Neelakantan had taken 41 days off from his beloved. Just a vow.

It was when their affair had crossed the 90-day mark that he had felt the need for a break. The romance that was born one night when they rammed into each other trying to take the same auto rickshaw, had become a success story crafted entirely by nights. This was despite the fact that their get-togethers were limited to the few precious moments when the insomniac old couple, whose paying guest Neelakantan was, would be finally struck down by sleep; or to the intervals of all-consuming sleep that descended upon the couple whose paying guest Radhamani was, after one of their routine fighting bouts. And it was despite the fact that they were forced to hold their meetings within the occult time frame of the alien working hours of the software companies where Neelakantan and Radhamani worked as programmers; further, the time-tables had to be bent to the lustful decrees of their burning youth.

It was from the unpredictable universe patched together by all these that Neelakantan and Radhamani had managed to grab a few bits, tail-ends and chunks of night and convert them into paradisiacal gardens for their union. Both were out of range during the day. They did not know what would happen if they met during daytime. Perhaps they would just pass each other by like two ships in a vast ocean. In fact, Radhamani happened to walk past Neelakantan once like that at mid-day. It was after a while that she had a doubt: “Wasn’t that Neelakantan?” She turned and ran after Neelakantan’s red shirt. And called out from behind:

“Neela!”

The man in the red shirt turned to look at her in surprise, with red eyes. It was not Neelakantan. She quickly said,

“Oh, sorry, very, very, sorry!”

He smiled, savouring the moment. Radhamani again spotted Neelakantan’s red shirt at a distance. But she was not willing to try her luck once more.

Thus, it is enough to say, it was with great difficulty that they manoeuvred a few abyss-like cosmic moments of romance, sandwiched between the sleeplessness of outsourced American capitalism and the vigilant nationalism of Keralite lust that never shuts its eye.

The old couple with whom Neelakantan stayed as a paying guest suffered from insomnia most of the time. They would nod off a bit in front of the television. Then try to invite sleep with sleeping pills. But on and off, they would wake up and like wingless moths, move around the room on dragging feet. Their shuffling feet would reach Neelakantan’s door as well. And stop a while there. Neelakantan had been consumed by terror many a time, thinking that a ghost stood outside. That a ghost would wait outside his door was beyond his reckoning. What did it want? One day, trembling in every limb, he climbed upon a table and peered through the ventilator. And he saw the old couple. He still wouldn’t believe what he saw. He thought the figures standing outside were the spectres of the old couple. He stared at their shadowy forms, his mouth dry and his heart beating like a drum. Had they turned into apparitions even before they were dead! Or had they let loose their ghosts while still alive? His head whirred and he slumped on the table. It was later the realisation came to him that in fact they were putting their sleeplessness to good use.

Since he served America with sleepless dedication, Neelakantan spent only occasional nights in his room. Yet, the couple was keeping a wakeful watch on whether he was wasting electricity by leaving the light on at late hours or causing damage by letting the bathroom tap drip. If they felt anything was amiss, they would knock softly on the door. If it didn’t open, the knocks would become louder. When he opened the door, they would stand looking at him mournfully.

Outwitting these insomniac sentinels had become the central challenge for Neelakantan’s amorous meetings. Towards this end, he had created on his computer a probability chart of the couple’s sleepless trajectories. He had already discovered a way to get around the problem of switching on the lights: Keep the laptop working. That was his Eternal Flame. On the night of their first meeting, Radhamani had come into the room and after standing bewildered in the dim light for a while, whispered,

“There’s no light?”

Though he had tutored her that talk must become whisper, he had forgotten to mention the problem with lights. He quickly pointed to the laptop’s translucent screen. On the screen-saver, a 3-D flower floated about, opening and closing. He whispered:

“This is our light. Sorry.”

While they were embracing, they heard feet shuffling outside. Then there was silence. Though he didn’t let Radhamani go, he froze, holding his breath. The feet stirred again and moved away. To set his mind at ease, he extricated one hand, clicked on the icon on the laptop screen and checked the probability chart. It had decreed an hour’s sleep for the couple, starting then.

