Blogger: Sojourner
Blog: http://sojournerspace.blogspot.com
A lightning flashed in the evening sky. A low rumbling thunder followed it from the clouds, a few seconds later. A small preview of the coming winter monsoon had just ended. The street lights had come on and the rain washed road formed a liquid canvas. The air smelled of the Earth even in this semi urban setting. It shall rain. It will fail all forecasts and pour down merrily on the Earth in a discontinuous chain of elemental symphony, for weeks. It will cleanse and feed and rule - mother Earth will wash her children. Thus he observed, as his breathing slowed down.
A small bulb ruled a few cubic feet of the space outside the café’s walls. It was starting to attract some swarming termites. He sat frozen in the shadow cast by the umbrella which covered the table. Only his out stretched hand was clearly visible. There was not much of a hint of the rest of his person. His eyes in the shadow were looking roughly at the hand and the orange it bore, intently, silently; with not a muscle moving. No one else was there to note the rhythm of his eyelids, or the lack of rhythm, as he steadily gazed. This place will open in the early morning again, in several hours. The lonely guard sat several feet away, staring into the heavens, leaning on his back in his chair, the chair placed against the guard shed. He looks hardly 20 yrs old. He was not moving either. The two bodies had become one with everything else on that street, part of the elements and connected through the elements - through the air, the earth and the water left by the drizzle and the few rays of light reflecting off everything and reaching everything else, carrying ethereal wordless messages in the late night blue gray and the street light yellow; for all, to be absorbed.
Rising up and gently floating away from the chair where I sat, I saw myself sitting there with the Orange in one hand under the umbrella. Looking at myself, I glided backwards and farther away. The world became bigger and bigger. The whole coffee house expanded into the view slowly. At far enough, from the middle of the road, the scene got itself a few tiny unobtrusive spots of dwarf street lights.
From where I was on the road, I saw myself sitting there… there is the fruit too. It is amazing how much I could see when I am not bound by my shell. Looking deeper, I see that I am looking at the fruit. I can see the tiny irregularities on the fruit’s outer layer. Some places yellow and some green... mostly orange. It has a soft and deep skin. Making my way through the acrid skin, I ended up in thin layer of white fiber which seems to have formed a complicated network which covers a thin transparent container that holds numerous tiny packets of sweetness. At the depths of these bags of nectar, there will be a few seeds of life. After reaching the innermost part, as if traveling back in time, but still moving forward, I re-encounter the seeds, then the countless rows of globules, the soft white fiber network and finally out through the protective skin and emerge on the other side... and what do I see? I saw a world much different from the side through which I entered the orange. Here is a car turning smoothly at the far end of the curve. It did not slow down to take the turn for it was already moving along quite slowly. It gently swept a wide arc at the turn and the head light traced a curve that cut across the orange and went back into the street to glare up the rain water.
Hovering in the middle of the road, I turned to look at the car. Ignoring the excess rays of light, I could sense the person driving the car: the eye must be carelessly focused and looking straight at me and through me… looking farther away. I saw myself sitting on one side of the road, devoted to the orange. Sitting there, I did not seem to mind the sound of the car at the end of the street. The car is getting closer; I can feel the eyes of the driver getting more intense… or may be it is the passenger?
….
Looking at the dash board, I saw that we were not driving fast. My spectacles got smeared with the rain water while I was waiting to be picked up. With every little movement of the car and even my breathing, a cold, fuzzed, molten image of the meters was doodled as glowing little arrows and circles and letters, all of red, all skewed and incomprehensible; like paintings taking shape. Looking up, I saw that the street was lined with short buildings and even shorter street lamp posts. The repetitive gray and yellow pattern of the night road was broken by the shop and its tiny lamp swarming with termites. The insects had risen from the ground to celebrate the coming rains. Could they not wait till it rained more? Don't they know to wait longer and wait for the torrential rains to set in more fully? Who is that man, sitting there like a statue? And the guard seems to be mesmerized by the sky.
The street looked deserted and there in the middle of the completely empty road, a small hazy thin white shape stretched and we were nearing it. Is it a reflection on the smudged and smeared glass? I took it off. I turned to the side, as we neared the cafe - A cold spot swept through me as the car neared the statue man who was holding an... an Orange in his hand! I felt his eyes. Not on me, for I could not see him, but I felt his look in my eyes, the very depths of it. I involuntarily shuddered and the hair on the back of my neck pricked. I turned quickly to look to the front and the white figure was now materializing itself. I squinted and rubbed my eyes: It was a set of markings on the road. I rubbed my arms and I felt warmed again as soon as we went past the café and moved further down the street. I could not break the sculpted image of that person… all that eerie gray and then the strikingly illuminated Orange! I felt cold again.
