1 Chapter 1

NOBAR

NEIGHBOURHOOD

January 2005, it was a cold winter morning. I was not in a hurry to get to work that day. My office hours had shifted from 9 AM to 10 AM, considering the cold weather of our place. The flexible hours were perks of working in a private firm.

Through the front window of my kitchen, I could see snowflakes whirling their way down to the ground. I could see lawns, yards, rooftops, cars and roads wrapped in the snow like vanilla ice cream and white frosting on top of cakes and desserts.

White icicles hung down from the eaves of roofs, and powdery snowflakes were on the window panes of all the houses.

It was a fascinating and scenic view. Although, every once in a while, it made everyday life, tough for us. It made it challenging to keep our cars on the roadside as cars and snow don't get along well. Sometimes tires would lose traction, making it even more challenging to control the vehicle. I turned back towards the stove to brew some tea, which I poured into my black mug with an inscription written in white which read "the best uncle ever".

It was a gift given to me by Mirah, my niece, last Christmas. She was seven years old and the youngest in our family. Her gorgeous eyes in a dark face looked as glorious as the stars in the night sky, which would sparkle even in the darkest of times. I must not forget to add that she was the kindest one as well. She had learnt this manner of giving, at such an early age. I had seen kids being excited about receiving gifts, but she was different. She used to be happier while packing gifts for others. The factor that made her unimaginatively adorable was by far her kind and generous heart.

I went back to my room and stood near the window. It faced the roadside and was my usual spot for leisure. I could see people wandering on roads, taking their kids to school, unlocking their shops and scurrying towards their workplaces.

I enjoyed that time of the day because I loved relaxing on my own while having tea and observing people. It was like a habit that would stimulate me and give me content or composition to write about in my stories. I wanted to become a storyteller, as I believed I was born to become one. As far as observing was concerned, it helped me a lot to comprehend my surroundings better.

But as they say, 'everything comes with a price. With all the stories I would imagine and create, I would often get emotionally connected towards the character.

They say, "there is no greater agony in life than bearing an unexpressed emotion inside you". I still think of the girl who used to go to school every day walking past our house, a year back. Her name was Nupur. She was a small girl with brown skin and startling blue eyes, a peanut-shaped face, a little pointy nose, bulbous lips and a visibly thin body. I would see her going to school every day with two unevenly tied ponytails, faded school dress and torn shoes. She would carry her books in some kind of plastic instead of a school bag.

At times, when we would cross paths, she would give me a luminous smile. Her dry red cheeks would form dimples on both sides, and I would see those gaps in her teeth.

Regardless, I loved the way she used to seize joy with her adorable smile. I always felt like smiling back to her as radiantly as she would, but then, I would catch sight of her mother's cold face staring at me as if implying me to stay away from her daughter. So, I would just end up responding with a slight nod. I found her mother very strange. She always looked intoxicated or drunk. I would never see them socialising with anyone else. However, I never gave considerable thought to it. Perhaps, I had my personal life too and other aspects to focus on. As we say, 'life goes on.

It was one day early in the Autumn of last year. I had gone to the local market to buy a gift for Mirah's third birthday. As I walked through the aisle of the gift store, a red bag caught my attention. The sudden idea of buying it for Nupur had passed over my mind, but I don't know why I used to end up visualising her mother's cold face whenever I wanted to buy her something. I kept hesitating for a while, and finally, after some self debate, I bought a bar of chocolate for her. I assumed it would be easier if I offer chocolates instead of a school bag. In the evening that day, I rushed across the gate and waited for her to come back from school.

I waited for nearly fifteen minutes, but she didn't arrive. The next morning, I waited before heading to work, but she was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't wait any longer as I was running late for work. The following day, I just decided to walk past her house, which was six or seven houses away from my place. I was expecting to see her, but all I saw was their landlady gazing at me from the window upstairs.

Later after talking to her, I found out they had left the town. I came to know that the woman did not have her parents. She told her landlady that she was going to her uncle's house, which was in the countryside. She mentioned some Yumsong village which was almost two hundred kilometres from our town. Also, they had taken all their belongings. It was apparent that they were not coming back anytime soon.

It appeared for a moment, the feeling of regret that I felt deep inside me, and it swelled up so much that it started making my head spin. I was late. I recollected those smiles and regretted, not smiling as radiantly as she would. I regretted not telling that little girl how happy she made me feel with her gap-toothed smile. All I could do was imagine her face and remember seeing her for the final time.

It was a few days ago before they left, that I saw her playing outside her house as always. She was fixated on with a piece of cloth. Perhaps, she was trying to make a toy out of it. She didn't notice me walking past her house that day. I even stopped by for a few seconds to watch her play. Had I known that it would be the last time I would be seeing her; I would have called her without a second thought or at least I would have bidden her a better goodbye.

Sometimes I wished I could go back in time. I would perhaps not try to fix anything, but I would surely let people know how I felt about them, especially the ones who made me smile. They never returned to town, and I thought I would never see the girl again.

