She sat there on that aged rock, half-submerged into the green silk of the rumpled hillside, her knees drawn up to her chest and her freshly shampooed hair inviting the clear, blue mountain breeze to bring them back to life.

She knew another hour in the infidel sun's presence (it played hide-and-seek so very often, what else could you call it?) would mean a little more waiting and a whole world more of heartache, but the wet strands would dry up to curl in short waves that could do without the brash electric hair dryer's noisy and uncertain heat-waves.

At times, she could swear it sounded like her neighbor's incessant droning about how unfortunate she, Snighdha, was to have married Aniruddh. Snighdha always played the same record of how Aniruddh could have earned more/looked smarter/gone abroad/aged less/vacationed in Copa Cabana/lost less hair if only he'd listened to her - his all-knowing wife's - sage advice.

Of course, what Snighdha's exact words were, were completely lost on Roohie, from the 3rd sentence onwards for Roohie completely tuned out to her own space.

(What sense did it make to bother wasting personal time and energy on someone who could find fault with even the way the flowers grew?)

Besides, Aniruddh was so easy-going and Mr.India rubber-ball personified - he had that resilient tendency to bounce back after any set-back or verbal dousing from his wife, Snighdha, or for that matter, anyone else- that it was hard to 'un-like' him once you'd met and already laughed in his happy shadow.

Yes, that's the kind of man Aniruddh effortlessly was. Calm, filled with quiet humor and ageless wisdom to know and accept people and places as they are without feeling compelled to do something about them, ruddy complexioned and medium built with a face no one would look at twice - unless they felt they could touch him - for money.

That he readily parted with his money as he did with grouses, kept Snighdha's temper on a boil perpetually. It was thus, good for Aniruddh that he got to stay away from home so often, so long, thanks to his touring job in the real estate business - it helped keep the peace.

And Roohie smiled sadly at the thought. Imagine, having to keep spaces in between themselves just to keep their marriage going - but that was Aniruddh's and Snighdha's lot.

She ran her fingers absent-mindedly through her semi-dry hair and rested her palms beside her on the craggy rock, looking out and actually noticing the view before her that she had so far only been gazing at for so long, in a haze.

So much had changed in the last 3 years since she came to Sattal after Arabind died in that awful bomb blast in Hyderabad: so much, and yet, so little seemed different.

She felt like the old Roohie at times, vibrant, seeking new challenges (she'd actually gone para-gliding for $20 (they gave discounts if you paid in foreign currency - American hangover, she supposed as she'd paid her charge) with a local flight instructor at the neighboring hill-station last month on a whim and felt like she owned the earth she'd loomed over for less than an hour), exchanging recipes and dishes with neighbors and colleagues, looking for a guru to help guide her about the vagaries of the stock-market

Roohie had actually thought that could have been a side-business and she could learn to pick up Rs1500 every day from short-selling if she just understood which stocks to buy and when to sell besides getting the hang of calculating the brokerage etc...

That she never got around to making any money besides that, which came in the form of interest paid by her play-safe FD's at State Bank every month, did not worry her so much now. She still needed to keep trying till she knew she'd failed on every attempt allowed to her by Life. That's the way the old Roohie was: tenacious. It still came through at some points in her new life - as in the way she had braved the winds, wild-terrain and long walk to come away to her resting place this afternoon.

The new Roohie was milder, prone to taking less risks and ready to make an about-turn at the first sign of imminent danger (which could be the potential of an electric shock from a hair dryer used in the bathroom, standing on a wet floor or even a nosy eldery neighbor, prying for information on her personal life or that of others living nearby), quieter and isolated from the corporate world where she and Arabind - her husband of 7months- had just started making the management sit up and notice them for their ground-breaking technology ideas and systematic approach to software development for SMEs in their parent company (in New York). 

............

Life in Hyderabad was predictable only on week-days for Roohie and Arabind - a much-in-love with life and each other couple, keen on establishing an organized home and office routine for themselves and working smart instead of hard (like their government servant parents who'd gotten none of the appreciation due to them for selfless, dedicated and honest service of over 40 years and a quarter of what their less scruplous colleagues made at the end of the same, retiring with the benefits of 'palm-greasings' that bought them Mercedes-Benzes and holidays in Gay Paree!)

