Winds of Despair

ON THE TERRACE

Samantha exhaled a puff of smoke from her chapped lips. The cigarette wrapped around her fingers, burnt with a fiery aura. She leaned back on the terrace wall, staring at the stars. Her greasy face glistened under the moonlight. Her uncombed hair, imprisoned in rubber bands, missed their freedom. They received a short bail when she washed her hair, only to be locked up again. In college, her hair—styled in beachy waves, or straight—swayed with the wind. At weekends, she massaged her hair with coconut oil infused with hibiscus flowers, curry leaves, and other herbs, which her mother had made for her.

"Your hair is the most beautiful feature. Always care for them," she had said.

Samantha missed her mother. She struggled to believe the bitter, unreal events which befell upon her a month back. She was not ready to mourn yet.

She stood up, brushed her loose clothes and crushed the cigarette butt with her foot. She didn't enjoy smoking; it didn't give her the kick that her friends claimed to get when they smoked. Yet, she smoked every day, for reasons she could not fathom. The cancer warning scared her no more. A part of her wanted to end things.

A silhouette of a boy played peekaboo with moonlight on the opposite terrace. Samantha saw him every night since she started her midnight smoking ventures to the terrace. His shoulders, once broad, slouched under the weight of grief. His house, which blared with Metallica songs every day, was quiet. The street where his friend honked his motorbike every evening was empty. Samantha never bothered to know his name. He was only a guy from neighborhood.

Aakash saw her every midnight, smoking on the opposite terrace. He knew her well. He had seen her grow up. Her hairstyles changed with time — a boy's cut when she was little, two little ponies in primary school, one big pony in middle school and a braid in high school. She left for college and returned on breaks, flaunting her styled hair, highlighted with strands of funky colors. But this time when she arrived home, her hair was clumsy, knotted in a bun, and they have been the same ever since.

Aakash gazed at the twinkling stars every night. He didn't believe that the dead turned into stars—as his grandmother had told him when he was a kid—but he looked at them anyway, hoping to find his best friend. He had so much planned, a trip to Goa, a startup, what not. But his plans transpired to nothing.

"You're like a brother to me," he had said.

Aakash missed his best friend. He struggled to believe that his friend was no longer sitting beside him, with a can of beer in his hand. He was not ready to mourn yet.

The next night, Samantha and Aakash sat in the same place, with same thoughts as last night. The street light, which usually flickered and died, turned on today to see two souls connecting under a sense of loss. They looked at each other for a long time, but made no attempt to talk.

The street light burned bright every night, hoping to see them mourn and get rid of the boulder they heaved upon their hearts.

One night, things were different. The girl didn't smoke, and the boy sat with his guitar and a pick, a gift from his friend.

Music is a piece of art. It can detangle hearts from rusted chains of emotions. As the boy strummed the tune on the guitar, the girl's eyes strummed tears of sorrow. She sobbed, leaning on the wall. The boy hummed a tune, his voice choked at every chord progression.

The street light witnessed them sobbing every night. The boulder eroded with music and time.

One night, they met; not on the terrace, but under the streetlight, their faces half covered with a mask. Samantha could hear Kishore Kumar playing on the stereo of his home. Aakash could smell the coconut fragrance from her neatly combed, open hair.

The street light flickered with a cheerful tune, mesmerized with the fragrance of hope.

***

This chapter is dedicated to all the people who have lost someone in the COVID era.

Kishore Kumar, a music prodigy from India, is famous for his evergreen songs, which are loved by all people. 

Mettalica, is a famous American heavy metal band.