It was the second week of January 2005. The long cold winter was drawing to its peak. Winter was not my favourite season, but the snow covering the town like a thick blanket looked strikingly delightful.

As usual, I stood nearby the window with a cup of tea. I could see a little boy strolling down the road holding hands with an older man. As I was watching, something caught my attention. A slender woman in her early thirties stepped out of a minivan that parked at the opposite side of my house. There was another pickup vehicle with a few kinds of furniture right behind the van. I could see two coolies unloading the furniture from the truck.

I promptly shifted my focus back to that woman. She had long black hair which came all the way down to her waist. She wore a casual flower-patterned coat with a pair of white sneakers. She was holding a tote bag in her left hand. At first, all I could see was the backside of her body as she was entering the house. I stood there for a moment. After a few minutes, she came out to take the bag which she had left outside. It was then; I could finally take a quick glimpse of her face. She had a fair complexion and a classically beautiful face. Even though I couldn't see the precise details of her eyes, nose or lips from a distance, but I have to confess that I was awestruck by her beauty for a moment. This was something bizarre as it was the first time after so many years that I was mysteriously attracted towards anyone at first sight. I was always very cautious and emotionally unavailable when it came to falling for someone. I wouldn't say I fell for her, but I felt something which I clearly didn't understand at that moment.

As I finished my tea, I realised that I was run ning late for work. I went inside to take a quick shower. I took out a pair of black pants, a grey shirt, black Chelsea boots from my wooden wardrobe. I was never into colourful clothing, and I would always end up buying clothes that were either black or white. Seldom I would buy a grey shirt if I ever felt like wearing something different. I never went beyond these three colours. All of the colourful clothing I had in my closet were gifts that I had received from my mom and some from Irene, my best friend. I never wore any of those clothes, and for that, I always had to handle a lot of emotional drama from both of them. No one is unaware of

women and their dramas, I suppose. However, these two women loved me like no one else. My mom was in her mid-sixties. She was a woman who was in the autumn of her life. Her eyes, over the years, had grown dull and cloudy, her black-dyed hair was thinning day by day, wrinkles were somewhat visible, but for me, she was still the most beautiful woman in my life. After my dad's demise, she had taken up an interest in gardening. Maybe, she was trying to divert her focus into something else to lift herself from loneliness. I was always there for her, but I was also wise enough to understand the fact that nothing and no one could ever fill the space of your soulmate with whom you have lived the most beautiful years of your life. After they are gone, it just remains empty.

Irene, on the other hand, was two years younger than me. We had known each other forever. During our childhood, I would always ask her to refer to me as her brother, but she would never pay any attention to it. She would anyway call me by my name, and later she switched it into a nickname, Nob.

She had a gregarious personality. She was full of life, happy, perky and positive. She was an ambitious and very organised woman, and that is what made her genuinely charismatic. I must not forget to add that she, as well, had faced her share of struggle in life. The most troublesome part of her life was when her parents got separated when she was only eighteen. I had seen her struggling with the situation and then slowly growing and later eventually blooming into the woman that she is today.

I grabbed my car keys from the small box which was kept on my study table. I had bought the car five years ago, but it was in good shape and still had low mileage. My office was just a 45-minute walk from my house. As usual, it took me 15 minutes to reach there by car. My office, "Word viser" was on the second floor of the Green Residency, which would provide editing services for authors since 1996. We were only editing and publishing work that was in English. I was very blessed to get an opportunity to work with my colleagues who were very dedicated and well versed. We were a group of six people working as a family. In these five years, with a bit of hard work and the ability to learn quickly, I had developed a proper conception of my work. My job as an editor was to evaluate and edit the draft, supervise the publication process, review writings and book proposals to decide whether books should be publicised.

I reached the office, greeted everyone and went directly inside of my cabin. I shared a cabin with one other person. His name was Nasir, a Mus lim by religion and a very good friend of mine. We met for the first time when I had joined the office as an intern. He was my senior back then, but over the years, we had become as close as brothers. He was a man in his mid-thirties. I greeted him with a handshake, as usual. He was a father of two but his style of dressing and the way he carried himself always made him appear younger than his years.

That morning, I could see that he was busy reading a manuscript, so I directly turned back towards my desk and switched on my desktop computer to review the drafts to work.

There were two drafts I was supposed to work on. I took the first one and began reading the gist of the story. It was a periodic love story of the 60's era. I was usually a focused person while I worked. However, that day, I found myself preoccupied with the thought of the woman I had seen that morning. Time and again, I found myself bluntly staring at my computer screen. Suddenly, a thump at the door distracted me. It was Prabha, one of our new interns, calling me for a lunch break. She was a Bihari girl who had recently begun working with us. She used to call me 'Bhaiya' which meant 'brother' in Hindi. We all went to the cafe downstairs, which was on the first floor of the same building. It was our usual place for a lunch break as we loved the food and the convenience of where the site was located.

