system to the whole world that she was rich.

    “What about her?”

    “Nothing, Arun Kumar. She wants to take you out for dinner tonight. She wants to discuss her financial portfolio with you. She will pick you up at your flat around seven tonight and drop you there after the dinner.

    “And if you agree, she will deposit Rs 3 crores in our branch. Just think, Arun Kumar. Three Crores Deposit. This bank will become a car-branch. I’ll get a brand new car.

    “If the deposit comes I’ll see to it that you get the usual staff incentive. Half a percent. A cool one and a half lakhs, man. What do you say?”


    The Manager’s eyes were sparkling with unadulterated greed.

    “Sorry Sir. I can’t.”

    “What if I insist, Mr. Arun Kumar?”

    “Even then I can’t.”

    “Why not?”

    “Because I hate it.”

    “You don’t seem to understand, Arun Kumar.”

    “I do, Sir. But now I’ll try to make you understand. Let me just reverse the situation. Let’s say that instead of Mrs. Sharma, her husband, Mr. Sharma had come here with the same Three Crores deposit.

    “And he insists that our staff Jeyanthi, that good looking girl working in the Cash Section today, should spend a night with him. Will you have the courage to tell Jeyanthi to do so?”

    “That’s different. But I can always request…”

    “That’s not and you can’t. You know why? If you do so, Jeyanthi can prefer a sexual harassment complaint against you. Pending enquiry you’d be transferred to our punishment branch in Guwahathi. That would be the end of your career.

    “Sexual harassment law is meant for protecting women employees. But the law as it is drafted does not discriminate between men and women. If you don’t believe my words, allow me to switch on my cell phone and record your words.

    “I will then prefer a complaint against you. You’ll find out for yourself whether I am right or not. Do you like to try?”

    Arun took out his cell phone and flashed it before the Manager.

    The Manager wiped off the sweat from his forehead. He let out a sheepish grin to announce his defeat.

    “Arun Kumar, poor lady, she feels very lonely. I am afraid you are viewing this from a wrong angle. Just think like this. Haven’t I found a female friend for you?”

    “Thanks. I don’t need female friends now. If ever I feel the need in future I know there is a local expert right inside our branch. I’ll tell my friends too. Now will you please let me do my work?”

    Arun left the room. The Manager was wiping off the sweat that was not there in his face.
     
  7. varalotti

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    Part 7!

    As Arun was walking towards his seat his mobile rang. Arun saw the time. <st1:time minute="30" hour="11">11:30</st1:time>.

    “Vidyabharathi, its 11 30. “

    “OK. Tell me. “

    “Will you never ask my name, Writer Sir?”

    “I’m sorry, Ma’am. What’s your name?”

    “Sujatha.”

    “Sweet name. Tell me what you want to talk about.”

    Sujatha talked about one of his controversial novels. Arun was amazed at her insights, at her incisive reasoning and above all her perfect analysis of the workings of the human mind.

    Arun asked her some questions. Her answers were clear, to the point, and reflected her understanding of the subject. She knew some of Arun’s characters in that novel better than Arun.

    Arun was sure that if he rewrote the novel with the inputs she had given just now it would be a far better work. He saw the time. It was <st1:time minute="38" hour="11">11:38</st1:time>. He did not want to keep his customers waiting any longer.

    “Great, Sujatha. I want to see you sometime. And talk with you for hours and hours.”

    “You can do that, Writer Sir. This very afternoon. We can have lunch together and just talk as friends.”

    The voice now was different and Arun immediately recognized its owner. Dr.Kamla.

    “Sorry, Arun. I wanted to talk to you as your fan for a while. I don’t work during the week-ends. We normally have a late lunch on Saturdays around <st1:time minute="0" hour="15">3 PM</st1:time>. So I thought of making the first friendship call to you. I’d be happy if you can join us for lunch. We live in Kilpauk. The address is….”

    Arun jotted down the address and asked about landmarks nearby.

    “You have accepted the friendship call from a depressed bank clerk. How can I ever even begin to thank you, Doctor?”

    “No Arun, I think this way. Let’s say there’s a girl who’s a hardcore movie buff and a Kamal Hassan fan. And suppose Kamal calls her to tell that he wants to be friends with her. Believe me, my dear friend, I am as excited as that girl.”

    Arun was speechless.

    “Ok Arun, we’ll be waiting for you. <st1:time minute="0" hour="15">3 PM</st1:time>. What kind of lunch do you prefer? South, North, Continental?”

    “Anything. If you are going to eat with me, Doc, even if it’s potassium cyanide, it’s perfectly okay with me.”

