I mustered up all the strength in me to face the storm and run back to the clinic as fast as I could. I turned around and started running, holding on to my coat and the anesthetic. After what seemed like a run for eternity,I had still not reached that left turn that I had to make now to get back to the clinic. I kept running, assuming it was just the weather playing with my perception of time and distance. My hands were numb from carrying the bag in one and holding on to my coat with the other. My face seemed like it was going to freeze for posterity and I still kept running, the wrath of the storm getting worse with every minute. What was Nisha doing? Was she holding up while I took all this time to get back to her? I must get to her. I must not fall and bow to this storm. I must run faster. And I did, but it seemed never ending. I stopped to regain some breath and looked around me. There was nothing but tall fern trees on both sides. Nothing ahead of me, but a gravel dirt road, and the same road behind me. Where was I? In an epiphanic moment, I realized that I had headed in the wrong direction in my haste to get back to the clinic. How far had I gone the wrong way? Where was I? Why me? The realization hit me harder than the snow and with a much stronger force. All the strength in me seemed to have given away at that moment, and the last thing I recall is dropping the carpule of anesthetic on the floor, my face falling right beside it and laying there, my hand stretched out to the now rolling carpule of fluid.
************************************************

"Aaah, there! Welcome back to this side of the world!"
"Huh? Wh....What? Where ......where am I?" I looked up startled, searching for where the greeting had came from.
I was too exhausted to strain my neck and look around, so I just lay there in a trance trying to figure out whether this was all a dream or not. Just when I was about to dismiss my surroundings as the fabrication of my enervated brain and body, there was a movement to my right. I tried to turn my neck but it was rooted to the cot I was lying on; it was as if my frail frame was glued down to it. I tried again, and as if sensing my discomfort and curiosity, the voice that had greeted me took the form of a shadow that seemed to have stood up and was walking towards me. As the shadow became smaller, the "voice" drew closer, and for the first time in my state of languor I understood that this was a male figure walking towards me. He stopped by my side and bent over, bringing his hand down to me. In a reflex, I brushed it off which took all the energy that I had left.
"Was just checking your temperature ma'am."
The voice! It was a voice I had heard before, it was a dark husky voice. Where was I? Whose voice was this?
"Let me get some more warm towels for your forehead. Might as well make good use of the time you are awake and bring back all the energy and life in you"
Having said that, he walked out of the room which seemed to have no door; just an entrance from what looked like another world to me. My gaze lingered around the room and took in the meagre contents. A room definitely made of brick and cement, but dilapidated by age and the paint peeling off. There was a bench to the right where I assumed the man was sitting. There was no other furniture in the room save for the cot I was lying on and I spied a picture of Mataji on the wall right behind me. Maybe I was still alive because of her blessings. A god-fearing man? Hopefully, I was in safe hands. There was a tiny lamp burning on the wall behind the bench. I believe it was the sole source of light in the otherwise dark room. This room had no windows, no sunshine. A memory of the waiting room came to me in a flash, this room I was in was just like it. Shady. Where was sunshine?

To be continued.......

The drive to Raghavpur was a rickety one, the kind you would encounter enroute to the deep old rural parts of India. Nisha and I did not exchange any pleasantries besides "Would you like these chips?" and such idle talk. It was noon and the sun was supposed to be high up in the sky and yet it was dark as if twilight had already set in. I took a peek at the dark clouds in the sky and shuddered at the thought of wintry showers, especially when I was not assured of the strength of the antique taxi we were travelling in. Everything about this trip was shady, Nisha's pregnancy, the taxi driver with the long beard and dark cloak as if trying to hide his face, the taxi itself, and now the sky and even the weather. I did not have a good feeling about this, but then the cynical me never did have good feelings about anything in life.

After two silent deafening hours, the taxi came to an abrupt halt. "Pahoch gaye?" Nisha immediately looked out in query. "Hanji, Daacter Sahib ka clinc yaha se do minat ki doori par hai, aage gaadi jayegi nahi, paidal jaa sakte hai" that was the first and the last time I heard the husky voice of the driver. He had an accent, a North Indian accent but I could not figure out where he was from, Kanpur maybe? The drive cost Rs 200 and I was just glad Nisha was paying for it all. I was glad to provide my company as long as it did not involve me rummaging through my pockets. We walked over to Dr. Pascha's clinic. Prior calls had been made, and all arrangements were ready and done with. Dr. Pascha was a relatively short man at maybe around 5'2; short and thin. His tiny frame betrayed his age and took off atleast twenty years off him. Introductions were made and work was to be done right away. "Lets get started, shall we?" was the last I heard him say before Nisha followed him into the operating room. I sat outside the operating room in what seemed like a waiting room minus any sunshine, windows, and the door too seemed to have disappeared in the darkness. Everything about this trip was shady.

