Chapter 11 - Light and Shade

The sun splashed on his face like a wave of water and Maan woke up with a start. Cool wind had made the curtains flutter and light stole in amidst the fluttering, to play with the colors of the objects in the room. It took a while for Maan to realize that he had slept off in the old man’s home. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was 10 in the morning. Then he let out a yawn and felt comforted in the fact that there would be no office for him to go to, at least for some time. He turned over to his side lazily and admired the spots of bright sunlight that moved wantonly on the mosaic floor. He relished the cool wind as it brushed against his face and would have almost fallen asleep again when he heard some noises from inside the home.

He tiptoed his way on the mosaic floor, crossed the span of the sitting room and went inside into a corridor that led to the inner rooms of the old house. It smelled of the past and reminded Maan of a history that he wasn’t even aware of. He saw shadows and heard voices of people that weren’t there. In him surged memories and sensations that he had never felt before. The narrow corridor led into a kitchen where Kamala stood humming a song and stirring a cooking pan kept on the stove. Her tuneful voice rang through the kitchen and merged with the smoke from the pan and the smell of spices in it. Maan stood there by the door looking at her. She turned around and approached Maan and Maan felt certain that she knew that he was looking at her. But she stood right next to Maan and took out something from a kitchen rack and went back to her cooking. Maan, aware of his apparent invisibility, soon felt confident enough to enter the kitchen and look closely at Kamala. She would close her eyes time and again in the middle of her song and her constant stirring would stop momentarily. Then her voice could be heard unmitigated and Maan would listen, seated on the kitchen platform, swaying his legs to her song. The curls of her hair that would casually fall on her face, and she constantly kept brushing them back. She had tied the ends of her saree tightly round her waist and had tucked in a kitchen cloth hanging down like an apron from her waist. She would use this cloth to hold utensils, wipe her hands and even the perspiration on her forehead. A little while later she was done with her cooking and she left the kitchen after putting the utensils in order.

Kamala walked down the narrow corridor at the end of which rose an old spiral staircase. She climbed the steps playfully her hands holding a column that stood nonchalantly in the middle of the staircase. Maan tiptoed his way up the staircase, careful not to make any noise. He emerged into a balcony bathed in sparkling sunlight. Little huts surrounded them like shrubs and bushes and not too far away was the sea, looking like a pond swelling with rainwater.

“Prince Charles? What are you doing here?” she said suddenly.
“How did you know?”
“I have eyes in the back of my head” she said and laughed. She was sitting in the shade at the end of the balcony on a flight of steps that led nowhere.
“Come sit next to me. I come up here often. Ba says it is a wonderful view. Sometimes even I can see hills and houses and seas. Here I can hear my neighbors quarrel in the day and at night I can hear the waves in the distance. Once when I was a little girl we had had a terrible monsoon and the waves had come all the way up to where we are sitting. These days they have pushed back the sea to make room for more people. It isn’t all that easy to push back the sea, the sea sneaks back in every now and then during the monsoons. It is a constant tussle between the sea and the people.”
“You sing very well”, said Maan.
“So you were in the kitchen too!” exclaimed Kamala.
“Yes it is a beautiful view. No, I don’t mean what I saw in the kitchen!” Maan laughed. “I have been in Mumbai for so long that I feel that I belong here and that the sea belongs to me. I look at the sea as a friend. I wonder how it must have felt when the sea came all the way up to here to meet you. Obviously you didn’t splash your feet in the water and wave your hands at other people on rooftops. The sea certainly wouldn’t have felt like a friend then. When I first came I was very scared of the monsoon. The winds are so strong that I felt that building would fall down.”
“Prince Charles, I thought you belong to England!” said Kamala.
“Oh the life in Buckingham Palace got to me. I had to leave, so I took a boat and came down to Mumbai.”
“A boat? No ships in the royal navy?”
“No, that would be too conspicuous. It was a little rowing boat with two oars. One of the oars broke in a storm. Luckily I had a spare. These days I go by the name of Maan. You see, I am wary of the Paparazzi. ”
“What about the guy who claims to be Prince Charles?” asked Kamala.
“He is my evil twin!”