    Now it was Kamla’s turn to be speechless.
     
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    Part 8!

    The door bell rang at five to three. The man of the house opened the door. He was surprised to see a young, handsome man standing there with a bunch of books in his hand.

    “Come on, in young man. I am Dr.Kumar. Dr.Kamla’s better half. Welcome. When Kamla said that you are handsome, I didn’t believe that. But now……… .. You rock, young man.”

    Arun was dressed in semi-formals. Dark brown full hand shirt and beige colour pants.

    It was a duplex flat in the <st1:place><st1:placeName>Aspiron</st1:placeName><st1:placeType>Garden</st1:placeType></st1:place> I street in the Kilpauk Garden Area. Dr. Kumar was dressed in dark blue denim trousers and a loose fitting kurtha.

    Kamla came running from inside. She was dressed in black pants and a bright blue T-shirt.

    “I’m Arun Kumar.”

    Dr.Kumar shook hands with him.

    “You know something Arun, Kamla adores you. She can cite pages and pages of your writing by heart. I have never seen her adoring a writer, a man so much.”

    “Kumar, don’t embarrass me.”

    “Doctor, here are some of my books for you.”

    Kamla accepted them with happiness.

    “Arun, will you please sign on them for me? I’d have something to brag about in my next Ladies Club meeting.”

    Arun was careful enough to use his pseudonym while signing the books.
     
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    Part 9!


    Arun and Dr.Kumar started to converse as if they had known each other for aeons. Meanwhile Kamla went in and brought drumstick soup for them.

    Arun had seen his father quite restless after his retirement. He was interested to know how Dr. Kumar managed his time.

    “There is nothing to manage, Arun, least of all your time. Just relax and be yourself. That’s the only secret of a happy retired life. Had I known that retired life would be so enjoyable I’d have retired without working at all, letting this good lady do all the work.

    “We should love our work, Arun. But that does not mean that we should depend on it for our happiness. The ability to stay complete without one’s work is the hallmark of real maturity.

    “I have seen popular movie actors and actresses going bust once their market is gone. Life without their work, without being in limelight is hell for them.”

    ‘And that applies to retired bank clerks as well - minus the limelight part.’ Arun thought about his father.

    Dr. Kumar continued.

    “Arun, somehow we are obsessed that unless we earn much more than what we can spend we are not safe in our lives. Life is not about money. It’s about the good time we have, the sweet memories we can share and the learning experiences.

    “If work gets you all these things, fine. If you can get these things without working, it is even better.”

    Arun fell in love with that man and his principles.

    ‘When there are so many good men around why should God in His infinite wisdom choose the one and only Mr.Krishnamurthi to be my father?’ Arun could not help thinking.
     
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    Part 10!

    Doctor, I have never had such a delicious lunch in the recent past.”

    “My contribution to this lunch was perfect non-interference. I let Kumar chose the menu and the third member of our family, Rajeswari, cook it.”

    Arun was moved by Kamla’s calling the cook as the third member of the family. Kamla called Rajeswari and introduced her to Arun. The fifty plus lady was swelling in happiness and pride.

    Arun congratulated her on her culinary skills and thanked her for the good food.

    They had a dessert of gulab jamuns and vanilla ice-cream in the living room. After a decent interval Dr.Kumar excused himself.

    “Carry on guys. I need to go to my club. Good day young man. It’s a pleasure meeting you. Remember you have a great friend in Kamla. “

    “And one in you too, Sir.”


    Dr. Kamla and Arun were left alone in the living room. The cook had gone out for some purchases.

    Kamla came out with an ice-breaker.

    “Arun, I know two things are weighing you down. One is your father. And the other is your love. I don’t want to hear about your father in the very first meeting. Now let’s talk about love.”

    Arun was looking down.

    “Are you by any chance looking for a paper knife?”

    He looked up at her and smiled. He saw the small spot on her blemishless forehead, a sad reminder of what he did when he met her for the first time. The smile vanished from his face.

    “Come on Arun. Cheer up.”

    It took some time for Arun to become his usual self.

    “I’m just curious, Doc. Tell me one thing that made you find out that I’m in love.”

    “I’ll tell you five, my dear friend. First, I am a woman. Second, I am a mother. Third, I’ve been in love. Fourth I am a psychiatrist. And finally, you don’t need the other four. It is written all over your face. And written in underlined, bold, capital letters on your eyes. Now be a good boy and tell me about your love.”

    Arun started to talk. About his love. About Vidya.


     

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