Symphony of Love………….In Under 20 minutes

7 : 30 pm.

The sight of the shimmering lights and smoke across the muggy city,as tired as him after a day’s work,made him wince.He sighed,adjusted his posture and asked himself to smile to shake the fatigue off himself.The lady sitting next to her gave her a curious look,tinged with intrigue and smugness,as if smoking an ultra mild cigarette made her an irresistible Goddess from some alternate dimension.He ignored her,which,given her unsightly and nauseatingly gaudy appearance,was quite an easy endeavour.

An angry red gash across the sky flashed at a distance,illuminating the stoic realm of concrete in all its nakedness.No rains for him tonight,however.He could tell this simply by looking at the clouds.He wasn’t complaining though.Kindness,these days,made him uneasy.The feeling of being comfortably numb never seemed like such an enticing,cozy nest to him before.He took out his thought journal from his briefcase – empty.Symbolism is such a bitch sometimes,he mused.

Earlier when he used to look at people,they meant a billion different stories to him.Stories,which he wanted to tell at some point,or to be a part of.Now they were mere objects of annoyance to him,telling him that in the game of his own life,he has somehow slipped into the character of a pawn,and to his own horror has started liking it.When he had read The Catcher in the Rye for the first time,he hated the whiny,eternally frustrated protagonist Holden in spite of the beautiful arc of the “fallen” and the “catcher” which revolved around his debatable maturation through the length of the novel.He wasn’t just that sure anymore.Weakness is not a choice,but an inevitable lesson for everyone.His time for being a protege was right there and then- he might as well give himself to it,shouldn’t he,he found himself asking the question.

That worried him.Getting too close to his real feelings had become a daunting prospect for him.He quickly fished out his Blackberry and logged in to his facebook account.Simultaneously he checked his call/text log in the notification area.

7 notifications.The addict in him got his reward for not checking his phone every five minutes.He smiled inwardly,and scrolled through the list of the notifications.

6 : 05 pm. Text message from Kanika.

He won’t talk to me,Mayank.All I wanted was to give him his portrait i got painted last week.Strangely,I don’t feel anything else.It’s like a neat,check-mark to our story-we are done.

Also,i wont be coming to the theatre for rest of the week.Please convey the same to Baasu Da.For some reason his number is unreachable.

‘So.it’s over.Aarav is not coming back.If only this girl could separate her roles on stage from her life ! If only she could love reality as much as she loves herself !! If only she knew where to draw the line,to stop her life as an actor from taking over her entire being ! Aarav was the best man she would ever get,the only one who saw how incapable she was of experiencing real emotions,of living a life which was truly hers  –   and still loved her.God,why couldnt she cry when he came to say goodbye ? ” He reflected,vigorously shaking his head.This made the lady stare at him again,this time with obvious disdain.

The bus had reached his stop by then.He started getting out of his seat,but paused for a while and looked squarely at the lady.

” You guys get reservations in public transport,don’t you ? Why ? So that you can burn the buses down all the while reading that it’s forbidden to smoke in here ? And whom are you doing a favour by gulping this toxic fire down your lungs ?”

The lady,visibly scandalisedand shocked,choked on the smoke.Before she could blurt out something as vitriolic as her facial expression,she started shaking with a coughing fit.And rage.

Mayank got out out of the bus leaving her caught in the tendrils of the smoke around her.He began to cross the road,checking his phone again.

Screeeeeechhhhhhh……!!! An autorickshaw stopped inches away from him.The driver gave him an angry look,as if complaining about the fact that Mayank was still alive after rankling him with his obtuse recklessness.He neither had the energy nor the will to bother with another confrontation,hence he returned the driver’s look with an indifferent one and moved on to the other side of the road,pretending to be engrossed in something urgent on his phone .

6 : 15 pm. Missed call from Nayan.

‘She called ? Why ? Did she need anything? Has she sensed something ?’ He wondered.A rush of seething memories came upon him unawares.A dream…..she was there.He was touching her……..drowning in her breath.And then that one touch when she was buttoning his shirt because Natasha was in the bathroom.That felt wrong,but exciting first.But he never did or could act……he knew…he shouldn’t even be thinking about it.He did feel that way though,to be sure and exactly when he stooped that low he could not recall.That was just once,he consoled himself,desperate to rationalize what he had felt.He quickly tapped the next notification and it opened as a text message.