Chapter 10 - The Ride

The taxi sped away like a bunny rabbit. The old man sat quietly and looked nervously at his lunch box. Maan touched his lunchbox but the old man quickly put it to his other side, out of Maan's reach. The taxi driver kept stealing glances at them through his rear view mirror. But he looked away as soon as Maan looked at his face through the rear view mirror, waved at him and smiled mischievously.
“Who are you?” said the old man suddenly.
“Prince Charles”, said Maan.
“Stop the taxi!” commanded the old man.
“What will you do when you get down?”
“Whatever! I am not going with you”, he said with exasperation in his voice.
“Ok sit for 5 minutes, then you can get down.”
“No”, he said and shook his head.
Maan took out a chewing gum from his pocket and offered it to the old man.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A sedative, to stop your grumbling.”
“What?” he looked perplexed.
Maan put the chewing gum in his mouth and began to laugh. The old man smiled.
“Where are you taking me, your majesty?” he asked Maan.
“Buckingham Palace of course.”
The old man sighed and looked out the window.
“What does your daughter do?” asked Maan.
“Why?” asked the old man.
“You look like an academic. Do you teach somewhere?” asked Maan.
“No, no. I am a lawyer! Oh and I think I remember where I stay”, he said as a smile spread across his wizened face.

The taxi turned into a bylane in Worli and Maan said, “This is where we get down.”
The old man looked around and said, “Yes, yes.”
This is where the wide road ended. The waves would break upon the stony walls and push at it with all its might. Sometimes it would breach these impenetrable boundaries, but this happened only in the monsoon season and the weatherman usually knew about it beforehand. To one side of where they stood they could see little children running after balloons and lovers planning their own dreamy worlds hung by cotton strings tied to these balloons. But to the other side was a place where all such balloons would burst. This was a world that never looked towards the sea.

Maan held the old man’s arm and led him into a dark, squalid lane. People rubbed their shoulders against Maan, for it was too narrow for two people to pass side by side. Some people stared at him others didn’t notice him.
“Prince Charles! It doesn’t feel familiar, does it?” laughed the old man.
“Lead the way old man, this is your kingdom.”
The old man nodded. They passed through smoke that came from earthen ovens and entered a world dark and hidden. People stood in their way and sometimes they wouldn’t move.
“Well, don’t look at them. Just push them away”, said the old man matter-of-factly. Yet, little children clung to his trousers, women held on to his shirt, kissed him and rubbed their hands on his face and men held his collar and shook him a bit. Then they bared their teeth and laughed at him. Maan didn’t look at their faces. He slapped his hands on whatever touched him and walked as one would in a tropical jungle.

A while later the old man stood at the door of an old house.
“Ba”, said a voice from inside the house, “Is that you?”
The door opened to utter darkness, until Maan made out a pair of shining eyes.
“Where were you Ba? I waited for you so long”, said the voice.
“Kamala, we have a guest”, said the old man. He went inside briskly and turned on a solitary bulb, the brightness of which stunned Maan for a while. Then he saw a girl inside taking the old man’s lunch box to what was perhaps a kitchen inside. She had thick, curly hair and was of dark complexion. When she returned with a glass of water, Maan could see her plain round face that contrasted her remarkable, shining eyes. She was dressed in rags, but what she wore didn’t seem out of place among the old walls and rusty furniture of her home.

“Prince Charles, this is my daughter, Kamala. Don’t be fooled by her sureness of movement. She is completely blind”, the old man said with a sense of pride as he sat on his rocking chair.
“Thank you”, said Maan as he accepted the glass of water.
Kamala looked at him and smiled graciously.
“Kamala, I lost my way, and even my mind. This man is the reason why I am back home and sitting before you.”
“Thank you”, said Kamala to Maan.
“Oh I was looking for someone else and found your father walking aimlessly with a lunchbox in his hand. I don’t know what drew me to him. He tried to run away from me, but I wouldn’t let him go so easily”, laughed Maan.
“Ba is much too old. But we depend on him. Sunil does his bit too.”
“Sunil is my son”, explained the old man.
Maan nodded and then looked around the house. It had small windows. The paint had all but peeled off. The sitting room wasn’t all that big. There were some old chairs and a cot placed against the wall. There was a small TV and even an old refrigerator. Maan felt very tired and drowsy.
“I must be going.”
“Please have some tea”, said Kamala.
Kamala looked on at him with a constant gaze that made Maan feel very self-conscious.
“I won’t be too long”, she said and went into the inside of the house.
It was twilight outside and smoke sneaked in through the window near the cot. Perhaps it came from the kitchen next doors.
The old man walked up to Maan and asked, “Are you alright?”
But Maan had nodded off to sleep.

