Stars & Dreams

4)Eta Tauri - Determined and Protective

In spite of the approaching monsoon, Goa's shores were brimming with tourists. The beach they partied was private and there were a bunch of them dancing under the stars. Yohan and Nina slipped away from the party to make love. For Yohan, it was just sex but for Nina, it was more than sex as she cried out his name in the throes of passion.

"I love you Yohan. I have never loved anyone so much. Do you love me?" Nina whispered into his ears as they lay on the sands under the moonlit sky. She rested her face on his chest and smothered his chin with light feathery kisses.

"Of course, you know I do," Yohan replied without conviction. He refused to ponder the reason for lying to her. He sailed through life not pausing to reflect on his apathy towards relationships.

The deafening sound of crashing waves muted the noise of the party while the wide umbrella concealed them from intruding eyes. Yohan's instant response to her confession confused him. He said those words to all his girlfriends because it made them happy. He hated confrontations of any kind.

He gazed at the vast expanse of night sky, the silver arc of the moon glowing at them. In a low undertone, he quoted,

"Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows

Why fret about it if today be sweet?"

Nina looked at him in surprise, "What? Yohan, that was so cool. Who wrote it?"

Yohan sighed and in one fluid movement, he stood up and dusted the sand grains from his thighs. He offered his hand to her and she pulled on her clothes swiftly. Together, they strolled back to the party.

"Yohan, what did you recite back then? Were you rehearsing your lines?" s he asked anxiously as her dark eyes glanced at him.

"I suppose....." he replied with a smile, not willing to disclose his love for Omar Khayyam's poems, the Persian poet who had been a mathematician, astronomer and poet.

The party went on till the wee hours of the morning. Spirits flowed freely and they stumbled back to the room in inebriated state.

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Rumi wriggled in agony, her body drenched in sweat. It was dark around her and the moist wind blew in shrill whistle. Her hands trembled and her pulses raced. She was alone, trapped in an abyss with no way of escaping. Fear obstructing the functioning of her lungs, she felt short of breath. She writhed in pain. Someone was clutching her hands but Rumi was losing the grip and falling deeper and deeper into a bottomless pit...

Her eyes jerked open and she woke up in sweat. Her throat was parched and her body was wet and shivering. The nightmare...

She switched on the light and gulped down a glass of water. Taking long breaths; she tried to calm her quivering nerves. She refused to think about her dark dream. She realized that it was the phone call that had triggered the nightmare. Holding the glass of water, she sauntered into the kitchen and watched the lashing rains through window panes. Thinking of her dreams, she thought she had left those memories behind because it had no place in her life now. But the visions haunted her till the crows stirred at the first rays of the dawn and the newspaper boy roused everyone with his cheery greeting.

Her work for the television show was over and she didn't have to go anywhere that morning. Her agency had called her last night with a role in a comedy. She didn't mind the role but the shoot would take place in Kolkata. She didn't want to go back to Kolkata.

Her cell phone vibrated with an incoming message. It was from Ujjwal. He was in Toronto with Ziva on an official trip. He shared his close-up selfie, captioning it 'bored'. He was listening to Ziva's lecture in the University auditorium.

"Looks like you are enjoying yourself," Rumi replied with a tongue-out emoticon.

"Sure I do....I am thinking of ways to write a movie script."

Rumi laughed at his desperation. It was a well-known fact that Ujjwal never liked to note down anything on paper. He always recorded instructions and worked on audio or video presentations. He hated to read long write-ups or keep track of written instructions or work. Ziva teased him that his dislike for words stemmed from his agriculture background. His family owned mustard farms in Haryana and he was the only one who had slipped away to the city. Rest of his family was settled near Rohtak.

"You must be really bored Ujjwal. When are you coming back?"

"Friday I suppose. Ziva may change program at last-minute. Who knows?"

"I can imagine..."

"I miss you babe....I wish I was there now. Hope you are missing me and not eyeing some stud."

Rumi chuckled at his query, "You are the best stud that I know, so catch a plane fast..."

"Yes yes, I will. Ziva is calling me....Bye babe...Miss me," and he disappeared.

Ziva always came first for him. Rumi sometimes wondered if he ever gave more importance to anyone other than his boss Ziva.

After rustling up breakfast, she pulled a book out of the rack and started reading it. The collection of stories was set in the U.S. and Vietnam, narrating poignant tales of refugees who had fled Vietnam. The stories were frightening and it brought back deeply buried memories. She closed the book and tossed it aside. Ritika was not in town. She had gone visiting her parents and Parth was spending most of his days at his girl friend's house.

She turned on the Wi-Fi and searched for families named Roy once again. This was a daily ritual. It could be a Bengali Roy or an English Roy. The options were many and she had no specific clue about the ways to trace a Roy girl. Whatever be the result, she would never stop looking for her kid sister. Her sister had been two years old when she was snatched away from Rumi and her family. It was almost eighteen years now. Rumi was six years old then when her sister had gone missing.

She would never give up till she found her sister even if all the odds were against her.

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Yohan had no interest in tasting any of the items on the brunch spread at the resort. His head was pounding and he sipped the black coffee flavored with lemon. Nina was still asleep and he had crept out of the room quietly. Last night had been wild. He was surprised that he was awake and kicking. They had smoked weed, gulped down many tequila shots and snorted bit of crack. And yet, here he was uncaring and listless. He could not find any of his friends in the dining room and he guessed that they were still on the bed. He poured another cup of coffee when his cell phone rang. It was his uncle.

"Hello, Yohan..."

"Good morning Chachu!"

"Beta your dadi is not well. Can you come home soon?"

"What is it Chachu? Where is she now?" Yohan asked with thumping heart while the throbbing behind his eyes intensified...

"She had a heart attack last night. She is in the hospital but critical."

"I am leaving immediately chachu. If she asks for me, please tell her I am on my way."

His grandmother was the only person he was close to. She was his mother, father, confidant and friend all rolled into one. Since his grandfather's death two years ago, his grandmother and he had grown closer. They lived in the bungalow owned by his grandparents while his uncles and aunts stayed in their own houses.

Yohan did not wait to board a flight or train. He rented a cab and departed from Goa right away. He left a word with the manager of the resort and posted a message on the group. He reached Mumbai in less than nine hours.

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