6 : 17 pm. Text message from Archna.

You have to talk to Natasha.She has gone way too far.It has been three months and she refuses to do anything about her job.They have already sent three letters,the next one would positively be a dismissal note if this goes on.She has lost interest in herself,Mayank.The other day I noticed her wearing the same gown for four days and I pointed it out to her.She just smiled at me absent-mindedly and went on with whatever she was doing.It’s almost likes she is treating Aniruddh’s illness as the badge of her ultimate failure.You remember how protective you were about Nayan when Natasha had just come into your life ? And this is Aniruddha we are talking about,the only living soul she loves more than you.Do something before her self-loathing and low self-esteem take her as well as Aniruddha down.For Christ’s sake,the child is barely 11 months old !! Talk to her and then get back to me.I will be waiting.

‘Wretched woman ! She thinks that she loves her sister more than I love my wife !!’ This annoyed Mayank until the truth dawned on him.He had been neglecting Natasha.Whe was the last time he made love to her or held her in his arms like he used to ? He saw her fall deeper and deeper into the abyss of depression Aniruddha’s malady meant for her and chose to ignore her.Heck,that must not have been personal though.He had been ignoring himself,to begin with.But he was in love with Natasha once,wasn’t he ? Truly.Madly.Deeply.He had turned into half a person after the death of his first wife.He quit  his job as a lecturer and joined a local theatre exactly five months after Meher died.Natasha walked out on her husband to marry him a year later.Now the two one-legged people were trying to walk together and failing miserably at that.The taste was more bitter because when they were falling in love they had forgotten that they were with the disability before they came to each other – now the only comfort left to them was blame.And resentment.An easy game this one,thought Mayank.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds,standing under the flyover from where he was to board a taxi.A gentle,cool wind had started blowing as the evening gracefully handed over the reins to a serene moonlight.He opened his eyes once he felt a bit better.

6 : 20 pm. Text message from Shaurya.

Where the hell are you ? Tried calling you twice.Romit called me after you left.He says………he won’t be getting back.That he can only think of his life without me now !! How could he do that to me ? How could he deny me the right to hold his hand,to love him,to walk him out of this tragedy ? Should the end of one life spell the same for all other relationships ? And then he hangs up by saying that he loves me ! Fuck his love ! I want him,and not these bloody words !!Call me back when you see this.

He scrolled down further to read the next one.

6 : 25 pm. Text message from Romit.

Mayank,I want you to do me a favour.Please explain to Shaurya why I can never make it back to the city and help him forget me.You are the only one close enough to him to do that.You will never know the horror,the surreality of listening to your father’s last words as everyone in the family looks at you with a disconsolate helplessness(and I truly wish that you never do).He never was the father I wanted him to be but only because it was really difficult for him to accept that I would never be the man he wanted me to be.The love I always craved from him awaits me in the form of the family he has left me to look after.I can not lose that love again.Yes,I am a craven,a spineless creature weighing and comparing Shaurya’s love against my family’s.And here I am.Lost.Defeated.Shattered.I have chosen my family because Shaurya will still be loved without me there.You will assure me on that count,won’t you ? Tell him that I have loved him like he was the only one I ever knew,and that is how it always will be.

A strange fancy took him in its hold as he finished reading the text and he started smiling.Without flicking through the rest of the notifications,he locked his phone and put it into his pocket.Drawing three big cross marks in his head,he shook his head.’This ends here’,he muttered to himself.Love doesn’t have to be this difficult,nor happiness this painful.

He walked over to the nearest taxi and asked the driver if he would take him to Orion shopping mall.As he was negotiating the fare,a small girl grabbed hold of his shirt asking for loose change.For the first time in his life,Mayank found that gesture cute.He turned to the girl,sporting a huge grin and lovingly ruffled her hair.The girl,slightly abashed,started giggling sweetly.He gave her a five rupee coin and got into the taxi.The girl kept waving at the taxi until it swerved around a corner and disappeared into the huge sea of callous,cold traffic lost in its own rage and rush.

After a minute,he texted the director of the theatre he worked at,telling him that Kanika won’t be coming for the rest of the week and he for the rest of his life.He could barely stop himself from breaking into guffaws as he imagined the look on the poor guy’s face when he would read the text.May be this was worth it for that alone.He had to call Natasha before he reached the mall though.He dialled her number and soon found himself humming along with the caller tune…

Zindagi do pal ki………..