Week-days had been for intimate dinners or friendly get-togethers with other young couples from the IBM office they worked at in Hyderabad besides trying out new trends in leisure sports and activities!

Once Arabind, in his zest for doing the unusual, had decided to spend the day only taking SUVs for trial rides - and initially, Roohie couldn't understand the excitement he felt when he proposed the idea. But, going through the rigmarole of joy-riding with a license and seeing the thrill in Arabind's smoky-brown eyes that Saturday had been worth all the fighting apprehensions routine she'd had to deal with before giving in to his boyish demand.

She'd taken to the wheel for the Rhino Rx - and one other foreign collaboration SUV (she forgot which, seeing the integrated controls and sheer luxury of the interiors - trust a woman, grinned Arabind.) and known the force of owning a vehicle that ate up the miles while keeping you snug in its ABS enhanced body!

They had been planning on buying one such for themselves that weekend - in fact, right after the visit to the Food Court at the newly opened Mall in the City-side in Hyderabad, they were scheduled to meet up with Keya and Prashanth, their colleagues from the ISL (India Software Labs) team, to hand in the down-payments and finish with paper-work for the brand new Honda CR-V!

And then, the blast that shattered their lives forever, took place. In the stampede that followed, Roohie couldn't imagine human beings being trampled upon like the fruit of the earth that fell from the favor of rich, overladen trees.

Perhaps, Mother Nature had felt something like that too - with too many people clamoring for space on her bosom  - and that is why the earth had parted in many ways for Roohie and Arabind. Her last memory was an arm stretched towards her, its fingers washed with blood and aching for the comfort of her touch - and then Arabind was never seen again.

When she'd come to, she was at a private nursing home, transferred out by friends, Keya and Prashanth, who'd known where to find her after news of the blast had spread through the city and the wounded had been transported to the government hospital. Her parents were inconsolable - apparently a widowed daughter was harder to deal with than a dead son-in-law.

Arabind - or what was left of him - was found two days later. They hadn't let her see him. She hadn't thought she'd ever want not to either.

Apparently, he was in no state to be seen - by anybody that loved him or anyone wishing to get on with the daily business of living without such a sight to haunt them, for it would have - forever:. That is the case with headless bodies, a head cracked halfway down the skull and lying in a vice-like grip of a shorn arm belonging to a fellow victim in a mindless terrosist attack, you see.

4 months of agonizing and negotiating with parents (his and hers) had eventually enabled Roohie to close the Hyderabad chapter in her life, sell their two bedroom flat and luxuries they had once thought were conveniences they couldn't do without , until the day she had no qualms in selling them to complete strangers for a tidy sum. That was before moving to Sattal, the lake-town in the coniferous confines of Kumaon.

Kumaon was far from the known, the loved and the lost - and a sleepy hollow Roohie had hoped would lull her to rest, which, it seemed, had abandoned her even at night after a hard day's work spent trying to keep those memories and happier, older ones at bay.

......              .............                 ..........                ................         ............ 

His lips felt soft on her now-dry hair as he eased her into his arms to give her a comfort she didn't really try figuring out she could accept from him. No tears came even as they threatened to drown her with their imminent arrival - it felt so good to have him near. 

He'd bought her some dog-eared books and a couple of new ones from his last trip to Dehradun even though she'd told him she'd easily get them on Indiaplaza.com. 

The books were in a small jute-sack.

How did he know she'd imagined them like that? Had he really remembered her words from nearly 3 years ago when they'd first met and she'd vaguely mentioned her love for reading - her idea of an ideal day being getting a sack full of books, a bunch of green apples and a tree to sit under by herself and indulge in her favorite pastime.

....

That's as far as their relationship went. It was the first time he'd kissed her - and it hardly felt like anything she'd known before or would, she tried to reconcile with her heart. Was there any emotion in it? She didn't have the heart to find out - it was sufficient to have the moment of tranquil togetherness.

.....

He sat below her rock-seat on the dewy grass and fallen leaves - the pine needles never pricked him and neither did the bull-ants bother him. Even the rough-hewed pebbles seemed to absorb his presence as one of them, as they rolled slowly over to make a comfortable seat for him.

"What did you write today?” he asked.

Roohie was still clutching the sack to herself -and her intense, overwhelming joy over the gesture. She swallowed hard at the words and willed her hands to move around to the side of the rock to pick up her small note-book, “Only this."

