Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

This is one chapter in the lives of Albus and Norah. Written by Albus and Norah.


“Fatigued and sleepy, he got into the morning bus to meet an unassuming diva waiting at the other side. Alexi Murdoch kept him company and 3 hours later, he was in the area outside Bombay. The calm that stood before him made him forget the blistering heat. Her half broken smile and seeking eyes framed him. And he happily walked into the cave. A meal at an American joint started the day and by the end of it, he too said, ‘I’m loving it’. The hair bands came out. His fingers greeted her hair. Both the hands and the hair had waited for weeks. A familiar feeling crept in. Comfort had slowly seeped in. The red hair band that pulled her hair back made her look rather adorable. But he had to do more. Stolen kisses in between an animated feature kept the desired flame simmering. A romantic comedy came to the rescue. Under its shade two lips locked. They lost each other in their closed eyes. And found each other with their lips. They sank deep, for minutes on end. The kiss had an eternal effect. Lingering and never ending.”

“Accompanied by the sounds of house music, she and he sat on a carpet covered bench in the shade of the bamboos as dusk turned the sky from orange to pink. Smoke twirled in little spirals around their faces, as they sat close to each other, tasting apple mint in the hookah. She blew smoke out of her nostrils and coughed, he disappeared in a haze of fine white smoke and tears. He pulled her hair to the side of her neck and braided it expertly. She smiled. He smiled back as he poked her dimpled cheek. Candles were lit, so were their hearts. She kept her head against the backrest and observed the intricate patterns of blue and maroon in the carpet that hung above their heads like a tent, like a shelter. Her eyes shifted and the pattern moved, as if telling her something. She felt his fingers on her nape. She closed
her eyes. ‘You and I, in this beautiful world’ blared from her cell phone and
jolted her back into the present. She looked at the flashing screen. It was an unidentified number. In her mind flashed his last words, ‘You and I, in this beautiful world’. She got up and waltzed with herself. There, he hung up.”


“She stared at the phone for minutes. He had hung up. But his voice, still lingered. She turned off the stereo and snuggled like a cat on her couch. The bell rang. It was way past midnight. She thought it would be him. But wasn’t sure. It was wishful thinking. But then again, he was a mad hatter. One could never tell. She had a minute. She could delay opening the door by a minute. She had to take a chance. She rushed to the basin. Untied her hair and immersed it in water. When the hair was drenched in water, she brushed it all back. Frantically, she emptied her closet. It was that black kajal she was looking for. The one that drove him crazy. She donned it with grace. Quickly sliding into that black singlet, she approached the door. She still had 5 seconds. Would he pounce? Would he assess his prey – me? Would he just play with the idea? Or would he….She opened the door. At that moment, she did want him to be there. A fear had engulfed her. Maybe she wanted him, but wasn’t ready to face him.  IT WAS HIM.”


“She stared at him blankly and slowly a smile broke out on her face, like the first ray of sunlight. He always had that effect on her. He was sunlight, the sun’s blessing. He pushed past her and lay down on the couch she had vacated some seconds back. She went to him. His face was buried deep in the white cushion and she could hear his deep breathing, almost as though he were trying to inhale her fragrance through every grain of that leathery surface. She touched his smooth hair; he turned his face and looked at her. The bloodshot eyes looked deep into her bewildered ones. And the connection was complete; once again as though it had never broken. A drop of water on her eyelash woke her up. She was in bed. In a black singlet. Hair sleeked back, drenched. There was no one around.  She got up, walked to the mirror. Her kajal was smudged and her lips were painted a stark red. She reached a finger out and looked up again. This time she saw him in the mirror.”


“He blindfolded her. She was waiting. Feared and yet wanting his touch. He ran one finger down her nape. Her body quivered like it always did. He held her from behind. Around her waist. That slender waist. And gave a soft peck on her cheek. He ran his nose around her ears. Licked her ear. Bit her earlobe. And then sank his lips into her neck. His lips were singing a symphony. Her neck could make out it was bittersweet. He went from one end to the other, carving marks along the way. Maybe it was a reminder he wanted to give her. Just to remind her, that this was not a dream. He was here. He turned her around and removed the blindfold. Those dreamy eyes, hypnotized. Trapped his gaze. And then made him drown. He happily obliged. As he got lost in her gaze, she took a step forward. It was like the moment had to be acknowledged. Both shut their eyes. The lips met. For long. And decided not to part. That eternal kiss still had its charm. It was a meeting of souls, greeted by bodies. Her hands were lost in his hair, while his was just pushing her hair back. It was like they were never meant to part. When they opened their eyes, she turned around, hinting him to make a braid in that wet hair. “Tight”, she ordered. He tied it tighter than she had asked him. Occasional grunts explained that. She dragged him near the door and opened it. Take me, she said. Where to my love? He prodded.”


“’To that place where we can be together, where no lines on the map separate us. Where, I alone can make you happy. Where you’d love me the way I love you”, she said. She knew that place was the bubble she had been living in, Alone. And would always be. Because, he was reality.”


“He stopped in his tracks. And grabbed her hair, looking deep in her eyes. He wanted to go away with her. For a week. In the mountains. Just she and him. Writing. Making love. And writing some more. The solitude would be their own. The mountains will echo their grunts. The winds will take the chapters forward. The flowers will bloom with her beauty. The fire will burn in his eyes. The pages will brim with pride. The bed will quiver with pleasure. She could click. He would click. It would be perfect.  But then again, he knew she wouldn’t come. He let her hair go. He let her go. And walked away. Somewhere deep down, he wanted her to stop him.”


“She turned around and walked into her bedroom. He walked away, towards the door that would take her out of her apartment and her life. There was finality in their strides which made her turn around. In that moment he peeped from behind the open door and their eyes met. A thousand words were exchanged without words. They knew their souls were united forever even if their bodies never would.”


“A few months later, he returned.”


“And she was still his, like he had never left.”


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