Flight of the Shikra

We talked of other things. Then I told her I may come in late if my flight, the next day, gets delayed.

"Our movie starts at 10 in the morning, so we need to leave by 9. You won't get to sleep till late," she laughed. And here I was, wondering if I would get any sleep at all waiting for Sunday to dawn.

The flight was late. I reached home close to midnight, I set my alarm for 7 and went to bed.......

"Lady, your chariot and your charioteer are waiting...." I texted at 9.

A white bundle of energy burst out of her door, rushed towards me and enveloped me in a hug. "I missed you buddy, I really did," she screamed.

Her relatively long hair in a high ponytail her shades above her forehead, a sparkling white shirt accentuating her firm bust-line, slim light blue jeans, I had that impulsive urge kiss her. But you don't just grab and kiss an Indian woman you have known for just a few days.

"Hey teenager on steroids, can you hold me tighter please?" I flirted.

She squeezed hard before she released me. "I will keep more of that for the movie, now get in and drive, I will give you the directions."

We reached the multiplex in 30 minutes and wandered around the complex. "I am going to take your picture," I said whipping out my phone. She struck a pose, I clicked. Then she came around, hung on to my arm and said,

"Quick, take a selfie of both of us." I went click, click, click.

She had chosen the seats well, the corner seats of the last row.

"This way, I sit in the corner and you sit next to me and no creep gets to sit on the other side," she said. She held on tight to my arm, and I was very conscious of her breasts pressing against them.

"I didn't know you liked horror movies," I said, as the movie we were to watch was a 1925 classic called 'The Phantom of the Opera.'

"I need an adrenalin rush, and you get to hold me tight when I start screaming," she winked, with a mischievous smile. I slowly eased my arm from her grasp, placed it around her shoulder and held her tightly to me.

"I think I will hold you tight, real tight, throughout the movie, except of course for the popcorn break."

"Mmmmm that feels real good, she said, resting her head on my shoulders."

We watched the whole movie with her head on my shoulder and my arm holding her tight, my cheek against her hair and yes, she did scream when the scary parts came along. I got the popcorn during the intermission and continued to hold her for the rest of the break and the movie, and finally, the show came to an end and so did those cosy magical moments.

As planned , we went to this small restaurant that serves 'Chaats,' the typical range of spicy, tangy, Indian street food. We talked about the movie, the book, the movie making techniques of that decade. Then it was time to return.

Narasimha

I missed Narasimha so much, that when he came down, I charged out to hug him. He looked so cute in his black jeans and a grey tee shirt. Round collars suit him so well, accentuating his slim long neck, I so wanted to kiss his neck and bite off a chunk out of it at the same time. But until I was sure I wanted this friendship to turn into a relationship, I was not going to initiate anything. Nevertheless, I was finding it difficult to contain my impulses.

He had called me a 'teenager on steroids' and that is exactly what I was feeling like. That coupled with the thrill of a horror movie and his arms around me all the while made me feel intoxicated and dizzy. And I kept telling myself, "Take it easy girl, you are 38, and 8 years older than him, you have no idea how this is going to pan out." But sometimes the heart will not listen to the brain.

I recalled the conversation I had with Suman a couple of days ago, when I told her she was glowing after the confirmation of her pregnancy.

"It's all in the hormones sweetie, I can see that just a few hours with Narasimha on the phone is causing your eyes to sparkle."

I agreed, that he was having an effect on me and it was almost certain that I too was having an affect on him.

"Don't push anything, just go with the flow, enjoy the moments and let things happen naturally," she advised.

"But I am so much older to him," I said.

"That is his call, and if that will lead to a heartbreak down the line, I know you have the stuff in you to shake it off, preserve the memories and move on."

"It will take me some time to get physically close to another man Suman. You know the last one ended badly and for no fault of mine."

"Yes, I know, and I also know you have kept men out of your life for too long for no fault of theirs. Like I said, tread carefully, but go with the flow."

As Narasimha and I drove back, we were silent most of the time, but something almost mystical was going happen a little while from now that would make me rethink a lot of things, and around a couple of weeks later, something else would happen that would start changing my life forever.

We stepped into his apartment. "I have never ever stepped into this apartment when a tenant was occupying it," I said.

