Thus Spoke the Lines

It was a palm like none that he had seen, he repeated. Unique. Soft, yet belonging to a sufferer. And the lines, he said, had the power to defy destiny. He held the palm in question with the care of a devotee. He rambled out more episodes of past and future, as Nethra silently listened to each word intently, with the look of a casual listener. What was prominent was her trying to figure out which gadget she would go back home with. Niharika, her daughter would be waiting. Her summer vacations had begun.

She was in the business of words, and ruled her editorial space with observant remarks on the Things. She was variously loved, and hated too, in between. Amongst selection and elimination, she did her own writing and curated the domestic duties. Which included managing her heart which slipped more often than she would have liked it to, and bringing up a daughter, mostly by herself. Her sense of style was simply impeccable and she loved playing a good game of Badminton. The editor sense in Nethra served her even in the selection of her socks, and the discarding of the crumbs of biscuits. She had an effortless air with which she kept the house spic, span, beautiful and surprisingly, warm. 

As she smashed a couple of shots, she thought over all that was told to her last evening. Success would be her middle name, and life would be lived much well beyond well-lived, but her heart would wobble. It pained her. It bothered her. It made her nervous. She believed she was born to love. How could predictions speak in such personal metaphors? It perturbed her to an extent that she lost four points in a row, to some random player. It was only after she lost the next point that she paid attention to who she was playing against.

She was a younger version of herself, perhaps like her, taking it out on the shuttle. A college goer, in her exuberant skin sweating profusely, her opponent smiled back. They came to the net for a break. Over their drink, Nethra asked after her name. "Nandini". She was tall, and very sweet, and very, very competitive. "I have always wanted to play against you." They returned to the game, which took over the tempo of thoughts of distorted story-telling. She was now lost in the girl. And somewhere in the process, back to her formative years. She lost the game, and after her shower, surprised at finding Nandini having a similar black coffee and club sandwich, went up to her and asked her where she lived.

"You can give me a lift. That is where I live." Nethra was not prepared for such a reply. As they slid into the car, Nethra regretted her decision because Nandini wouldn't stop talking. She found out a lot about her life, of her heartbreaks and of the neighbours' fascination with Niharika's single mother. She returned to her line of earlier thoughts. And just as she entered the gate of their building, Nandini bluntly put it, "I so wish to live your life! No, I wish to live with you. Free, and fearless."

Nethra smiled for a lack of dialogue. She had summed up her life well -- free and fearless -- just what the lines had spoken. She invited her for a Saturday drink and dinner, and as she went up the lift, she thought of the many hearts she broke, and some who broke hers back in return. The lines spoke of life, they didn't speak of aches.