Zindagi do pal ki………..

Intezaar kab tak ham karenge bhalaa….

Tumhe pyaar kab tak na karenge bhalaa……

ADDENDUM : There is beauty,only beauty,and nothing else.Taking pictures is savoring life intensely, every hundredth of a second.And yet the best part of beauty is that which no picture can expresss.Walking in rains,falling in love,winning a dart game ,getting cozy around a January bonfire – that’s all there is.Embrace life,kiss passionately and pick up your moments of awesomeness !! La vie est une célébration !!

#1 High-fiving babies

#2 Finally getting that annoying bit of popcorn out of your teeth

# 3 When someone lands on a hotel you just built in monopoly

#4  Fixing electronics by smacking them

#5  Bakery air in early spring

#6  The final seconds of untangling a really complicated knot

#7  The friendly nod between strangers out doing the same thing

#8  Old folks who sit on their porch and wave at you when you walk by

#9  Staring at deep,calm water

#10 Getting the eyelash out of your eye

# 11 When you arrive at your destination just as a great song ends on the radio/music player

#12  Talking about how much the meal you are having at home would cost in a restaurant

#13 The feeling when the love of your life arranges a surprise for you after a fight

#14  Lying in bed and listening to the sound of rain from inside the tent

#15 Catching somebody singing in their car and sharing a laugh with them

#16 When you manage to squeeze out enough toothpaste for one last brush

#17 When you hear someone’s smile over the phone

#18 Remembering what movie that guy is from

#19 A hug from someone who always makes things right for you

#20 Crying freely

Silhouette

Subrato

 

When the first drop of the drizzle hit Subrato,he almost couldn’t feel it.His thoughts were muddled up and hazy like the eddies swirling and crossing each other in the deep,dark waters of River Hooghly flowing and extending endlessly in front of him.If only he knew how to understand the language the river spoke or why he wanted it to speak to him,may be the empty,crushing feeling in his stomach would go away.The river had always been his escape,his last refuge from reality ; sometimes from himself.Through all the fourty winters he had seen or an equal number of autumns he had hated religiously,this river was the single most stable element of constancy,of sanity.It never stopped enchanting him by its mundane manoeuvres like its gushing,bickering passage through the overgrown mangroves and algae along the eastern bank or the submergence of all the surrounding fields and Chaurs when the monsoons would come rushing down with the vigour of a child at his favourite game and wash away what had been another year of memories,lives and stories.The earthy aroma emanating from the shores when summer was about to kiss the land or the miniature paper dingies which the kids would put down the flow with heavenly smiles and surreal glow on their rain-drenched faces did something to Subrato.They made him feel alive,and like a crucial link in the grand scheme of things,a part of all that existed and all that would.The heat from the hand-charki or the aarti flowing back on his face during Kali Pujo and the reflection of million such lights in the river was a memory which never faded in his mind,neither did the Ooli,the chants,the Gulal and the bitter sweet ambience on the day of Bisorjan after the Durga Pujo.

And then that one Pujo night which changed who he was and how he saw the world or bizarrely,the other way around.As he sat down on one of the steps leading down to the agitated river,he closed his eyes.A cold,oddly familiar gust of wind whipped the rain against his face and reminded him of the absurdity of asking her to meet him here in the first place.He wasn’t exactly getting any younger and the river was not going to do what he had to anyway.The cold rain,the stinging wind and the ache within him were too much for a man his age.Or may be he just didn’t have it in him anymore.But if there was one thing in him which was a fossil of his former self,it was his perseverance.Misplaced stubbornness,his heart pointed out.Say something for Subrato,say he never wavered from going for what he wanted and believed in.Even as the elder son of a family without a father or the brother to a sister whose dreams were larger than all their lives,he never gave up for a minute of his austere existence.But sway he did,after all.