…
Hovering at the white mark in the middle of the road, I saw that, the car fell in the line of sight of my eyes, sitting there frozen in the seat. The fruit in the hand was too low and far to eclipse the car: I was boring my eyes into the windshield at the side, past the glare of the headlight. As the car neared the place where I sat, it had to pass through the vacant plot of land by the side of the café. That allowed a distant lightning to slant through and illuminate the long wet hair and spectacles of the passenger. The glare from the lightning hid the eye of the passenger. I was staring relentlessly. The lightning died and the car was passing the vacant plot and got illuminated by one of the street lights. My unmoving eyes met the eyes of the passenger. I noted my frozen smile in the relative darkness where I sat, as she shuddered. I caught a glimpse of her rubbing her neck and the eyes and warm her arms as she passed through me, looking straight at the road. She will have no protection after this place, this road right at the end of the suburbs. A few moments passed for the Proton Savvy’s tail lights to disappear at the other end of the street. Laughing at myself who was sitting across at the cafe, I evaporated from the middle of the road.
I stood up from the chair, body and mind, and walked towards the middle of the road to see how much it had rained. The white mark was clean by now, as pristine as it can be after a year. The rains have come early this winter. I remember the day when they marked this, about a year ago, the day when I discovered this café, the day when I had accidentally taken an extra orange from an old fruit vendor while I was bargaining the price with him. He was making good business that day. I sat here and had wondered what to do about the unintentional shop lifting, as the road workers were marking the line on the road. It was already late in the evening when I made up my mind and ran to find him again by the side of the road a little further away. He was not there. The next day, I went to him. I explained to him that I had taken it by accident and wanted to return the fruit to him and that I did not want him by any chance to think that I stole it. I tried to hand him the fruit and that is when I realized something: It was in no condition for someone to buy it again. The fruit was all squashed. I had kept it in my rain coat and traveled in a bus. I could not help but smile. He smiled at me and asked me how old I was. I told that I am 23. No. I must have said 22. It was last year. He said, “Next time, just eat the Orange and pay me the Ringgits its worth when you come here again… …By the way, nice to meet you.” he said with a smile, “Would you like to buy some Orange?”
May be I will walk down there to his little shop now and see if he is still selling any Limau for the day... or may be I will buy Apples this time… they have a different internal structure.
I waved my hand in the direction of the guard.
“Selamat malam”, he waved back at me.
“Jumpa lagi!”, I started walking.
I walked past the vacant plot by the side of the café. I almost dropped the orange in my hand as the cold wind hit my skin. I shuddered and pulled my black coat tight. I am sure, by now, the kid in the car would have raised her wind shield. She won’t miss seeing anything because the scenic valley will be too dark by now. Light goes out early on this side of the mountain.
PS: I chose the “Car’s Dashboard Display” image initially… but guess now more of the images can fit into the story.
Blog: http://sojournerspace.blogspot.com
A lightning flashed in the evening sky. A low rumbling thunder followed it from the clouds, a few seconds later. A small preview of the coming winter monsoon had just ended. The street lights had come on and the rain washed road formed a liquid canvas. The air smelled of the Earth even in this semi urban setting. It shall rain. It will fail all forecasts and pour down merrily on the Earth in a discontinuous chain of elemental symphony, for weeks. It will cleanse and feed and rule - mother Earth will wash her children. Thus he observed, as his breathing slowed down.
A small bulb ruled a few cubic feet of the space outside the café’s walls. It was starting to attract some swarming termites. He sat frozen in the shadow cast by the umbrella which covered the table. Only his out stretched hand was clearly visible. There was not much of a hint of the rest of his person. His eyes in the shadow were looking roughly at the hand and the orange it bore, intently, silently; with not a muscle moving. No one else was there to note the rhythm of his eyelids, or the lack of rhythm, as he steadily gazed. This place will open in the early morning again, in several hours. The lonely guard sat several feet away, staring into the heavens, leaning on his back in his chair, the chair placed against the guard shed. He looks hardly 20 yrs old. He was not moving either. The two bodies had become one with everything else on that street, part of the elements and connected through the elements - through the air, the earth and the water left by the drizzle and the few rays of light reflecting off everything and reaching everything else, carrying ethereal wordless messages in the late night blue gray and the street light yellow; for all, to be absorbed.
Rising up and gently floating away from the chair where I sat, I saw myself sitting there with the Orange in one hand under the umbrella. Looking at myself, I glided backwards and farther away. The world became bigger and bigger. The whole coffee house expanded into the view slowly. At far enough, from the middle of the road, the scene got itself a few tiny unobtrusive spots of dwarf street lights.
From where I was on the road, I saw myself sitting there… there is the fruit too. It is amazing how much I could see when I am not bound by my shell. Looking deeper, I see that I am looking at the fruit. I can see the tiny irregularities on the fruit’s outer layer. Some places yellow and some green... mostly orange. It has a soft and deep skin. Making my way through the acrid skin, I ended up in thin layer of white fiber which seems to have formed a complicated network which covers a thin transparent container that holds numerous tiny packets of sweetness. At the depths of these bags of nectar, there will be a few seeds of life. After reaching the innermost part, as if traveling back in time, but still moving forward, I re-encounter the seeds, then the countless rows of globules, the soft white fiber network and finally out through the protective skin and emerge on the other side... and what do I see? I saw a world much different from the side through which I entered the orange. Here is a car turning smoothly at the far end of the curve. It did not slow down to take the turn for it was already moving along quite slowly. It gently swept a wide arc at the turn and the head light traced a curve that cut across the orange and went back into the street to glare up the rain water.
