ONE

HE:

No one actually gets anywhere. After all there are no tell tale signs of having arrived. Just about anyplace. Nowhere is there a getting there. Or an arriving. That makes one feel that all is perhaps lost. And yet the blind will braille and the seeing will turn a blind eye to all that they see as well as all that they do not. See. That is. Staring at the sun will do it each time. Cause blindness. One that will only allow you to see colours. In spurts. Flashes. Like blinking your eyelids too fast.

SHE:

There is a lake. Or a pond. That I fish in. Day and night. There are no fish in the lake. Or pond. Or river. That I fish in. Day and night. The man will not listen. He will continue to jump from the bridge. I will not let him drown. I will wake up in time.

HE:

The fountain is too deep for comfort. Or is it the river. The lake. The pond. Toss a coin and I will jump in. Find it for you. For a coin. Toss. Toss the coin. Toss it I say. Toss it out. In. I say that you must toss it in. Plunge. Into the lake. Or is it the river that runs by the house. The pond is dry and cannot ever have fish in it. The sand at the bottom has silted.

SHE:

The child that was stillborn. Returned. I woke up one morning and found it next to me. On my bed full of sand. Asleep. With its eyes open. Fists tightly shut. Cradling the sleeping child with open eyes. I fed it milk from my breast.

HE:

Everything was grey. And cold. The morning mist had gathered to mourn. I put the basket in the boat. And set it adrift. Leaving it to the mercy of the wind.

SHE:

I knew I had travelled far. Getting somewhere. Anywhere. Having arrived there. I felt lost.

HE:

Gone. She had left without saying anything. Not even a goodbye. I sound like her. That is the kind of thing she would have said.

SHE:

I left without looking back. Everything was cold. And grey. The mourners had gathered outside the house. Like the winter fog. I did not feel the need to say anything. Not even a goodbye.

HE:

I keep reminding myself to get out of bed. It is time to get up. And go. But this would mean disturbing her. Not sure I am capable of that. She is a light sleeper. But she is awake. We are both awake. And sitting. In bed. Those were our instructions. Were they not?

SHE:

He is awake. We are both awake. Somehow I don’t know how to get out of this bed. And go. He won’t. Not while I am sitting here. He will not want to disturb me. Besides. There is the question of following instructions. Whose?

HE:

I don’t know.

SHE:

I don’t know.

TWO

She stepped out of one closet. Entered another. And was gone.

He got out of the shower. Dried his nakedness. Sweetened his mouth with the mouthwash. Sprayed his armpits and chest hair. With aftershave. Walked into the bedroom. Naked. Got into bed. Turned over to his side. Away from her. Put off his table lamp. And stared open-eyed into the dark outside the window.

She worried the nails on her fingers with her teeth till they begged for mercy. Later she flossed her teeth. Violently. Causing the gums to bleed. Put on her nylon nightie. Over her lace panties. All the while struggling for breath in the dark closet.

He swung out of bed. Having woken out of a nightmare that caused his heart to beat loudly. Looked for the slippers at the foot of his bed. Slipped his feet into them. And was gone.

She heard the gunshot through the closet door. And the scream of a woman. A death rattle of a man dying. The loudly blaring TV was doing what it always did. Play. Incessantly. To a room empty of audience. She scratched the side of her nose. Burying her self deeper. Into the other closet.

He slammed the car door. Shivering in his pajamas. The ignition refused to start the car. Its dull click replicating the sounds in his head. Where do I go? He asked himself.

She found herself getting sticky between her legs with fresh blood. Counting backwards. The days slip pass in a hurry. To get nowhere. A flood. Somewhere the other closet door slamming shut.

He tried getting into the house without any doors. Or windows. And failed.

She heard the flapping of wings. Bats. And then the rumble. An avalanche of mothballs. The closet. The one she had entered. From the other closet. Began to shudder.

He felt the first drops. Black. Cold. Sticky. It was raining molasses. Very soon he was covered in hives.