In retrospect,Subrato would mostly blame it on her eyes.Sadly,a fact that meant that she was only her ocean blue eyes to him because even after all his futile and excruciatingly taxing tries,he could not and did not see her as someone mortal,someone like him or Shamoli,or Maa.But if she were one,wouldn’t she be here now in his arms; her tender touches benumbing his face to the sensation of the raindrops ? He could remember the exact degree of glimmer in her eyes when she had first blurted out someting about his detached beauty,a charm that was not to be touched when he was teaching Shamoli how to fly kites just so that he could observe her closely.That was the closest they got,until that night of the Bisorjan.Subrato tasted bile in his throat as he recalled the gloom and sourness which had shadowed his being that wretched night- Shamoli had openly called him a failure,a pathetic sorry figure who was just trying to make all their lives miserable because he had none of his own left.Worse still,Maa had kept mum all along.So,basically,all his life devoted to his family was the only source of their misery.Fair enough ! Rage and shattered pieces of his identity and purpose were keeping him restless and in an agony which he had only felt at the demise of his father or his subsequent dropping out from his college.Never in his worst nightmares had he seen that or this night coming to him.And then he saw what he thought was his only hope of sanity and survival – She had come down to ask if he had had his dinner or not as Maa and Shamoli were out for the Bisorjan.Like a soul demented and tortured for eternities,he ran for his escape.And in a flash,pinned her down on his bed.She was flabbergasted,raw fear,disgust and confusion replacing each other on her face in a dance of harmony.

He never got to the rage in her eyes or her bewildered,pleading screams because he could not,did not look at her eyes.That would have made it impossible.In some alternate version of reality,he saw her coming to him and meeting his animalistic and ardent cravings to perfection.As he lowered his body on hers,and she hit him with the lampshade for his bed,his eyes met her eyes.The pain,the trauma,the madness in there was haunting and he wanted to end it.He wanted to take her in his strong,able arms and comfort her ; to tell her that it would be okay.But that was not to be- he was gone far beyond that.She was struggling underneath him with diminishing strength but exponentially increasing hate and energy.He did not want that from her- he was there to give her all the love he could and to have someone who would actually need and love him back precisely like he wanted.As the chants outside increased in intensity and frenzy,his entire being was overtaken by the desire to possess her,to have her right there and then.So he continued until she was drained of all her resolve and strength,and he of his fury and rage like that of a serpent.And minutes later as he looked at her torn and traumatised body,he felt the demons of that irresistible anger returning to him,like stones projected into a wasp’s nest.Totally at his wit’s end,afterwards he took her outside in his arms and cried for help.Then came the sobbing and shaking,until he fell down beside her,dizzy and nauseous.

Subrato was feeling sick again,exactly as he did that night.Sick to the core and overwhelmed by a searing sense of hopelessness.Was she even coming ?

 

 

Zara

 

Zara did a twirl ,hugged the mulberry tree she had come to know like her own self and made a dash for the door,crushing the particularly juicy mulberries fallen down from the tree.A tangy,fruity smell wafting on the gentle breeze punctuated the serene and vaguely nostalgic silence pervading her being.

“Naaz ! Khaala !! Sam !! Sammie !! ” She knocked the door relentlessly until she could hear Naaz shouting back in her cranky,shrill and simultaneously cute voice.She allowed herself a grin before Naaz came down and opened the door.

” Where is Khaala Jaan ? Are my bags ready ? Did Kabir call ? And,why,for the love of all that is serene,are you dressed in my Kurti ??” , Zara rushed through shooting the queries as she grabbed a glass from the dining table and filled it with water.

Naaz made a face.” There’s no more Rooh-Afzah in the bottle.And I took the Kurti because you still owe me my five takas,not that anyone as fat as you should care about it.Also,don’t you ever presume that i am sitting here to answer your silly questions,unless you have a mind to pay me double of what you are to.”

“Sweetheart,that’s exactly what you are doing- sitting here and answering my questions”, Zara winked at her half-sister.”And we both know that this is the highlight of your otherwise boring,cramped days.So you might as well drop the pretence of hating it.”

” You are more of a dumbster than i thought,Zapa,and of course i hate you and your stupid questions.And your stupid trip.” Naaz retorted but hung her head down.

“Aww….my princess is sad because i am going away for a while ? C’mon,tsk tsk bachche,i will be back before you know it and the next time it happens,you will come with me.” Zara smiled.

” Oooh,like i care ! “, Naaz rolled her eyes,now rummaging through Zara’s purse for loose change or candies.

” I know you don’t,madame.So come on here and run this errand for me,or for the combo coupons for Kareem’s somebody will get and cares deeply about”, Zara took out a book from her bookshelf and handed it to Naaz.” Go and give it to Azaan Bhaijaan.And tell him that i will be back for the rehearsals from the next week.Take care not to die on the way or to drop the book.Neither is interesting enough,take my word on that.”

