Crest and trough

....Because, life travels in sine waves. On a Monday after a Sunday, I came up with a post which defines, how. Snapshots of such uphills and downhills from real life incidents :

1. Walking, with something heavy on the mind and the eyes glued to the pavement. Suddenly, the daylight changes color. A gust of dust whirls around, the light changes from sun-like to mellow orange. A smile, the first time during the day and looking up in anticipation of rain.

Discovery of walking beneath a yellow tarpaulin of a building under renovation.

2. "Missed call. 3 PM sharp. Cordless-tar pashe thakish." (Stay beside the cordless phone)
    "Maa ghumole tobe to! Kintu kikore bujhbo tumi?" (Only if mum's asleep! But how do I know it's you?)
    "Duu baar duu to ring kore kete debo. Third time tulish." (I shall ring twice and disconnect the call. Receive the third time).
.
.
.
.
.
3.02 PM by the wall clock.
Bleep-bleep. Bleep-bleep. Silence.
 *Lub-dub-lub-dub*

Bleep-bleep. Bleep-bleep. Silence.
*Lub-dub-lub-dub*

Bleep-ble...
 "Bawlo, jaan."(Yes, my love.) (*butterflies*)
"Kay bolchhen? Eta ki 248****2?" (Who is this? Is this 248****2?)
"Errmm..hyan...." (Well...yes...)
"Line chalu achhe didi? Testing cholchhe..." (Is your line working fine, miss? The testing is on....)
"......."
"Hya-low?" (Hello?)
"Hyan ok..." (Yes, OK)
--Sharp Click-- (*butterflies-turn-cocoons*)

3. Michael makes excellent Chinese. His garlic chicken is to die for. Many such deaths had been died. And yet another day, the office dabba (packed lunch) was returned untouched, such was the beckoning.
12.30PM. Michael is seen setting up his stall. In a second, Camac Street evaporates and Michael is the sole being in the eye of the beholder.
But the stall looks somewhat different. Same utensils, same stack of paper-boxes, same umbrella, same crowd. Yet different.
"Dada..ekta fried...." (Bro, one fried..)
"Madam aaj shudhu momo aar mixed veg" (Madam, only momo and mixed vegetables are available for today) (*apologetic smile*)
" ? "
"Chheletar jawr, madam" (The boy has fever)

(*bulb lights up*)
 Missing : The black wok atop the stove.
And the boy, who was never noticed before.

4. He was waiting at the station for the home-bound train, when it was declared cancelled. The downpour intensified, the inquiry room shutters were down, internet was jammed.
He called her. She was heartbroken, as their last movie before the wedding, was off.
Next day.
The last Friday before her wedding break. She was sending out some last pending emails, when his number flashed across the screen. Heavily, she asked him what would he cook for lunch, stranded in a flood-struck area. How she wished, she could boil some rice, potatoes and eggs for him.
"Do something. Chhata achhe?" (Do you have an umbrella?)
He could feel her lips curving into a smile, and then a grin on the other side of silence.
"Nichey. Taratari." (Downstairs. Fast.)

She missed her movie. Instead, she got one.





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