The day was slow, like it refused to move any faster than the other days. It was 12 in the afternoon, a Sunday. There was a silence of unique nature around.
Outside the ajar door of the Chawla household, Anju stood near the road in front, looking around. What bothered her was not the office work that she had to attend to every day, it was something more.
A neighbourhood small boy, lovingly called Gappu, came bicycling by and he stopped near Anju, “Can you hear them too?”
Anju smiled at Gappu and asked, “Hear whom?”
“They are there, they don’t come out usually, but now they are everywhere. I can hear their voices. I will find them out,” said Gappu, very serious about what he had set out to do
“Is this about one of your books with ghost stories again?” asked Anju still smiling
Gappu was visibly quite bothered and insulted by the comment. He spoke nothing more and simply bicycled away. Anju looked at him go and then noticed Mrs Dhar walking by on the other side of the road. Mrs Dhar noticed Anju as well and she smiled as she usually did and that was it. Mrs Dhar almost never interacted beyond smiling, people used to think maybe she was mute, but rumours of her speaking were around, in a very slow voice that needed really good focus and hearing to be heard.
Anju spoke in a voice loud enough to reach Mrs Dhar, “Do you know what has happened?”
But in return there was nothing but movement of lips. Mrs Dhar had spoken something, and in some part of her mind Anju had heard it because Mrs Dhar walked on after speaking.
Anju took out her smartphone and looked at its screen. It had 8% battery and was in battery saver mode. She returned to her house, where her paternal grandmother sat by the open window, peacefully knitting a sweater and humming a music that had been popular in her time. She looked at Anju and smiled, almost laughed.
Anju dragged a chair near her, sat and spoke, “It looks like you are enjoying this.”
Grandmother focused on her knitting and spoke, “Only if you had something to do that did not require electricity.”
“It is not supposed to happen. I don’t even remember the last time there was such a long electricity cut,” said Anju
“Why not read one of the books your father keeps getting for you?”
Anju looked at the shelf at all the new books that had a thin layer of dust. Her father was on one of his business travels to another state and her mother had accompanied him.
“I was reading about it,” said grandmother, “about this unplugging, people are saying one should try it once in a while.”
“I am yet to meet a person who has tried it,” replied Anju
“Why not be the person, that way others will have met one,” said grandmother
“I am not a smartphone or television addict. It is just that it is a Sunday, I use the time to connect to friends and family, that’s all”
“No boyfriends? I mean have you found another one yet?”
Anju looked at her grandmother who was trying her best not to laugh. Anju wondered how the word had passed around. It had to be her younger brother Vishal who was out with his friends. He had very conveniently used the electricity cut as an excuse to not study, saying the lack of proper light strained his eyes.
As Anju closed her eyes, she could feel the air, it was a familiar speed that brushed against her, it was the one from the ceiling fan. The electricity was back. She looked at her grandmother and decided to keep sitting and not head straight away to charge up her smartphone.
“Found you,” came a voice as Anju and her grandmother looked at the window at Gappu peeking in.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
One response to “Choosing Different”
What an intriguing beginning! I love the slow, almost dreamlike atmosphere you have created—the unusual silence, the strange voices, Gappu’s mysterious warning, Mrs Dhar’s unreadable words, and the sudden electricity cut all make you feel that something is about to happen.
LikeLike