” Why ? Gone..with…the….”,Naaz was trying to read the name of the book aloud when she stumbled upon a nailclipper tucked neatly between two median pages.” Zapa ! You forgot your clipper in the book.”

Zara turned back from her shelf and smiled again ” No,I didn’t.Now go !! ”

When Naaz was gone after giving her a weird look like she was more insane than her sister gave her credit for,Zara closed her eyes and tried to visualize the disarming cuteness on Azaan’s face when he came down to her in the middle of the rehearsals for Shylock : The other side of Venice, asking her if she could clip his nails.On being probed,he blushed and admitted that it was his Ammi who still clipped his nails at home.Zara had a hard time trying not to smile for hours afterwards at this adorable facet of his personality which he kept concealed beneath his handsome,rugged face and rough,isolated exterior.It was actually funny to see him writing the fabulous,deep-meaning scripts and helping the actors in acting their parts out but running away on the very suggestion of being a part of the act himself.Zara was the only person he opened himself to or at least that’s how she liked to think it was.And if she was right about her speculations,Zara had to do her part in making him say what both of them wanted him to say.But that could wait,she reminded herself ! She had to be at the railway station by 8.And that was when she got the panic attack about packing and leaving which she was waiting for since morning,making her run to look out for Tamreen Khaala.

 

*  *  *       *  *  *

Zara was always wary of these little crafty and sinister looking boats dotting the immense,endless expanse of River Hooghly ever since she was a child.All the physics and logic put apart,why do these heavy,dilapidated and oddly shaped blocks of wood even float on water ? What if they suddenly refused to follow the rules and decided to go down the mind-boggling depths of the river just to see what it is like inside ? Can they do that ? And what is it really like inside,beneath this facade of an infinite watery wall ? Trying to picturize the answers gave her goosebumps even as she took her first step forward to get on the boat and she had to chide herself mentally to stop doing that.Once she had settled down she tried to divert her thoughts and let the mental blockage of  a different part of her brain go down. The countless hide and seek games she had played during the long-drawn and lazy summer evenings,running,hiding and seeking across the entire Basu Lane; the guffaws and giggles,and the furious screams on her part which ensued when one of the aunties gave her hiding place away to the “it” in the game ;  the sweet and heavenly Malpuas which Bannerji Da got especially prepared for her on Sundays,the mirth and bliss in the street when Durga Puja came along and Maasi maa would come down with Shamoli Di to invite them for the celebrations; the fishing trips she and her classmates undertook after bunking their half-day classes on Saturdays,the fierce yet friendly feuds which commenced when the children came out with and compared their Idees on the sun-kissed days of Id, and the colourful kite-flying contests on the first day of the new year where she did nothing but shout and hoot for others but was thrilled to the core nevertheless……so many years,so many faces,so many colours……and the sadness which eclipsed all of them when she had to leave the only world she belonged to and go to Dhaka.Zara sighed and shifted in her seat as the raindrops started to make the river shimmer and glisten.

 

…………………………………………………..

 

 

 

Subrato could see the boat from a distance through the mist of the torrent and uncertainty,and found himself restless as the bow touched and backed off a bit from the bank.He almost ran down the steps,or at least ran as fast as his age and grace would permit.When the tall,shapely and majorly soaking girl got out of the boat,all smiles and beauty in the moonlight,he knew it was all worth it.

Zara stood a few steps away from him for seconds,observing him closely and then ran for a hug.

He embraced her with open arms and heart and warmth he never had for his own self.A hug is all it takes then,to be alive ; to be human again,however transiently,he pondered.

” Aye ki, Dada ? Why did you have to age for both of us ? ” Zara chuckled.

” Bas bas,haan, tumi nijeke bodlate okkhom ! Ask anyone in the Basu Lane and they will tell you who is fit enough to play the mother to me or Maa even !” Subrato gave her a gentle pat on the back.” And how did you cover the entire stretch of your journey on this Dhingy without jumping into the river or stabbing the manjhi ?”

” I have grown up,over and beyond your shoulder and imagination,Dada.”

” Well,i guess that explains these thirty or so knots in your stole,which i must point out,you work on only when you are studying or something and NOT nervous ! ” Subrato felt a vaguely familiar sensation rushing through his face.Was it a smile ?