While they were making love, Radhamani said:

“Actually, this light is more than enough.”

He didn’t say anything. He had wanted to take a good look at her. But who can break the shackles of Fate? It is not Fate’s job to make old people sleep. Nor does it ready a heaven for lovers seeking bliss. So when he felt like seeing her closely, he used a pen torch, which amused her a great deal and made her giggle soundlessly. Neelakantan just swallowed that.

In ninety days, they had carried out many such encounters. Most of them were rewarding. Yet, Neelakantan felt the need for a break. Better to go slow and win the race. We need to continually redesign our lives ourselves. And we must create our own intervals of meditation. The hard disk of the mind gives back only what we give unto it.

During the 90-day break, Neelakantan gave more attention to the Day, whenever he got a chance. To know the Day better. To know the sun better. He wished to invite Radhamani into a day – not for a love-session – but just to meet her in daylight and understand her better. But when he thought of the angst that would hit him if she didn’t recognise him at first sight, he dropped the idea. First, let the vow come to an end. The experiments with daylight can come later. The universe would show a way at the end of the day.

The first few days of the spiritual vacation were peaceful and uneventful. Since Neelakantan had shunned telephone calls to Radhamani as part of his vow, a certain silence whistled in his ears. To escape the torrential evangelism of love that still brimmed over, he dived more and more into the Day. After all, the daylight hours are full of wonders – from movie shows to literary conferences.

A few days thus passed, when suddenly he began to experience a strange phenomenon. On some days, it appeared that a young woman was smiling and winking at him. The first instance was at a cinema which showed only English films. It was while he was buying a ticket for the 3:30 show of ‘Quantum of Solace’ that he first spotted the young woman smiling and winking. She was among the crowd that was coming out of the earlier show. He was flabbergasted. What was one to do if suddenly, a beautiful young woman behaved like that? After a brief perplexed stare, Neelakantan took out his wallet, opened it and pretended to scrutinise the credit cards. A few minutes later, he managed to sneak a glance, but she was gone. Neelakantan became very agitated. He found it difficult to accept what was evidently an astonishing invitation to start a new affair while another was still active. At the same time, the possibility of taking on that invitation was highly enticing. The spiritual stress he underwent as a result of this conflict of interests was considerable. But he managed to swallow that as well. There was one thing he just couldn’t understand. Why me? Am I that irresistible at first glance? He spent almost five minutes in front of the mirror, looking at himself but got no answer.

Another day, she appeared while he was on his way out of the new fish stall at the shopping mall, with a packet of anchovies and thinking about Radhamani’s fondness for that fish. It was then that he looked up and saw the young woman, standing on the balcony, smiling and winking at him again. He panicked and looked away, pretending to examine his packet of fish.

To make his act look more natural, he tugged at the shorter, knotted, end of the packet as if to test its strength. The knot came loose. With that, Neelakantan too came undone. Desperately trying to hold together the packet of anchovies with both his hands, he stood clueless on the mall’s veranda. A few anchovies fell out of the packet. He quickly picked them up and pushed them into the packet before anybody trampled on them. Pressing the crumbling packet to his stomach, he managed to steal a glance at the balcony. She had disappeared.

Tightly holding the packet of anchovies that kept falling apart, he dashed into the crowd outside. A terrified Neelakantan asked himself: Is it possible that this woman is an illusion? If so, whom should I consult for a solution? A witchdoctor? A psychiatrist? Religious supremoes? The media? The Chief Minister? Or, could it be that a computer virus I butchered has returned in a woman’s shape to avenge itself? If so, what should I do? Get the latest anti-virus programme and wear it around my neck as a talisman? Or should I inform the cyber police?

Fatigued by such thoughts, he collapsed on a cement bench at a bus stop. A dog that had got wind of the anchovies stood at a respectful distance, and wagged its tail disarmingly. Neelakantan had a sudden urge to be cruel.

“Get lost, you dog,” he said.

He took a second look at it and said again,

“Get lost, you bitch.”

The dog wagged its tail more disarmingly.