Narasimha came forward, placed his hands on my shoulders, and then moved them to my cheeks to cup my face. "Neela, I want you to get this into your pretty little head, and I am dead serious. I am your tenant only for the few microseconds it takes for my bank to transfer the rent electronically to your bank account. The rest of the time, I am your friend, your buddy, your confidante. The day you say that I am not any or all of these, much as it will hurt, I will respect your wishes and revert to the status of a tenant full time."

"I didn't mean to offend you Narasimha."

"You didn't. Maybe it is just my convoluted way of telling you that you are welcome here any time, every time, all the time, and you and your company mean a lot to me. I have been very happy these past few days, and it is not just because of this fabulous apartment that you have let out to me."

I leaned forward towards him, my head came up to his chin, I tilted my head and softly kissed his neck. He held me for a while and then he kissed my eyelids, one by one.

"Time to see that long thing of yours," I said flirtatiously.

Quick on the uptake, he grinned, "Yes, it is time to show you my telescope."

Then he paused, "Let me start up the coffee maker first. I promise you, you will not get this kind of South Indian filter 'Kaapi' anywhere in this city."

He gently removed the covers that he had over the telescope, You could see by its finish that it was something top class. He lovingly fiddled with some knobs and dials and a crazy question entered my head, "Will he be so loving when he touches my nipples, and all those other nooks and crannies that ache when I think of him?" I looked away and caught my face in the mirror on the adjacent wall. Yes, I was blushing.......

"I am sure as an engineer you know how telescopes work, the basic principles are the same laws that govern reflection from mirrors and refraction through lenses. So I have this large lens here that collects a lot of light and creates a small image at its focus, and a small lens on the other end that magnifies this small image into a big one.

The real stuff is in the tracking mechanism. As the earth rotates, we see the stars rotating in the opposite direction around a star called Polaris or the Pole Star. So once I align the telescope to the Pole Star and then point it towards any other star, the telescope's tracking motor follows the star as it moves, else we will have to keep adjusting the telescope to keep the star in view.

We will keep the star gazing for later when the stars come out, but let me show you some stuff through this telescope. I am changing the eye pieces to convert this to a terrestrial spotter scope."

He moved the telescope to the balcony, and looked around for a minute and then pointed it in the direction of a cell phone tower a few hundred meters away.

"Come here Neela," he said, his eyes still fixed on the tower, his hand extended backwards and towards me. I stepped forward and took his hand and he pulled me close to him.

"Look carefully at that tower, just below the third rectangular panel from the right, the one that has a blue streak across it. See it?"

I nodded.

"Now look just below it, do you see a bird perched there?"

It took me some time, and then I saw something that looked brown and furry. I nodded again.

"That bird looks like a Shikra," and he peered through the telescope and made some more adjustments. "Now look through the telescope, place your hand on this knob and gently turn it clockwise or counterclockwise to get the bird into focus."

"It is so huge," I said.

"The telescope makes it look very big, it would actually be about the length of your forearm. It is also called the Little Banded Goshawk. As would be obvious to you, the name 'Shikra' is derived from the Urdu word 'Shikari,' that translates to 'hunter.' Look at its beak, do they resemble that of an eagle or a kite?"

"Yes."

"Look at the breast, do you see wavy pinkish lines?"

"Yes"

"Look at the tail, Do you see three or four horizontal black bands?"

"Yessss" I said excitedly. "The bird is so still, only its head is moving around..."

"Look at the eyes, do you see a yellowish red tinge around the central black portion?"

"Orange it looks to me....... It looks so majestic... and confident... and powerful..." I gripped Narasimha's hand tightly.

"That is a female, the males have red eyes, she is looking at the grassy area below for a rat, a small squirrel or a lizard. She has very sharp eyes that can see small prey far far away. Very soon she will swoop down and either carry her kill back to the tower or to another treetop or to her nest somewhere else."

"You saw the beak, the tail, the breast, the eyes and all that in just those couple of seconds you peered through this telescope and identified that bird? I can't believe this!"

"Stick with me Neela, you will become a better birder than I."

I went back to the telescope. "She is still there, I want to see her fly, shoo, shoo," I whispered, even though I knew that the bird couldn't hear me.

Then I straightened up. Then I went back to the telescope to watch it again. After a while my back began to hurt.

