Thursday Evening (Friday morning)

By Shireen SENADHIRA

He walked down a by-lane just as a few drops of rain turned into a moderate drizzle. He wondered whether the drops of water that ran down his cheeks were his own or raindrops. He stopped and looked around. A cripple lay to his left, on the sidewalk, arm outstretched with a can hanging listlessly from it. He rummaged through his pockets and came up with a few coins and dropped them with a loud 'clang' into the empty can. The cripple smiled at his benefactor, retracted his arm and began counting the coins. He walked ahead.

On the main street, he looked on.

To his right were a couple of stray dogs burrowing their way through a pile of litter next to lamp post on the sidewalk. He looked ahead at the intersection and saw the mass of people one expected to see at such places. Young men and women in their starched and spotless clothing going to work. An old man fumbled with his umbrella, trying to pry it open, but by the time he did so, he was partially drenched. He cursed and moved on. A delivery boy brushed against him, apologized and went his way, looking down at his bundle of envelopes every now and then trying to keep them dry. A couple of schoolgirls looked at him from under their yellow raincoats, giggled and walked ahead. Further away, a woman holding a pink umbrella argued with a roadside peddler who sat under an aluminum shelter. It all seemed unreal.

He pondered upon this as he moved ahead, unaware that his walk had turned into a moderate jog and soon to a brisk run. People began to pass him faster. Cars zipped by, the buildings disappearing more quickly than they should have. He looked down to see his legs moving fast, surprised at the motion rhythmic. He tried to stop but couldn't and then he rammed into a bright red post box with gaping mouth, knees first, did a flip and landed on his left side on the wet tar, rolled a little and came to a painful halt and out of breath. His elbows were scratched and blood was trickling down from the side of his face where it had hit the road. He winced with pain. His head throbbed too, a migraine hit him unexpectedly.

Passers-by helped him up only to find him slump down on the wet road again and say 'I'm fine,' between groans of pain. Soon enough, the bunch of people that had gathered around him, dispersed, leaving him alone in the rain. He began to smile, but the pain was becoming unbearable and he thought so much pain for what? Then he passed out

(The evening before)

'I need to talk to you,' Eva said as soon as he picked up the phone.

'Are you free tonight?' 'Maybe we can go out for dinner?'

'I'm free. Is something wrong?'

'I'll... I'll talk tonight.'

'Should I worry?'

'Harin, please. Pick me up at nine tonight?'

'All right Eva, I still love you.'

A pause. 'I know you do.'

They sat at a window seat in their favourite restaurant, a little distance away from their old college. 'Good days then' he thought. He looked at her and said 'Eva is something wrong?'

'Let's order first,' she said.

His mind wandered back to a fortnight ago when they met, the exact scene had happened.

They were sitting on the table across the room. She was wearing her favourite mauve dress and he could smell the fragrance of her favourite perfume wafting towards him. It would fill his senses as it always did.

The dinner was brought to them. They finished their meal and when the dessert arrived, she began talking, slowly.

'I have something to tell you, but, it should wait till we finish dinner.'

'Just say what you have to say, You know I can't handle suspense.'

'Ok, I can't go on like this, Harin. We are fighting too much. We can't have a decent conversation without an argument.'

'I guess, it's just a bad patch that we are going through.'

'I can't handle it any more. We are two totally different people. Just too different.'

'After all this time, don't you think I deserve another chance.'

'Harin!'

'Alright, just forget what I said. I can see. You have made up your mind. I won't allude to it anymore.'

'Are you Ok with this?'

'Yeah. Well, I mean.... Forget it, I'm done? Shall we call for the cheque?'

'Yes, I'm done.'

He called the waiter to bring the bill. She spoke again.

'I have to go to my aunts's.'

'Alright, shall I drop you?'

'No, it's fine. It's out of your way. I'll make it on my own. Hope I'll see you later.'

'Ok call me sometime.'

'We can be good friends,' she shot back.

'Of course!'

He looked at the street through the window barely noticing the waiter coming near. It seemed unreal. There was so much urgency when she made the dinner date. Was that all? There's something more in this, he thought.

'Wait a minute, I think I know what's this about. You're seeing another guy!'

She remained silent.

'You are! Well who is it?'

'Its....'

'For Christ's sake! Tell me it's not who I think it is!'

'I'm sorry Harin, it is.'

The waiter passed by their table at that moment. Harin called out saying, 'can I have the cheque?'

'Harin,' she protested.

The waiter brought the bill.

He paid up and left. She was still holding her fork in the air.