Neelakantan even wondered if he should break his vow and call Radhamani to share with her this new turn of events. Because he knew that young women sometimes exhibited an uncanny ability to go to the heart of the matter. But he stopped himself. He didn’t want to burden her with his spiritual struggles. Not only that. What if the young woman who has been smiling at him was real and not an illusion or a virus? And what if her intention was romantic? In that case, he had to confront the fact that an existential challenge lurked in the looming possibility of running two parallel affairs. That’s what Dvaita–Advaita is all about. It also didn’t seem to him that Radhamani was ripe for such esoteric knowledge. On the other hand, if that woman was indeed a virus, then he would seek Radhamani’s help for sure. She was an anti-virus specialist. But all of a sudden, a chilling thought crossed his mind: What if Radhamani herself had sent this virus to distract him during his vow? He closed his eyes in dread.

Earlier, when he had explained to Radhamani the reasoning and philosophy behind his 41-day vow, while lovingly massaging her rose-pink feet, she had told him,

“Sounds like a good idea. After you, I will give it a try.”

What is the need for that? Neelakantan had wondered anxiously. When I take a break, doesn’t she have one too automatically? What is the need to double everything? May be, if she was so earnest she could just meditate. But since he felt that this approach was somewhat biased in his favour, he kept silent. At the same time, the thought that Radhamani could have sent the virus to punish him for his vow plunged Neelakantan into deep despair. If so, what price the spiritual side of massaging rose-pink feet?

The young woman appeared to him again on Radhamani’s birthday. Since an e-greeting would violate the rules of his vow, he hadn’t sent one to her. But after a while, he had become restless. Birthday greetings are central to keeping an affair healthy. If you slip up, you’re playing with fire. He took a strong decision: Though late, he would send a greeting by post – hard copy has its own character. After posting the greeting card, he was about to cross the road. That was when the young woman waved to him from a speeding auto rickshaw. He was stunned. It was her! Yet again! Today, she looked beautiful in a special way. That made him recall that it was in an auto rickshaw that he had first met Radhamani and he was overcome by a tender-sweet sensation.

It was a new realisation for him that apparitions and virus avatars of the feminine kind could be so beautiful. The apparitions that usually came his way were of a pale and insipid category. He then wondered what would be the nature of a sexual encounter with an apparition, like the one he saw in the auto rickshaw. His kundalini replied that it would be incestuous, since the apparition was, after all, a creation of his own imagination. In that case, going by the Tat twam Asi philosophy – that is to say, ‘You are That’ – wasn’t every love-making incestuous, he thought with a deep sigh.

It was after this that the incident in the park occurred. Neelakantan was trying to meditate sitting under a tree in the park. He had let around thirty thoughts – small and big – pass by when the thought of opening his eyes came to him. Though he kept letting it pass, it wouldn’t go. He had to open his eyes. Right before his eyes, were three young women walking past. One of them laughed and waved her hand at him and he realised that it was her! Quaking, he asked himself: What shall I do? Is there no security in meditation too? Ayyo. Shall I get up and run? But that would draw attention. Therefore, he stopped meditating and in the same posture, entered into analysis mode. He tried to view this supramental experience from more than one angle: It was possible that she was, in fact, a woman and not a ghost. If so, his foolish mind may have led him to mistakenly believe that the person she was smiling and waving at was him. In that case, he needed to strengthen his practice of meditation to retaliate against his mind‘s vagaries. But there was another possibility that seemed more complex to Neelakantan: She had mistaken him for somebody else. In that case, wouldn’t she have come to believe that the person was again and again pretending not to notice her? And how long would she ignore such behaviour? Wouldn’t she one day confront the original person and ask,

“Why have you been pretending not to see me when I have been waving and smiling at you?”

If they were lovers, he would reply,

“My goodness! You did that? I didn’t see you at all!”

In this age of globalisation, neo-liberalism has invaded emotions so much that this is enough reason to be cross with each other. She might even slap him across his face.

He closed his eyes, attempting to return to the sphere of meditation. Then a realisation hit him a like a bolt of lightning. It was in the form of a question that had nothing to do with the crisis at hand: When my lover professes that she loves only me and that is true, then, if I profess the same to her, wouldn’t that be true as well? Another question followed: If it is possible that my saying I love only her is untrue, then, wouldn’t there be a possibility that her saying she loves only me is untrue as well? A single answer to both the questions shone brightly in the clear sky of meditation:

YES.

