The Moment by Aniruddha Bose

Author:Aniruddha Bose [Bose, Aniruddha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789382303268
Publisher: Smriti Publishers
Published: 2014-11-14T18:30:00+00:00

Seventh Letter

Dearest Kasturi

At last we reached Bhimtal of Mahabharata!

Bhimtal, in the Kumaon Himalayas, named after Bhima of Mahabharata is an ancient place. Bhimeshwara Mahadev Temple, an old Shiva temple on the banks of Bhimtal Lake, is believed to have been built when Bhima visited the place during the banishment of the Pandavas. Baz Bahadur, then raja of Kumaon, a king of the Chand 27 dynasty, built the temple. The present one was modified in the 17th century. Bhimtal has been a stoppage for the travellers of the region from hills to plains.

Although the distance from Bhowali to Bhimtal is about 11 km, the road being a difficult one, it took an hour to reach there. We needed a warm bath.

The driver asked “Kahan 28 ?”

“Sonolith Resort on Mandir Marg” I informed.

I asked you to sit in the lobby with the luggage, while I checked in. I didn’t want to disclose my identity.

“Name?” the receptionist asked.

On hearing it, he said, “Of course! You’re from the press. Your editor rang up our owner. A luxury cottage is reserved for you. You’re supposed to reach yesterday. What happened?”

“A slight problem on the way” I didn’t want to divulge the details.

The receptionist turned to the bellboy “Luxury cottage No 2” Turning to me he said, “Sir, your food and lodging is complimentary from our end. A car is at your disposal. Just call the reception when you need. Take rest. Our owner will meet you later”

On entering the room, I saw all your fatigue disappear, as you gauged the lodging. Probably you were wondering, how we could afford this luxury. I kept my identity in darkness, adding to the thrill of the trip.

Seeing you dumbfound, I said, “Who goes first to the toilet ?”

Without leaving an alternative, you picked your necessities from your luggage and dashed off to the loo. The call of nature was prime than explanations.

You were perhaps swinging between dream and reality, which entailed imprisoning our dreams, like a soaring bird, in its endless quest for an abode. Had it ever occurred to you, our miseries are allied to an on-going tussle between dreams and reality? The torrent of events in our lives is mere separation of our perception of time. This dissociation diminishes with age and finally stops, as we wither into the only truth.

You emerged with your bathrobe drying your half-wet untied hair with your towel. The day’s weariness was ebbing. Without the greasepaint, I cherished your untouched beauty, as I have always fantasized, in my deepest desires.

“You can order breakfast from the room service, while I freshen up” I said.

You were standing pensive on the veranda beholding the horizon, drowned in your own thoughts.

“Wouldn’t prefer to rest?” I asked, not finding you in the room.

“This looks like a plush resort. I’m an ordinary woman”

“Who gave you the impression I’m any different? You cannot adjudicate a bond within the confines of class distinction. The term is the societal way of distinction amidst its linearity of past, present and the future.

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