short story

The dark room

As kids we used to play a game called dark room. The game is similar to hide and seek but set in a room with lights off and windows shut. One who seeks needs to find other kids, and identify them by touching. This game was a hit especially when we visited the old family house of our great grandma. The house was in the middle of a forest full of mango trees.  The whole second floor of the house can be made dark by closing the wooden windows. Many distant cousins and friends used to come for vacation and the number of players can reach 10-15.  Most of us were stepping into teens, and the touch in the dark made the game exciting.

One day we started playing in the morning. I wanted to outsmart them and was looking for a clever hiding place. The house had a conical roof with tiles. Below the roof there were wooden beams where you can put sacks full of grains. I climbed up, laid down in the tiny gap between the roof and the grain sacks.  The plan was perfect. I could hear the seeker walking below. But he didn’t find me. I laughed inside thinking that no one will be able to find me out. 

With time I started losing trust in my choice. What if nobody bothered to look for me? .  I took a peek through the gap of  sacks and saw the room was empty. In the dark, on the second floor of a hundred year old house, I was alone. The intense smell of grain made my head spin.  In panic, while climbing down, I fell on the floor and hurt my knee. Hobbling through the dark corridor, I went to the other rooms to look for my cuisines.  I managed to switch on the lights and the whole floor was empty. All my friends might be making fun of me while having mangoes downstairs. The feeling of being left alone, untouched was unbearable.  

Three years ago, when the lock down started, things were not this bad. The whole world was full of people sharing the similar phase. We engaged in lock down groups for making tic tok videos, for making in-home gardens, fitness training and other activities. But after months, with no light at the end of the tunnel, people got tired of the whole thing. Every month I used to talk to the counsellor and after a point I was sure who was helping whom. You cannot tell your problems to anyone since they have the same or even bigger problems. Whole society was silently going into a mental lockdown. No words will make any reader feel about my situation. Nobody now cares for a story about someone’s pain.  

On a rainy day I was walking to the store to get instant noodles. Someone walked into me.  “ Can I walk with you to the store?” she asked. 

This was the first first in months (or years? , I’m not sure) someone talked to me in person other than the store owner. Meeting of two people was banned, but I couldn’t think of it then. 

“Sure, why not?” I said. 

“Thank you I haven’t talked to someone in a million years” 

“Well I had a party with 200 people last night” I said. 

“ Ha, nice to see your imagination doesn’t have any lock down” . We both laughed

She was an arts major student who never saw the campus. She talked about art, her work on plays and the need to tell stories of our time. I was unsure about my talking skills, mainly the body language. But we seem to get along well. We talked about childhood and I told her my story of the dark room. She seems stunned for a moment !  

“What happened?”, I asked 

She stopped, removed her mask and looked at my face.  “ Please don’t hate me, but I am pretty sure I was in the group which left you alone” 

 How small is the world !. What are the odds of finding  an old friend in a far away city during a lockdown ? Is she lying ?

“Really?” I tried to hide my shock “But I don’t remember you. Did we meet after that?” 

She smiled “ No, I was visiting one of my friends house, and she invited me to that haunted house” 

While walking back from the stores, we laughed about the good old times. She was walking close by and our hands were touching. The only living thing that touched me in moths was the cat that used to visit my room for milk. I tried not to show the way I felt. We talked about movies, books and arch rivals.  She asked whether she can visit me sometime. We hugged before saying goodbye.  All of a sudden life has changed its color.

She visited my room every other week. We played cards, video games, cooked food and sometimes made out. Though there were many close moments, I was unsure how she felt about me. 

“ Your cousin will not be so happy to hear that I am dating you”  she said once. “She was the only one who felt bad for you on that day. I always felt she had a crush on you” 

“Hmm I should give her a call, then” I said. 

Her response was a bit abrupt.  “ Typical ! You men dont value the things in your life. Always putting your dick out for potential pray while forgetting how miserable you were. You should feel lucky that I found you. Otherwise you would have rotten in this shithole”

  “That was a joke, and why do you hang out with me if you think I am a loser?”

We fought with each other for an hour. I even feared the neighbors would call the cops as the visitors were illegal. After some point we were not sure what was the fight originally about. For the next couple of months there was no contact. I didn’t know where she was living. She was not returning my calls.  I walked around lane by lane hoping to meet her. I got fined three times by the police for leaving my allowed space.  

On a stormy night she knocked on the door. Her clothes were all wet. She kissed me the moment I opened the door. She said sorry for the fight and hugged me closely. Her fingers, smell and touch felt magical. Things got heated up very soon and she started ripping off my cloths

“Let’s switch off the radiator and lights” she said

“ But it’s freezing in here”

“We have all the heat we need, and let’s play the dark room”

I couldn’t resist the passion. I got up to switch off the lights. 

