On The Shores of North Atlantic...

Here is a fictional piece in which I try to transcend space-time and reality-fanatasy. Have fun!
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Somewhere on the shores of North Atlantic, nestled by palms, soothed by a balmy salt-laden wind, I sat staring into the ocean. It was the middle of the night. Eerie silence punctuated by waves were my company and cannabis was slaughtering my tiring senses and brain. I took another hit.

The grass tasted like the ocean – pure, unadulterated and salty. I felt the sweat on my brow, took a whiff of air, closed my eyes and held my breath; thats when I began hallucinating......

I heard a young boy hawking chick peas in the distance. The voice approached.

“Anna anna, sundal venuma?”

I looked up to him. He wore a patched shirt and red shorts – obviously pass me downs. His hair was combed and a streak of neatly applied ash lit his forehead.

I took another hit.

I turned to my side.

“Do you want sundal?” I enquired caringly. She smiled her effervescent smile and that took to me another place and time altogether.

June of 1994. I was a late admit into SBOA.I was all of fourteen then - cat whiskers were just sprouting, oozing pimples bursting, with a voice of a toad-prince. I was assigned X standard ‘A’ section. I entered the class, beaming in my new uniform and made my way to the only available seat at the very back of the class. I put my bag down and looked up. There she was, flashing her smile. I was in love.

“No” she said.

“Venda thambi”

With a look of disappointment, he walked away to the next couple – a young girl with bright red half-saree and his lover, a well built fisherman in his early twenties. I wondered why I was so captivated by red?

My colleague, shocked by the sudden outburst in alien tongue, tapped me on the shoulder and asked - “You doing alrite there G-man?”

I nodded and smiled. Took another hit. Turned around and saw her gazing softly into my eyes. The same look she had when I first summoned the guts to talk to her. It was just another balmy Madras afternoon. I had just gotten back after a chat with my class teacher. On my way out, the teacher had asked me to send JD in.

Thrilled and excited I ran into the class. She was there surrounded by her group of friends (who had to be ugly, and their ugliness, in turn made JD look even more angelic). I counted 1-2 and slowed my pace down. I went to her spot, cleared my throat.

“Ahem”.

She looked up calmly. Her friend wasn’t too pleased.

“The class teacher wants to see you” I blurted.

The admonishment in her friends eye was evident. It said “Get away from her, you hormone sweating bastard”. I ignored it.

She nodded, smiled and got up. I made my way back to my seat in the back bench trying desparetly to control my heart(it beat so fast, that I thought it would race out of my body)!

I took another hit. Smelled the air again, and was transformed back to the shores of Marina. The scent of millaga bajji was wafting gently in the air. The dull scraping of steel spoons brushing against steel, roasting hapless peanuts in the process, added to the music of the waves.

Her palm was in my palm. When did I first touch her? I asked her the same.

“Don’t you remember? It was after we won the quiz tournament. You answered the tie-breaker and we won. I was over-joyed and had turned to congrajulate you. You just wouldn’t let go of my hands” she teased.

Oh yes. It was coming back to me. I remembered the first touch when the time had stopped. I blushed.

She noticed it. But being, such a nice girl she was, she pooh-poohed it with a serene look.

I took another hit.

I turned to look at her eyes. Such serenity, such calm, such purity. My mind raced back in time again.

It was just before December holidays. The girls had apparently decided to have a “Bra day”. What bad timing! It was just before the exams. The bra-enhanced exam anxiety showed. They were fidgety. Some stole quick glances before adjusting their cones (no Victoria’ Secrets then), and some wheren’t that discreet. But JD sat there calmly, like Buddha, with the same serene look. I fell in love again, albeit with the same person.

I took another hit.

I closed my eyes and lay back, acutely aware of her eyes watching me. I should have fallen asleep under the star-ladden Puerto Rican skies.

A little later, a tap on the shoulder woke me. I realized where I was and also realized that my brain had won over cannabis. I detested my brain whole-heartedly( the supreme irony of brain hating brain!)

“Its time to go back, G-man” said my colleague. And off we went, as united as a bunch of pot-heads could be, to our rooms to a beautiful dreamless sleep.