” I would have said that the jibe was funny if only it were not a) targetted at me and,b) made while i stand in the rain,welcoming cold and fever like i am to meet them after ages as well !” Zara took hold of his hand and dragged him along.” Will we get an auto on the road ? How are the people at home ? Maasi Maa ? Shamoli Di ? Hori Da ? ”

 

 

* * *    * * *

Next morning,when Subrato went to her room to give Zara tea and breakfast,it was raining again.He hesitated and lingered.Finally,he sat down on the bed near her as she was trying to drive the final vestiges of sleep away from her eyes,sipping the tea contentedly.

” Zara ,let me ask you something straight away.Do you really know why are you here ?” He asked her pointedly after a minute or two of absolute calm.

“It’s about my fees and scholarships,isnt it ? Now that my graduation is almost done,i won’t be getting any of them from you.” She was slightly surprised at the dummy question.

” Actually,I’m afraid it’s more than that.” Subrato mustered all the courage he could and looked straight into her exactly same blue eyes.” Zara,you do know what these people say about me and your Ammi,don’t you?”

Zara held her breath and waited,suddenly tense and uncomfortable in the small,moribund room.

” Ambiguous morality is a slippery slope,Bachche.And no one can attest to the validity of that more than me.No matter how base a crime or people’s perception of it is,one can always justify it at the end of the day.That’s how humanity survives and evolves.They will condemn what they can’t or need not do,but will slay their own kind and morality the moment they see the slightest sign of the act serving any purpose for them.And then they have their own system of comparing and rating crimes and punishments as if the reins of reality and righteousness have been bestowed unto them because they are in a time-warp where they have never fallen themselves.Our follies and instincts,however,unlike people,are not biased.To say,a rain of fire-and-brimstone falls alike on the just and such of the unjust as have not procured shelter.” Subrato was gazing outside the window,in an increasingly obvious attempt to make them both less ill at ease.

” They teach you to shoot for the stars,but will rip your heart out the instant they know that the stars in question lie beyond the frame of the social convention and decree.I never denied what transpired between your Ammi and me,but to you.For you.Through all these years of my miserable existence,i have clinged onto that single,painfully fragile thread of hope that Aafreen would have forgiven me someday and that i would be half the father i wanted to be to you.God knows i do not claim myself victim of the accusation and guilt which is my life now.I chose that path willingly and they are but the shadows of the temptation i consorted with.But if there’s one explanation i want you to understand it would be love.Love that,as far as i see,never fell from its grace,before and after.I never stopped loving her,and i refuse to give one moment of weakness the power to do that to me.I can not let that happen ; that would be the death of me.And i don’t want to leave you alone and bitter in the world.The humiliating,onerous ordeal which has been the last nine years of your life have taught you to hide everything behind your smile,and that’s the worse i could have done to my daughter.I can not let that be.” , He turned his gaze to Zara,who had suddenly developed an acute interest in the concentric circles drawn on the bed-sheet,with a lost,intense expression on her face, a single teardrop punctuating it.

He continued,” These people whom you call family and who think they really have got your best interests at heart did not think twice before talking in whispers what could have torn you apart,and in fact making sure you came across those whispers every now and then.Tell me Zara,do you really feel at home there when these people treat you like a freak,broken deity or call your father a rapist behind his back ? Does Mohseen even know the colour of his step-daughter’s eyes or hair ? Don’t you feel like you are always treading the edge of a sword,which might trip on the slightest provocation and take you down with it ?”

Zara did not answer.

” It all ends here.You will not return to Dhaka.I will arrange for your belongings to be delivered here.You are my daughter and i will have you so; in the family,where you belong.”

No answer.

Subrato got up to leave.

“I never heard Ammi say anything bad about you.And she would not have been ashamed of me,if she were alive.I can feel it,Da ! ” Zara finally looked at him.

Subrato,taken aback for a moment,composed himself,smiled and left the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Zara dropped the coin into the slot,and dialled a number. Naaz’s sullen face flashed in her mind,anxiously waiting for her call.

” The number you have dialled does not exist.Please check the number and dial again.” A modulated voice declared after a beep.

Zara looked at the keypad again.She had promised Naaz that she would be back within a week,had she not?

“Close pent-up guilts, Rive your concealing continents, and cry these dreadful summoners grace. I am a man more sinn’d against than sinning…”