“I have a better idea, ”  she jumped up.

She ran outside the house and pulled down the fuse in the basement. She rushed back to the room and locked the door. It was the darkest room I have ever seen. We kissed again for minutes and she had that intense smell of grain.  In the lightning I saw her bare body and she was calling me to climb up.

From the table I took a step to the cupboard, then I stepped on to the grain sack. The roof was almost touching my body, and I feared it may squeeze me down. The intense smell of grains consumed me. I heard her laughter fading away and the sound of locking the door. Some of the water droplets drifted through the tiles while I was lying on the sack, frozen, afraid and untouched.  

experiences · Life · memories

Remains of a city : A call from PRL

It was the summer of 2010. I got the offer letter from Physical Research Laboratory (PRL) , Ahmedabad. I was working at MG College Thiruvananthapuram as a project fellow. My guide, then HOD, was reluctant to send me off and I had a tough time convincing him. He even threatened me that I will have to give back my whole salary. I almost dropped the plan. Fortunately, other faculties came for help and convinced him for letting me go. Hence I packed my bags and took a train to Vadodara (former Baroda) first.  One of my distant cousin Devettan is a faculty in the Baroda university in the fine arts department. So I went to visit him first and then moved to Ahmedabad on the next day. 

As I was never rooted anywhere, I didn’t had any feeling of uprooting and I was enthusiastic to explore the new place. PRL is situated in the new city of Ahmedabad. The center was initiated by the late visionary  Vikram Sarabhai who was the founder of space program in India. He gave away his land for the development of institutes like PRL, ATIRA and IIMA. The new city was a relatively posh area with malls and multiplexes everywhere. The old city, however, was congested and had more traditional markets and historic structures. The class differences between the people living in new and old cities were apparent. There was a religious difference as well. Old city was primarily occupied by Muslims who are mainly small shop owners. The wealthy Gujarati business people, academics etc who were predominantly from Hindu and Jain communities were in the new city. The river Sabarmathi separates the two contrasting shades of Ahmedabad. 

I got a room in a quarters in the residential compound of PRL. This was situated in Navrangpura and IIM Ahmedabad was just opposite to our campus. The hostel life was lively and I met many people from all over India.  My seniors in the institute were welcoming and through them I became familiar with the whole PRL community. I was a project associate in the geological science division (GSDN). I had nothing to do with geology, but the method of dating old stones involved a lot of physics. I must say, I enjoyed learning new techniques. I didn’t had much difficulty in catching up with the subject and experimental procedure, again, thanks to the seniors. 

The experience of Ahmedabad was, of course, new since I had not lived in any metropolitan city. Moreover, I was financially independent. I could afford eating out in restaurants and go for movies. Though the pay was an average one compared to a private job, the daily expenses were marginal. The subsidized meal at PRL was Rs 5.50 only and the hostel meal was about Rs 30-s40. However, the world outside PRL was not so cheap. I still remember my shocking discovery of metropolitan expenses at a  multiplex theaters. Costly tickets and small screen felt like a rip off to me. I couldn’t digest the idea of  getting a water bottle for Rs 40  just because we were in a multiplex. But soon enough I got familiar and adjusted to the  city. I also had chance to go around to the  other places like Udaipur and Jaipur in Rajasthan. Ahmedabad is a good place to center on if you want to explore the western part of India. 

PRL was my gateway to the research world. A first hand experience on how things work in a research institution was a real eye opener. A year after, I cleared the PhD entrance test and joined as a student at PRL. I changed my subject to quantum optics and finished my PhD in 2016. Now I am a senior researcher at National university of Singapore.  This would have not been possible if PRL had not called me for the post of project fellow. Or if I had refused to quit my old job at Thiruvananthapuram fearing the HOD.  It is important to look back and see the choices you have made and its consequences.  Indeed, all cannot be the best ones. But his looking back can help you in the choices you make now. 

When I started writing this series 4 years ago, I was in Ahmedabad, full of content to write. But somehow I procrastinated the writing process and  now I  have forgotten most of it. Now the series name “remains of a city” has become more suitable since I am writing the incidents that stuck with me. The memories that remain are the ones probably  that matter. Let me finish this write-up for now. Thinking about the old times opens up the door of several memories. I guess I can give it a try for the series to move forward. The version may not be the real truth, it may be coated with my perception of it  while recalling it from the memory. But that is true for most of the story telling.   Its important to look back !