Reeling under the weight of this enlightenment, he suddenly fell over to one side. People sitting under a tree nearby stared in astonishment. To ensure that no one mistook him to have collapsed due to a heart attack, he jumped up and did a slow run of the park. He then settled under another tree in the ‘Dead Leaf’ aasana. The objective of this aasana is that you sit on dead leaves and try to become as weightless as them. However, the limitation of this aasana is that in some seasons, there are no dead leaves.

The young woman’s mysterious appearances continued and Neelakantan could not do anything about it. And his disquiet became overpowering. For how long will I pretend that I do not see her? Even if she were a supranormal phenomenon, shouldn’t I follow certain accepted rules of the game? What if, in an inevitable manner, it became necessary for him to respond to her? The thought vexed him. Further, if she were only a hologram, then how should he handle that in practical terms? Neelakantan used every bit of his willpower and held himself together from breaking his vow.

It was when he had reached the last phase of his vow that an incident – as if the embodiment of all that had been troubling him till then – occurred.

He was on his own, eating masala dosa at the Indian Coffee House. His contemplative soul was soaring with every bite of the dosa. He also wondered if he should ask for a cutlet after he had finished with the dosa. Suddenly, an unknown power made him look in a particular direction. There! She had appeared at a corner table, eating a cutlet! He almost choked on the dosa in shock. He drank some water, gulped down the rest of the dosa and decided not to ask for the cutlet. An inner voice told him it would be better to leave the place before she paid the bill and got up. It was for the first time that he was caught in the same room with her. But he couldn’t help wanting some coffee. The pleasure of savouring a masala dosa culminated in the flavour of coffee. Therefore, even as he was in the midst of a mental conflict, he called to a waiter and ordered a cup.

“Bring it quickly, please. I’m in a hurry,” he added.

However, the young woman finished her cutlet with magical speed. The fork and knife in her hands flashed in quick motion. She hadn’t ordered coffee and her bill had arrived. The amount she placed on the table must have been exact, including the tip. For she got up quickly and looked towards Neelakantan’s table. With a start, he turned his eyes away. At that point, the waiter put the cup of coffee on his table.  Neelakantan sat staring at the coffee, as if it were some bizarre object. He didn’t reach for it because he felt the trembling of his hands would be noticed. She walked towards Neelakantan’s table and stood beside it for a second. Then, she took his cup of coffee, had a sip and put it back. She then lightly tapped him on his back and walked out smiling. Even in that dreadful state, Neelakantan realised one thing: She wasn’t a hologram. He had clearly experienced the touch of her hand on his back. He sat frozen, meaninglessly shuffling his look between the last morsel of the dosa and the cup of coffee. All of a sudden, he understood. Something eerie had colonised his mind! For, a question that rushed to his mind came out like this: Should I first drink the dosa or eat the coffee? When he tried to correct the question, it became: Should I first eat the coffee or drink the dosa? At the same time he couldn’t understand what needed to be corrected in that question. In a state of suffocation, he thought: What happened just now was an outright act of war. Could her sipping his coffee and tapping him on the back be signs of a rising new imperialism, he asked himself, shaken by an inner tremor. What was she likely to do next? Would she appear in my room and lie down on my bed? What if she forced me out of it? Neelakantan broke into a sweat. He suspected that his whole life may have to undergo a virus scan.

Suddenly, he was also plagued by the doubt whether he should drink up the coffee she had left unfinished. Finally to put the matter to rest he gulped it down at one go. Excellent coffee! But within a few seconds, he found himself sliding off his chair. Neelakantan collapsed on the floor with a small commotion. He understood the reason: He was experiencing the after-math of the woman tapping his back. People turned around in surprise. Some jumped up and rushed to help him. Waiters came running. To ensure nobody mistook it for a heart attack, he leapt to his feet and ran outside.

“Saar, Saar, your bill!” yelled the waiter as he followed him outside.