Just when I was about to doze off owing to sheer boredom, a girl who seemed like a nurse/assistant to me came running out with a piece of paper in her hands. "Here. This is a prescription for an anesthetic, Dr. Pascha thought he had enough, but he will need more. Go get some," she ordered. I just stood there rooted to my spot, not knowing where to go. "Hmm...where do I get this from?" I asked. "Go down to the end of this street, make a right and then go down to the end of that street, then make another right, and there is a chemist about three shops down on the left. He is the only one in this town, just tell him Dr. Pascha sent you and he will give this to you. No money needed. Now run off before your friend starts screaming of pain." Before I could think coherently, or even register what she had just told me, she was getting my coat and almost pushing me out the door. I stepped into the murky, chilly afternoon. The wind had picked up considerably and I was finding it hard to keep my coat and the piece of paper in my hand. How was I supposed to walk to the chemist and back in this weather? How far was the end of the street anyway? Not too far, I thought stretching my neck and eyes; the bend seemed just round the corner. I walked for what seemed like eternity towards the bend and to my very unpleasant surprise, it was a very sharp curve of the same street and there was a considerable amount of walking before I could reach the first right! Okay, this is for a friend I thought and kept going. I finally made the first right on to the street where I had to walk all the way down to make another right. There were houses and shops on both sides but the shutters were down, no one seemed to be alive. Halfway through that street, I heard someone call out "Oye! Ki kar rahi hai tu kudi? Barfile toofan se pehle gar laut jaa ni!" Before I could figure out who or what had called out, there was silence again save for the rustling of trees and the howling wind. I kept walking determined, it was just around the corner, fourth shop on the left. And just when I was about to make that second right, I felt a cold drop smear my face. I looked up. Rain? No! I need to make a dash for the chemist. And before I could think, the rain turned into snowflakes, and it did not take much time for the snow to come pouring down. I made a dash for the shop whose shutter were about to go down.

"Wait!" I screamed as loud as my larynx let me. "Wait!" The owner heard me and looked at me up and down. "Kya chahiye ladki? Dukaan bandh hai," he said in a distasteful tone. "Please, I have come from Dr.Pascha's clinic and I need this precription filled. Please meri madad kijiye" I almost fell at his feet begging. He took a quick look at the prescription, got the anesthetic in a paper bag and handed it to me. "Chalo abhi jaldi se bhaago, the storm will soon worsen, run before it gets too bad," he said pulling the shutters down. "But wait, koi rickshaw milegi?? How can I run in this weather? It is too far away." In reply to my question, he simply pulled the shutters all the way down. Was anyone in this place human? What was this place? Why was I here? What good did this do to me? I was left in a desolate little town with a snow storm brewing, left to walk all the way back to the clinic.

To be continued....

I was just like the rest of them. I dreamt about my knight in shining armour, a prince who would sweep me off my feet. And like the rest of them, I knew in my heart that even though I would one day meet the person I was to spend the rest of my life with, he wouldn't exactly be the picture perfect prince charming that I had fantasized about umpteen times.

And then, how exactly was one to know that this was it? How exactly is one supposed to figure out? It was during the winter of that year, that last year in high school. It was, trust me the best time one could have in a lifetime. There were no worries about paying for college, there were no worries about picking just the right career, there was just the right amount of stress that did not make life seem mundane, and there was just the right amount of free time to enjoy and indulge in the ruminations of being a teenager. There was Nisha, who was dating her fourth boyfriend in two years, then there was Amita, with her steady boyfriend of two years, and then there was me with my dates with Biology and Chemistry everynight. They never said anything to me, but I knew they often gossiped about how insipid I was, and discussed about how I would remain a spinster all my life. A part of it was true, but then again, it was not.

Winter was in full swing and the newspapers and weather channels were talking about an impending snowstorm. It never snowed in Sanchali. It was cold, yes it was, but it never snowed. Most veterans dismissed the warnings as the overindulgence of some weatherman who had nothing better to do during those January afternoons. I like the winters. Well, part of it is due to the fact that I sweat a lot in the summer months and go through 10 sticks of deodorant a week. And part of it due to the fact that I can hide my plump side off during these months under the covers of snazzy blazers and overcoats. But there is something else about the awakening winter chill in your face that has always made me prefer it over the summer. Amazingly this winter, I had all the more reason to like the season.

Nisha had been acting strange for a few days now. I dismissed it as PMS and did not put much effort into inquiring about her strange behavior. But the ever inquisitive Amita was to drag me into making small talk about Nisha over lunch. "Do you think she might be pregnant?", she asked me over a bite at the local fast food joint. I would have been debauched, had this come from someone other than Amita. She was the queen of unreticent and outspoken queries. "Hmm...I don't think so" was my listless reply. As if to prove me wrong as always, Nisha walked over and took a seat at our table, sat with her skirt showing off her gorgeous legs, legs and arms crossed, an exasperated expression on her face with hints of fear. Before we brought ourselves to say anything, Nisha started sobbing. A sob loud enough to convey her sorrow but soft enough to keep away from the ears of gossip mongers. Out came pouring the speel of her night of lust with her fourth boyfriend in two years and how inspite of having used protection she was pregnant.

Sanchali was a small town and word got around about who used the loo and when faster than you could blink your eye if you were not careful. Secrets did not exist in the town, and yet the three of us and ofcourse Nisha's fourth boyfriend in two years had managed to keep Nisha's pregnancy from becoming public knowledge. The two of them, Nisha and her fourth, okay you get it now, had decided that Nisha would go to Raghavpur, about twenty kilometers way from home, to the clinic of Dr. Pascha who would perform an abortion and take care of the matter. Nisha could not go with Raj, her fourth.... because they could not be "seen" together scuttling away like that, and Amita's boyfriend had forbidden her from accompanying her. So as much as Nisha hated to share her joys with me, she had not choice but to ask me. And as much as I hated accompanying her, I had no choice but to do so, thanks to my ever increasing efforts of trying to impress everybody. The day, the time, and the mode of tranportation were decided upon without my consultation ofcourse, and we set forth in a taxi towards Raghavpur.

To be continued. ....

Here we go.......I am not sure what I will write in this space, but as its URL says..it will be ardour..the ardour of love. Maybe ruminations of our daily lives, maybe less, maybe more. Who knows? For now, lets just call it a haven for what I have to say about us.