Hovering in the middle of the road, I turned to look at the car. Ignoring the excess rays of light, I could sense the person driving the car: the eye must be carelessly focused and looking straight at me and through me… looking farther away. I saw myself sitting on one side of the road, devoted to the orange. Sitting there, I did not seem to mind the sound of the car at the end of the street. The car is getting closer; I can feel the eyes of the driver getting more intense… or may be it is the passenger?
….
Looking at the dash board, I saw that we were not driving fast. My spectacles got smeared with the rain water while I was waiting to be picked up. With every little movement of the car and even my breathing, a cold, fuzzed, molten image of the meters was doodled as glowing little arrows and circles and letters, all of red, all skewed and incomprehensible; like paintings taking shape. Looking up, I saw that the street was lined with short buildings and even shorter street lamp posts. The repetitive gray and yellow pattern of the night road was broken by the shop and its tiny lamp swarming with termites. The insects had risen from the ground to celebrate the coming rains. Could they not wait till it rained more? Don't they know to wait longer and wait for the torrential rains to set in more fully? Who is that man, sitting there like a statue? And the guard seems to be mesmerized by the sky.
The street looked deserted and there in the middle of the completely empty road, a small hazy thin white shape stretched and we were nearing it. Is it a reflection on the smudged and smeared glass? I took it off. I turned to the side, as we neared the cafe - A cold spot swept through me as the car neared the statue man who was holding an... an Orange in his hand! I felt his eyes. Not on me, for I could not see him, but I felt his look in my eyes, the very depths of it. I involuntarily shuddered and the hair on the back of my neck pricked. I turned quickly to look to the front and the white figure was now materializing itself. I squinted and rubbed my eyes: It was a set of markings on the road. I rubbed my arms and I felt warmed again as soon as we went past the café and moved further down the street. I could not break the sculpted image of that person… all that eerie gray and then the strikingly illuminated Orange! I felt cold again.
…
Hovering at the white mark in the middle of the road, I saw that, the car fell in the line of sight of my eyes, sitting there frozen in the seat. The fruit in the hand was too low and far to eclipse the car: I was boring my eyes into the windshield at the side, past the glare of the headlight. As the car neared the place where I sat, it had to pass through the vacant plot of land by the side of the café. That allowed a distant lightning to slant through and illuminate the long wet hair and spectacles of the passenger. The glare from the lightning hid the eye of the passenger. I was staring relentlessly. The lightning died and the car was passing the vacant plot and got illuminated by one of the street lights. My unmoving eyes met the eyes of the passenger. I noted my frozen smile in the relative darkness where I sat, as she shuddered. I caught a glimpse of her rubbing her neck and the eyes and warm her arms as she passed through me, looking straight at the road. She will have no protection after this place, this road right at the end of the suburbs. A few moments passed for the Proton Savvy’s tail lights to disappear at the other end of the street. Laughing at myself who was sitting across at the cafe, I evaporated from the middle of the road.
I stood up from the chair, body and mind, and walked towards the middle of the road to see how much it had rained. The white mark was clean by now, as pristine as it can be after a year. The rains have come early this winter. I remember the day when they marked this, about a year ago, the day when I discovered this café, the day when I had accidentally taken an extra orange from an old fruit vendor while I was bargaining the price with him. He was making good business that day. I sat here and had wondered what to do about the unintentional shop lifting, as the road workers were marking the line on the road. It was already late in the evening when I made up my mind and ran to find him again by the side of the road a little further away. He was not there. The next day, I went to him. I explained to him that I had taken it by accident and wanted to return the fruit to him and that I did not want him by any chance to think that I stole it. I tried to hand him the fruit and that is when I realized something: It was in no condition for someone to buy it again. The fruit was all squashed. I had kept it in my rain coat and traveled in a bus. I could not help but smile. He smiled at me and asked me how old I was. I told that I am 23. No. I must have said 22. It was last year. He said, “Next time, just eat the Orange and pay me the Ringgits its worth when you come here again… …By the way, nice to meet you.” he said with a smile, “Would you like to buy some Orange?”
May be I will walk down there to his little shop now and see if he is still selling any Limau for the day... or may be I will buy Apples this time… they have a different internal structure.
I waved my hand in the direction of the guard.
“Selamat malam”, he waved back at me.
“Jumpa lagi!”, I started walking.
I walked past the vacant plot by the side of the café. I almost dropped the orange in my hand as the cold wind hit my skin. I shuddered and pulled my black coat tight. I am sure, by now, the kid in the car would have raised her wind shield. She won’t miss seeing anything because the scenic valley will be too dark by now. Light goes out early on this side of the mountain.
PS: I chose the “Car’s Dashboard Display” image initially… but guess now more of the images can fit into the story.
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