Neelakantan stopped. Paid the bill. Gave a tip. He then started walking, his head bent in sorrow.

Two days later the period of vow ended. Neelakantan telephoned Radhamani:

“The vow is over. Shouldn’t we meet?”

She replied, “Of course. Our short lives do not end with one vow. So, how was your holiday?”

Neelakantan said, “Ahhh… it was great! I feel as if I had jumped into a river and had a good dip! The soul is in meditation. So is the body. I would be a better lover, I can assure you.”

“We would see about that,” she said. “If what you said is true, then I’d like to try my hand at a vow too.”

Neelakantan was shocked again. He wanted to ask, Why? Didn’t my vow serve as yours too? But didn’t do so, because he realised in time that the question contained a bias. Radhamani continued,

“I need to ask you something.”

Neelakantan’s heart stopped. Ask me what? Had Radhamani come to know about that young woman? His head spun. But, my conscience is clear, he comforted himself. I haven’t even said ‘hello’ to her; then why should I worry? Yet, he didn’t dare ask what her question was.

Feigning a casual tone with difficulty, he said,

“Oh yes, all questions are welcome!”

“Ok, check the probability chart and let me know when,” said Radhamani.

As he put the phone down, a fearful thought echoed inside him, shaking his very being. What if as a final gambit, that phantasm were to appear in my room when Radhamani and I were in an embrace? What if she were to pat my back again? And pour herself some tea from Radhamani’s flask? “Ayyo!” Neelakantan cried out loudly. He squatted on the floor, holding his bent head in both hands.

Outside, two pairs of feet came dragging themselves and stopped at his door. One hand knocked. Neelakantan sprang up and opened the door. The couple looked at him ruefully and said,

“We heard a loud cry”.

Neelakantan decided to be cruel and said,

“You’re mistaken. The cry wasn’t from here. It must’ve been from one of the serials you both watch. Sometimes, these howls and wails have a way of wandering off.”

He closed the door. And swallowed the urge to scream once more.

Soon the day designated by the chart as the most suitable one arrived. Behind the unlocked door, in the dim laptop light, Neelakantan waited for Radhamani. According to the chart, the couple must be fast asleep by now, that is if Fate had no nightmares in store for them. He hoped Radhamani hadn’t forgotten the usual precautionary measures after the 41-day break: How to open the gate; how to creep across the lawn noiselessly with footwear in hand; how to survey the couple’s bedroom; how to tiptoe along the veranda; and what to say if caught. In case of capture, she was supposed to say this:

“Uncle! Aunty! Namaskaram! We are planning a tele-serial about the insomnia of senior citizens. I’m a volunteer who has been assigned the job of collecting the true facts about this problem in our society. I have been asked to observe actual cases of insomnia and make a report. Which is why I’m here at such an odd hour. Could you please give me ten minutes to help me fulfil this mission as part of a larger social cause?”

Should he pop an Indian-made Viagra pill to ensure 100 per cent quality assurance for the encounter that was taking place after 41 days, Neelakantan had wondered earlier. Especially in the light of his claim that he would be a better lover… But his newly acquired meditation-based dharma didn’t allow him to do so. It’s not on crutches that you prove quality.

Neelakantan’s eyes had begun to droop in sleepiness when the door softly opened. Radhamani entered and quietly bolted the door. Neelakantan was jolted out of his drowsiness. He jumped up and with a deep sigh of contentment, held her in a passionate embrace. Ah! The 41-day long thirst is over! The phantasm and its attacks faded away from his mind like an old tale. He held Radhamani in a tight squeeze and kissed her.

“Is this you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” he himself provided the answer and kept caressing her. The flower on the laptop screen spilled light and floated mystically in its cyber sky.

Suddenly, she pushed him away and said,

“Wait! I want to switch the light on.”

Neelakantan wailed in a small voice,

“Ayyo, don’t!”