She opened the door of the closet. The pain unbearable. And found herself staring into his eyes. Glazed. In pain. Looking through her. His lips moving. A prayer backwards. Inviting the plague.

THREE

She said. Will you remember.

He said. Yes.

She. Will you remember us.

He. Yes.

She. When I am gone.

He. Yes.

She. Will you remember that we always made love in other peoples houses.

Yes.

We had no home.

Yes.

No home to come back to.

Yes.

No. We had none. No home.

Yes.

To call our own. No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

Yes. You will remember.

Yes.

I know my darling.

Yes.

How hard it must be.

Yes.

How hard it is for you.

Yes.

For you.

Yes.

You live your life in so many fragments.

Yes.

But you make time.

Yes.

So much time. Thank you, my love.

Yes.

Thank you for making time.

Yes.

For us.

Yes.

For me.

Yes.

I am trembling.

Yes.

Hold me.

Yes.

Hold my body.

Yes.

As if.

Yes.

As if it is the last thing.

Yes.

You will hold before.

Yes.

You die. Remember what you said.

Yes.

To me. Once. After we had loved each other.

Yes.

To death. You said you wanted to die.

Yes.

In me.

Yes.

Yes. To die in me. So that I could then bury you.

Yes.

Inside of me.

Yes.

I would make a grave of my body.

Yes.

And you would lie in it.

Yes.

Forever. Together at last.

Yes.

Till death do us part.

Yes.

Joined in holy matrimony.

Yes.

I would visit you.

Yes.

With flowers.

Yes.

Each morning.

Yes.

Noon.

Yes.

Each night. I would tend the grave.

Yes.

Lovingly.

Yes.

My body would sustain.

Yes.

And feed.

Yes.

Your body. Till you were.

Yes.

Ready.

Yes.

To be born.

Yes.

The fruit of my womb.

Yes.

My own.

Yes.

My own sweet.

Yes.

Sweet love.

Yes.

Once. Just once.

Yes.

I want you.

Yes.

To be mine.

Yes.

I remember your mouth.

Yes.

The way it would seek.

Yes.

Out. My breath.

Yes.

My breath between your lips.

Yes.

Your lips.

Yes.

Lips that would take into safekeeping.

Yes.

My breath.

Yes. And for the longest time I would.

Yes.

Cease.

Yes.

Cease to be. To breathe. You were.

Yes.

My life.

Yes.

And my reason. For living.

And you mine.

Yes.

My reason. For living.

Yes.

I mean it.

Yes.

Do you remember.

Yes.

The well. The well.

Yes.

You found me in.

Yes.

In which I had allowed myself to fall.

Yes.

I can still see it.

Yes.

See the dark.

Yes.

Suck the white out of the light.

Yes.

Make it bleed.

Yes.

The bloodied dark inside the well.

Yes.

Inside the well.

Yes.

You knew.

Yes.

Even then. That it was mine.

Yes.

The well. The dark. The bleeding.

Yes.

It was just me.

Yes.

Lowering a bucket.

Yes.

Deeper. Deeper. Into the dark.

Yes.

Of my well. Within.

Yes.

The light had lost its way.

Yes.

In the dark inside.

Yes.

My head. But I had to.

Yes.

Keep on.

Yes.

Keep on lowering the bucket.

Yes.

Till it reached.

Yes.

The bottom.

Yes.

You saved me.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes you saved me from myself.

Yes.

I can hear the waves.

Yes.

Even now.

Yes.

Crashing against the defenses.

Yes.

I had built.

Yes.
To protect myself. Precisely.

Yes.

From this very thing. This.

Yes.

Desire.

Yes.

Desire to drown. To plunge.

Yes.

Into the dark.

Yes.

Thank you my love.

Yes.

For saving me. I love you.

Yes.

And want to gift you my life.

Yes.

It is your life. You.

Yes.

Are my life.

Yes.

And yet. We have no life.

Yes.

To call our own. Together.

Yes.

Just once.

…

Naveen Kishore, publisher Seagull Books and photographer.