One Afternoon

It was a Sunday afternoon in the month of March. The house had withdrawn into silence while he took a siesta.

At tea time, about 4 p.m., he woke up and strolled towards alcove, yawning. She noticed his shadow drawing close to take shape on the floor under the daylight illuminating the alcove, and then reverted to reading. He sat with her on the divan where she was reading. He began- I had a dream today. I was in a café waiting for you when my clients came. I left with them not sure if you ever visited the café behind me. 

She looked up, and replied- Were your clients in an urgency? 

He said- I don't know. I remember them mentioning a usual affair, nothing special. 

She replied- I suppose you're mildly bugged that your personal life might be taxed in the pursuit of catching up with your professional life. Haven't you been strained about this? 

He turned to face the window there and took some time to think before recommencing- I don't know. Perhaps. 

She asked if he would like to share anything. 

He looked at her contemplating at the ease he felt. Then he averted his stare blankly to the book she was reading. After a moment said- I guess that's how it always is. Should we be attentive we would realise what demands our attention. 

She added- Perhaps that is called instinct.

He said- One becomes a loser if they delay in paying attention to it. 

She rested her chin on her hand and looked at him. He looked back at her patiently.  She wondered if he wanted to talk more about it. Some days his countenance assumed sheer blankness. On such days he was absorbing peacefully, giving himself time to understand.  He expressed the least those days, perhaps, because had nothing to. He chose silence over prattle. It was not always possible to decipher him. However, it was given that he was placid and comfortable to be with everyday.  

She asked- Do you know what needs your attention right now?
He asserted that he isn't sure and added- I have felt this before. Infact, always do.
She reflected- But it fell to its place always.
He smirked and said- Perhaps it did.
Her eyes dilated and then she squinted and mimicked the word- Perhaps

The air resonated with the sound of worship being read in a nearby place of worship. 

He descried her face and said- Who knows if I do something wrong in the future.

She had reverted her sight down to the book's cover and didn't look at him and said- I would never find an appropriate reply to it. Its futile to argue on this with you. Can you not?

He looked at the book too now, and said- No, I cannot stop.

She set aside the book on the window sill. Although she realised that it might be grimy. On failing to find anything to wipe it, she reached for his shirt and pulled it- Give it to me.

She pulled him close and he was looking at her searchingly. She announced touching the grime and smearing it on him- Clean this.

He jerked, laughed and asked gathering himself together- Why would you do that?
She snapped- I don't know. You irritate me, sometimes.

She sat down still. He gauged that she might say something. He retained his place on the divan. After a few seconds, she sighed and averted sight away from him, outside the window. He realised that she had changed her mind against speaking. However, he had not changed his mind to listen. Poised, he turned around and laid his head on her lap with his hands on his chest. From beneath he witnessed a smile broke on her face. She enshrouded her free arms around him loosely and began- You felt the same always.

He asked- what? 

She said- There was always a deep uncertainty that you had about yourself and the world. 

He did not say anything. 

She added- It sounds fatalist to me. You fear things as if you cannot control it. Especially, when it's about you, why won't you be able to control your affairs. You could trust yourself, you can deal with things when they come. Anyway, there is nothing certain. 

He interrupted- I keep an account of possibilities. I keep you aware about them as well, and I do it because I do think that nothing is certain. Not even if I can be trusted. 

She remarked- Everything is fine at the moment, at present. Nobody has seen future, and yet you live there. You are not merely concerned about it. Everything you do is about it.

He replied- I fear of that a percent chance where things might go wrong.

She stressed- Fool. Quickly added another- That's humane to go wrong. Practically, it is too demanding of you.

He looked at her and said- Perhaps. Although, it is the same in your case, I kept distance because I fear a lot of things and I am uncertain.

She said- I think there are always many trivial factors, besides reasons we mention when we refrain from doing something. These trivial factors act as further impediments in our pursuit. As you said, these might be fears, uncertainities, and so on. Isn't it?

He replied- Yes. But I fail to find a proper expression for those. Not yet.

She stroked the book cover and uttered- I try to understand you. 

He placed his hand on hers and admitted- Yes, you do. 

She replied- People are different and this is why they try to understand each other. The worst part is that sometimes we might not understand ourselves too. 

He looked at her.

She added- I try to understand you by thinking of myself at your place. But sometimes, I fail to reckon your actions. Moreover, at times I prefer not to extend any understanding as it is too demanding. I fear though that if I did it for long, I might never get along. But I place this fear aside, and live. 

He asked- Do you think it's harsh if we eschew understanding people ?  

She replied- I don't know. I do it so that I don't exhaust my emotions. So that I can maintain a balance in life and can carry on with the humdrum. I want to avoid any action of audacity from my side. I avoid obesession and walking on extreme edges, I guess. 

There was a pause in activity altogether. 

He spoke to break the silence- I am listening. 

She asked- I know. 

He suggested- Tell me more. 

She imposed- Why don't you speak sometimes?

The sun crossed the horizon and dusk fell reverbearted with the chirping of birds.