"Come, take a break, sit here in the balcony, I will get you the coffee." And he moved towards the kitchenette.

Then I screamed, "Narasimha... she did exactly what you said she would, she swooped down on something and carried it away to the trees over there...."

He came back grinning, and handed me a mug. "I made it my way.... strong.... Let me know if you need more sugar."

"It's good," I said. "Why is it called 'Kaapi'?"

"Technically, I think it is because the Tamil language does not have an 'f' sound. But most of us Tamilians would say that while coffee is just a drink, 'Kaapi' is an emotion."

"We Punjabis are tea drinkers mostly, but I like coffee, and you are right, this 'Kaapi' is out of this world."

"There is a beautiful poem on the Shikra, in Punjabi, by this poet called Shiv Kumar Batalvi. Have you heard it?"

"No."

Narasimha started reciting in a sing-song tone, his accent very close to the Punjabi that the people from Delhi speak.......

"Maye ni maye, main ik shikra yaar banaya

Ohde sir te kalgi, ohde pairin chanjhar, o chog chugenda aaya

Ik ohde roop di dhup tikheri, dooja mehkan da tirhaya

Teeja ohda rang gulabi, o kisi gori maan da jaya

Ishqe da ik palang nawari, ve assan chanania vich daya

Tan di chadar ho gayi maili, os pair jaan palange paya

Dukhan mere naina de koye, te vich harr hanjuan da aaya

Sari raat gyi vich sochan, os ae ki zulm kamaaya

Subah savere layni vatna, ve assan mal mal os navaya

Dehi de vichon niklan chingan, ni sada hath gaya kumlaya

Churi kuttan ta oh kaunda naahi, ve assan dil da maas khawaya

Ik uddari aisi mari, o murr vatni na aaya."

"You speak Punjabi?" I asked him in Punjabi.

"No Neela, I just know a few words here and there, this poem and a few others by Bulle Shah, the Sufi poet."

"This poem is beautiful. Do you know what the words mean?"

"Yes,.....

O my mother, I am in love with a Shikra
With a crest on his head and bells on his feet, he came pecking for grain

One, he was beautiful, like the sharp sunbeams, and two, he was thirsty for fragrances
and three, his skin was pink, inherited from a fair mother

A bed of love, I made for him under the moonlight
The sheet of this body was stained, the very instant he laid his feet on it

The corners of my eyes hurt and a flood of tears engulfed me
All night long I tried to fathom, how he could do this to me

Early morning with cooling pastes, I scrubbed and bathed this body
As if I had touched hot embers, my hands felt scorched

He would not eat the crushed seeds I served, so I fed him the flesh of my heart
He took flight, never to return to this land"

That was a fairly accurate translation. "Recite the poem for me again..." I said.

He did and from the tone of his voice and the passion in his eyes, I knew, that though he knew not this language, he understood and felt every word.

"Narasimha, can I spend some more time here with you and will you then take me out afterwards for a simple dinner somewhere?"

"Yes, of course, is there anything specific that you want to do or talk about?"

"I want to lie down next to you, I want you to hold me in your arms, just like at the movies and let me dream for a while."

"I will. Is something bothering you?"

"No, I am just feeling very happy and content."

After a while, he nudged me from my dreams. It was getting dark outside. "Okay Punjabi girl, I am taking you out for some idlis, dosas, vadas and sambhar. You are going to regret having a Tamil guy as your friend."

I laughed, grabbed a pillow and pounded him with it as he pretended to fend off my attack. "You don't know what you have got into buddy, just wait and watch," I squealed delightedly.

"But before we leave, there is something that I must do, just give me ten minutes."

He turned on the lights, then connected his phone to his computer and started doing something that I couldn't see from where I sat. The small photo printer next to his Mac hummed, he opened a drawer, took out a pair of scissors, a paper punch and a glue stick and what looked like a red ribbon....... and then he handed me a long narrow rectangular card with a bright red tassel at one end.

On the top was my picture that he had clicked in the morning and below it, our selfie together. On the reverse was a magnified and detailed picture of a reddish hued moon with its craters clearly visible and below that, of a Shikra. On both sides, in a stylised hand, were the words 'We go forward from here......'