But her hand fell on the switch. Neelakantan’s 60-watt bulb shone forth like the sun. In its light, Neelakantan took a new look at her and drew back as if he’d seen the devil. He stood staring at her, his eyes filled with fear and disbelief. Oh, where shall I hide? He asked himself in panic. What I feared has come true. She has finally trespassed into my room in an attack mode! And to think that I even kissed her mistaking her to be Radhamani! He ran his tongue over his lips because he couldn’t help relishing the kiss. But with a sinking feeling, he thought: What if Radhamani knocked on the door now? Would I open it or not? His head spun. He didn’t fall down because he held on to the table.

She walked right up to him and stood face to face. She said,

“This is why I switched the light on. Let the heavens fall. Let the old man’s and the old woman’s ghosts swallow you.”

Neelakantan shuddered. So, were the old man and the old woman really ghosts, after all?  How did this phantasm find that out?

She continued.

“Is it that you lost your ability to recognise me as a consequence of your vow, or is it that you can see and recognise me only in the light of the laptop? Or had you become such a fundamentalist of a vow-keeper that you were pretending not to have recognised me? If so, my boy, you were playing with fire!”

Neelakantan was shattered. Oh, she knows about my vow as well!

She resumed,

“Here, even under the light of this bulb, you’re staring at me like a night rodent upon a bonfire! How many watts is this bulb?”

“Sixty,” said Neelakantan.

“Not enough,” she said. “A bulb of at least 200 watts is called for in your case.”

What’s the use informing her that the ghost couple wouldn’t allow that, he thought to himself.

One element in her statement in particular wounded him deeply. She had lowered his homosapien dignity! He tried to air his protest loudly but only a tiny whisper came out,

“I don’t know about rodents.”

He then asked that terrifying question which had been raising its fearsome head in his mind all this while,

“But who are you?”

It was clear that she was shaken. She stared at him in astonishment and hissed,

“This is wonderful, who are you, you ask! Ok, pal. Who is it that you greedily kissed just a while ago in the light of the laptop? Who? Who is she? So, there is one more character behind the scenes, right? So, this is why you took your vow?”

Neelakantan stood as if struck by a bolt of lightning. He wet his dry lips, gathered all his vedanta force around him and replied, “YOU ARE THAT!” How could I tell her about Radhamani? Moreover, my answer is actually true. Thank you, advaitha! Phew! Neelakantan congratulated himself: Good that I have a spiritual side.

“Do you have any doubt about that?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“All doubts must be put to rest. Where is your wallet?”

He gave it to her. She opened the wallet, took out a photograph from a secret compartment and showed it to Neelakantan.

“Who is this?” she asked him.

Neelakantan was dumbfounded. How did she know the photo was in my wallet? A greater shock awaited him as he looked at the photo and at her. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. It was Radhamani in the photo. And it was Radhamani standing in front of him. What kind of a trick was this?

He kept looking at her, open-mouthed in disbelief. She smiled and asked,

“Now, have your doubts left you?”

He nodded and tightly held on to the table to avoid falling down. He then wet his dry lips again and asked,

“So, the other woman… at the cinema…at the shopping mall…?”

She didn’t hear that. She was examining the probability chart on the laptop. She then switched the light off. Darkness enveloped the room. The blue luminescence of the laptop slowly spread like a mist into the night. She asked,

“Now, are you satisfied, Neela? It is dark enough for you to recognise me, isn’t it?”

Neelakantan nodded in the dark. Though he wanted to ask her to prove in some other way that she wasn’t a virus, he wasn’t able to voice it. He decided to surrender absolutely. A right spiritual move. She drummed on the laptop with her index finger and said,

“Anyway, we have come so far. Now let us see if you’ve become an improved lover.”

At some point in the night, though the old couple thought they heard the tap dripping, fate slapped sleep upon their eyes. Even as Neelakantan was making an all-out effort to become a better lover, a question rose within him: It is possible that this is Radhamani. But who was that? He brought into play all his spiritual power and kicked that question out. And focused on excellence. Absolute surrender is not enough in a time of neo-colonisation, he told himself. Salvation is only in excellence.

(Translated from Malayalam by Anupama Raju. The translator is very grateful to Paul Zacharia for his valuable guidance and inputs to the translation. She also acknowledges the timely help from UAE-based advertising professional and writer, Sudeep Koshy.)