While waiting for our meal to arrive, we would sit, chat and relax. It was a routine of our everyday schedule. However, the entertaining factor of that time would always be Jemmy. He was a twenty-six-year-old fair-complexioned man. He was very chatty and exceptionally friendly. He would crack jokes, initiate chats, drift them with his humour and entertain us throughout the day. After enjoying a leisurely lunch, we all went back and proceeded with our work.

It was around three in the evening. I received a call from mom. She had asked me to drive her to the farmers market as she had to buy some vegetables. My work hours had already been over. Everyone had left for the day except for Kunal dada, our pion. His work was to clean and lock everything after we go. I organised everything back on the table and drove home.

On my way, I called mom and asked her to wait in front of our entrance. It was after dad passed away, she had quit eating meat, and that is why she would ask me to drive her to the farmer's market twice a week. She preferred fresh organic vegetables, and it was the only place in town where we could get real organic stuff.

We reached home at around six in the evening. It was almost dark, so she started cooking as soon as we entered the house. As I went to my room upstairs, I peeped from my window with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. I observed that all the lights of that house were on except for the ground floor. That is where I had seen her in the morning. I assumed she might have gone out for some work. She was running in my mind all day long and honestly. I felt strangely disappointed when I didn't see her that evening.

After a long day, I wanted to freshen up. I wouldn't get enough time to clean up my room in the morning, so I started cleaning up and sorting out my room before taking a bath.

By the time I had finished everything, dinner was ready. Mom had prepared rice, her signature vegetable stew and potato fries. Mom and I would always plunge into some conversation at our dinner table. Occasionally she would turn it into contemporary gossips. I would just sit there and listen to her with a smile on. As her son, that was the least I could do to make her feel that there was someone whom she could talk to and with whom she could share anything without any hesitancy. After dinner, I would usually do the plates, but as mom would frequently wash the dishes that would get dirty in the process of cooking. So, after the meal, there would be just a few remaining pots and plates which I would finish washing in no time. After finishing off my work in the kitchen, I locked the main door and went back to my room. The time was half-past nine. I sat nearby the window again with the urge of seeing her and at that moment, I happened to catch sight of her door. It was locked, and the lights were still off. Surely, she had not come back yet. After a long day, I wanted to freshen up. I wouldn't get enough time to clean up my room in the morning, so I started cleaning up and sorting out my room before taking a bath.

By the time I had finished everything, dinner was ready. Mom had prepared rice, her signature vegetable stew and potato fries. Mom and I would always plunge into some conversation at our dinner table. Occasionally she would turn it into contemporary gossips. I would just sit there and listen to her with a smile on. As her son, that was the least I could do to make her feel that there was someone whom she could talk to and with whom she could share anything without any hesitancy. After dinner, I would usually do the plates, but as mom would frequently wash the dishes that would get dirty in the process of cooking. So, after the meal, there would be just a few remaining pots and plates which I would finish washing in no time. After finishing off my work in the kitchen, I locked the main door and went back to my room. The time was half-past nine. I sat nearby the window again with the urge of seeing her and at that moment, I happened to catch sight of her door. It was locked, and the lights were still off. Surely, she had not come back yet. I guessed she might have noticed me staring at her. She quickly looked away.

She certainly saw me staring like an owl.

'Did I make her uncomfortable?'

I just hoped I didn't.

Suddenly I felt a pat on my shoulder. It was Prabha indicating to me that lunch had arrived. We all started serving and eating.

As always, Jemmy was chattering and cracking jokes. Others were laughing and relishing while eating, but my mind was stuck in that corner where she was sitting. Time and again, I had this deep urge to turn back once, but I don't know why I couldn't gather the courage to do so. So, I quickly finished my food and stood up, making an excuse to visit the washroom.

Honestly, all I wanted was to see whether or not she was still there. But when I turned back, she was already gone. I don't know why I felt that way, but it felt terrible.

What was happening to me?

It wasn't the first time that I had seen a beautiful woman, nor was I the kind of person to fall for outer beauty. I just wondered what specific thing did she have that caught my attention.

If anyone had asked me then, my answer would surely be 'NO IDEA', because I surely didn't have any.

We all went back to work after lunch. By the end of working hours which was four in the evening, I was still stuck on page nine of the draft I was working on. All this while, I was just mumbling to myself. I was on the self debate to convince myself that it was just a mere attraction towards something beautiful. I was always telling myself,

'I don't even know her name',

'I don't even know where she has come from',

'nor do I know the kind of person she is'.

Yet, something about her was fluttering my heart away, and I found myself replaying that moment when our eyes met, over and over again.

That night, I sat in front of my window as still as a statue until I caught sight of her. I just saw her for a minute. Again, I wish I could describe the happiness that streamed through my veins at that moment.

However, I was still stubborn and was denying the fact. I turned around and told myself all over again, 'this is just an attraction', and I slowly climbed up to my bed with a smile as luminous as the morning Sun.