Chapter 9 - Lost

Maan stood there by the gate, trying to discern figures in the twilight. The streetlights were still yawning, shaken up from sleep by those timely, efficient people that nobody has seen. As Maan looked around, the security guard came from behind him, trying to find out what he was looking for. Maan saw him and smiled. The guard chewed at the betel nuts in his mouth, cogitated a while and was about to speak, when Maan walked away from him. It was evening time, and it seemed like everybody had come outside to breathe in some sea breeze. Walking right in front of Maan was an old man with a lunchbox in his hand. Strangely, he reminded Maan of a balance as it seemed as though his shoulders had tipped over to one side with the weight of the lunchbox. People went past him, no one noticed him, nor did he notice anybody. A little later, tired of walking he stood by a lamppost, to hold it for a while and look at the dying sun. It is then that he suddenly noticed Maan.

He turned around and said, “What do you want?”
“Nothing”, said Maan.
“Hmmm”, he said, and began to walk faster, conscious that Maan was following him. He turned sharply at a corner, hoping he would lose Maan. But Maan followed him like a shadow. He stopped abruptly and said, “Really, what is it that you want?”
“Where are you going?” asked Maan.
“I am going home”, he said, and began to walk again. This time he tried to cross the street but was almost hit by a car. Maan quickly held him back. The car came to a screeching halt a few paces in front of them and the driver shouted, “Are you blind?” Maan looked at the car and wondered if he had seen it before or had heard the voice somewhere. The old man shook himself off Maan and looked at him, squinting his eyes.
“Do I know you?”
“You should be more careful”, said Maan.
The old man looked at him and smiled. Some of his teeth were missing and something about his smile was very childlike and simple.
“But where are you going?” asked Maan.
“I have lost my way”, he simply said.

They stood there for a while. In front of them sprung up an old mansion. A flight of stairs appeared from nowhere. And for a while it seemed as though nobody was around. Maan held the old man by his hand and made him sit on the stairs.
“When did you leave home?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been home for days”, he said blankly. “I remember leaving home one morning. I haven’t slept in a long time.”
“What is your name?” asked Maan.
“I don’t know”, and he looked into the infinite blankness in front of him.
“What is that?” Maan pointed at the tiffin box.
“My daughter packed me some lunch. It’s empty now.”
A little boy walked by with a teapot in his hand shouting “Chai”. Maan called him, took from him a cup of tea and gave it to the old man. He accepted it without a word.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find your home”, said Maan. The old man looked at him with tears in his eyes. Maan noticed something papery peeping out of the old man’s pocket. He put his hand in the old man’s pocket and found scraps of paper and some money. He studied them for a while. Then he looked up suddenly and said, “I think I know where you stay. " He stood up and gave the old man his hand and said, "Come on, let me help you up”.
Maan hailed a taxi. As they were about to get in he felt a tug on his trouser. It was a little girl from the streets of Mumbai. Her face was covered in dirt, but she had sparkling eyes. When Maan looked at her, she placed something in Maan’s hand and quickly ran away. Maan watched her run away and then looked at the object in his hand. He couldn’t quite understand what it was. It looked like a pen, but it wasn't one. The taxi driver said, “Where do you want to go?”
Maan helped the old man into the taxi, got in himself and unmindfully transferred the object from his hand to his pocket.

“Why have we stopped here Meenakshi?” said Vijay. “And what are you looking at? There is no one there on the staircase.”
“It looked like Maan. I am positive, it was him.”
“What would he be doing here sitting with an old man? Oh come on, we are getting late”
Meenakshi looked at him and at the impatience on his face. It had been a long day. Ever since that little encounter with Mrs. Krishnan in office, she had been running behind black and white people all over Mumbai doing interviews. She remembered with a tinge of pain, that it was in one of these interviews that she had met Maan. "Oh, my mind is so muddled. What's the use of thinking about all this", she said to herself. Now she had to go back to work and type out an exhaustive report. Then there would be a long trainride back home. Hopefully she would get some sleep at night.

Meenakshi walked back slowly to the car, her mind somewhere else.
“Madam, where are you lost?” asked Vijay.
She looked at Vijay and attempted to smile. Then she looked at the sea and lost herself in waves of thought. But who was that old man? I hope he isn’t hurt. Why is Maan with him? Hope Maan is all right. May be I should ask Abhijit.

Vijay lit a cigarette and smoke filled the inside of the car. Meenakshi looked on at the curls of smoke from the cigarette. "Was it really Maan?", she thought.