"The picture of the bird was sent to me by a fellow birdwatcher, the picture of the moon was taken by me using this very telescope during an eclipse," he explained. "I hope this will be your favourite bookmark you use when you read."

"Hmmm, 'We go forward from here......' Even your bookmarks speak to me, Narasimha."

After dinner, we went back to our respective roosts. The poem still resonating in my mind, I said to myself, "I am not ready for you yet, Narasimha, but soon I will be. Your Shikra is not going to fly away from you...."

We used to text each other a lot, and then talk on the phone every evening, but we rarely met over the week.

Then a few days later Narasimha had to go to Berlin for a conference. He spent much of his time on his visa formalities, and the day before he was to leave, he dropped in for a meal.There was an air of expectancy about him that was tempered with some melancholy.

"What's wrong Narasimha?" I asked him.

"There will be a four and a half hour time difference between us. How will I talk to you in the evenings?"

"Talk to me in the mornings my friend, wake up early and call me at 6, it will be 10:30 here."

"How did I not think of that?"

I pulled his head down towards me and kissed his neck. I don't know why, but his neck fascinated me. Then I kissed his cheeks and very fleetingly brushed my lips against his. He moved his lips towards mine, but I put the tips of my fingers on them.

"Wait a while Narasimha, I am not ready to be kissed there yet."

He nodded, moved his head to the side and held me close.

"What time do you leave for the airport, what time is your flight?"

"The flight is at 11, I have to check in by 8. I have an Uber coming in to pick me up."

"Cancel that cab, have breakfast here and I will drive you to the airport. Be here by 6. Don't say 'no,' it is but a short day time drive for me and I want to spend a few more minutes with you before you leave."

I fixed him a breakfast of cornflakes, milk, orange juice and an omelette. He had mentioned to me sometime that he loved omelettes. Then I collected my handbag, checked to see that I had my car keys, money and credit cards, and just before locking my front door, turned towards him, dropped my bag, hugged him and then I kissed him fully on the lips. He was taken aback a bit and then I felt his tongue flicking my lips. I licked his lips and they tasted sweet. His arms tightened around me and I responded likewise. I let his tongue probe my lips for a few seconds and then parted them to allow him entry. We were breathing heavily now, and our tongues met in a silken line of electricity. They wrestled vigorously, my nipples began to harden and I knew he could feel them against his chest. I pushed my breasts deeper into him, I wanted him to feel them, and remember them for the next ten days. His hands stroked my back, and his hard-on pressed against my stomach and unlike the last, there was no mistaking that feeling this time.

It had been years since I had kissed someone, It certainly was my first kiss where I felt a deep emotional connect with the person. I didn't want to stop, neither did he and my fingers and nails dug into his back and skin. He was sucking on my tongue one moment and the next moment I was sucking on his. He was licking my lips and I was licking his, I sucked on his lower lip and he sucked on my upper one. I wanted to get into every corner of his mouth and his tongue seemed to be blocking every way. We must have been like this for about five minutes, and then I realised we had to move.

I broke the kiss, he lunged forward and kissed me on my neck, nibbled it a bit, and came back to my lips. I thrust my tongue onto his in a frenzy and we were moaning into each other's mouths. And then slowly and very reluctantly, we disengaged. He held my face in his hands, I held his in mine, he looked deep into my eyes as I into his, and then he clasped me tightly to his chest again.

"You don't want to miss your flight, let's go," I said. He nodded. We hugged again before getting into the car, and then we hit the freeway. We kept stealing sidelong glances at each other even as we kept our eyes on the road. We wanted to speak, but our emotions were choking us up.

As I drove in to the departure area, he spoke. "They don't allow visitors because of security reasons, so just drop me at the gates and drive back carefully. Call me to tell me you have reached home safely."

"I will do that, and I will talk to you for a while before you board your flight, have a safe journey my friend," and then I added, "what happened back there was wonderful, it was better than what I had fantasised about last night before I went to sleep. Will you kiss me a lot once you are back?"

Airports or for that matter public places in India are not places for kissing, so he leaned in and brushed his lips across mine, just a light fleeting touch, We got out of the car, he unloaded his suitcase from the boot, slung his hand baggage across his shoulder and we hugged tightly. As he held me to him, that devilish smile was back in his eyes and he said,