He reached out without a word, setting down the bottle of spring-water he'd filled on his walk up to their Quiet Place, 9miles from Sattal's little hub of town-shops and up into the wilds of forest-country.

Ony he'd be clueless enough to wear a pink shirt (not because he subscribed or even understood tags like Uber-cool and metro-sexual, but because someone gave it to him and he couldn't think of offending a gift-giver, however suspect in taste the gift itself. These 'chachi-types' I tell you, mused Roohie, sneaking a peek at him through lowered eyelashes that lifted to look out at the humbling landscape before them.)

He read in silence the frugal lines she'd written in her neat, practised hand just an hour ago.

"For me?" Gruffly, yet softly enough to touch something deep inside of her.

"Yes."

"May I?" He queried even more gently.

He ran a finger over the words and felt the paper come alive with their unspoken bond of mutual peace - the peace they gave each other simply by being there.

He tore the page out carefully, meditatively and folded it into a square, patting it in his plaid shirt pocket as if to keep it close to his heart to give him strength and comfort for another day's living, loving and duty-abiding routine to be followed.

It wasn't easy being Snigdha's husband. But with Apple-Blossom Dreams, it wouldn't be that difficult to deal with everyday life and responsibilities.

So simple, so sweet -  just like Roohie, ("my Love" - Arabic) who was his Heart's ease, were the lines; the Roohie who suffered limited -sight ever since the blast - and had ended writing over her own lines even with the effort she must have undoubtedly put in to ensure the words were written in order.

Aniruddh knew how to unravel Roohie's over-lapping lines and had read it all just right, these Apple-Blossom Dreams were meant for both of them. 

Swishing

and

Wishing

(for wings,

party shoes,

for sacksful of books,

for talking roads-maps

and out-of-stock things:

like gentle persuasion

and tender love-themes

and one lifetime stands..)

Earth to Skye calling

..."Apple-blossom dreams,

haazir ho!!"

They sat in silence for an hour - or a lifetime - they didn't really care to find out. It was enough to sit in companionable quiet where words were superfluous and sometimes not understood by those that claim to love us too.

He should know - he had enough flung at him by Snighdha, her parents, his own, the avaricious boss that bade him travel odd hours for scouting the hills for 'land-pitches' and 'moti -murgi phassoe yaar,' type deals; deals that like these fragile relationships had long ceased to be, for lack of nurturing and compassion necessary to keep the bonds between them and his heart alive.

Then, whistling low to summon Donkey, (that was the name of Roohie's shaggy, companion of two years - he had first taken notice of Roohie's inherent smilyness, if there can be one such virtue, when she'd laughed low and explained the dog was shy and stupid but intensely loyal, therefore the name), Aniruddh rose to his feet.

Brushing the dry leaves off his jeans, he whispered in to Donkey's ear that he was handing over Roohie's charge to him and needed him to guide her safely back home through the woods so Roohie could reach in time before the milkman came to her house and Aniruddh could get on his way too, before Snighdha began working herself up for another verbal war with him coz he came home without the fresh paneer, dahi and mutton she'd asked him to fetch when he returned from his ''touring.''

Only Snighdha could make ‘touring’ sound like a cuss-word.

.... 

Donkey came clumsily down the mountainside and brushed against Roohie's frail legs, encased in blue jeans after getting his daily dose of ear-scratching and paw-games from Aniruddh. Roohie slowly clasped her fine, long and lonely fingers over the walking stick Aniruddh held out to her (she only needed it on the uneven, hilly terrain as though her eyesight was limited and her leg muscles weak, she had enough strength in them when coupled with intense will power to go about simple tasks like reading a little, walking a little and living a little everyday. And for her, that was enough...funny, how happy, just enough could make Aniruddh and her, too...funny, how strangers from opposite backgrounds could be heart's ease for each other in intangible, almost non-tacticle ways, funny, how  Donkey came into her life when everyone was going out...).

Roohie let Donkey guide her down to the main road before she looked up to see Aniruddh's faint form descend the other side of the hill before he climbed into his car to set off for Snighdha's and his home.

Funny, how they both lived next-door and had to meet, part and greet each other surreptiously - and she was the one invited to dinner at their place tonight but having to walk all the way there just to help keep the peace....in Aniruddh's heart and Snighdha's and her own.

 

That's the way some Apple-Blossom Dreams go.