The Promise

The woman looked in the mirror. Golden, predatory eyes, flecked with edges of brown stared back, hard and calculating, examining a visage with ruthless scrutiny. The eyes noted the long flowing hair, poker straight and dense, the long aquiline face, the full lips, the long nose and the unlined forehead. The years had not been easy and maintaining the façade had taken its toll within her. The burned out husk within did not betray its bitter acrimony with itself on the still beautiful face.

She remembered a time when her eyes were not hard, were not gauging, had been soft and warm and had looked at wonder on the world. Had also looked with something else at someone else, but that had been many years ago, many birthdays past.

It was her birthday today, she was thirty today. Thirty years, three decades old, the start of the end, and there was nothing to look forward to. The still beautiful face made a wry grimace at the memories and banished them from her mind. She had no regrets, she had made the right choice, and she had done well. An astrologer had once told her that she was as obstinate as a mule, stubborn to a fault. Well, that seemed to have worked for her. Anyway, enough dreaming, there was work to be done.

The hot May afternoon sun slanted its rays on her desk at her high-rise office in a prestigious international law firm in Mumbai, highlighting the masses of paper and the humming laptop. A secretary entered with a memo and moved quickly to her desk, laid the paper down and practically ran out of the room. A grim smile played across her features, she ran a tight ship in her domain. Her gaze fell upon the memo, it requested her to attend a high level meeting with their foreign counterparts and as was usual with such meetings, they took place after midnight so as to allow for the time differences. The woman sighed, rubbed her temples. Once such transactions used to be fun, she lived for the adrenaline pumping excitement of such meetings, of swinging deals, of hostile takeovers, or mergers; she was in awe then of the numbers involved, numbers of amounts of monies that were unimaginable in their presence of her mind and her decisions as to their applicability. Once upon a time, this was her life, but she was getting old for these games now, they were no longer fun.

The night air was cool on her face as she left the building. It was way past midnight and the meeting had left her drained and exhausted. All she could think about was just climbing into her car and then later, into her bed in her immaculate apartment on Cuffe Parade. She thought longingly of a drink, but knew that she could not afford to, it was a working day tomorrow.

“Madame” hesitantly, her driver, his voice inflection indicating trouble

“Yes” a little harshly, she was exhausted

“Car trouble Madame, will take some time” a little defiantly, a problem not caused by him

Cars were often like men; they developed trouble the minute you started expecting something from them. She had a dream of getting her own car when she had come to the city, something small and comfy, but with the pressures of work and later her success, another dream was left by the road, like so many else. The company provided her with a car and a chauffeur to boot, just like her immaculate apartment on Cuffe Parade, spotless and furnished with all the amenities of modern day living and without a soul.

She sighed, it was just not her day or night.

“Fix the car, call a taxi, I’ll wait here”

The city of Mumbai had about a million taxis, even at night, plying their trade with utter conviction that the city would not function without them. They were ubiquitous, except when you needed them. The briefcase in her hands was killing her, stuffed with papers and her laptop; she could not leave it behind, but now wished that she had.

A distant thrumming suddenly broke her line of thoughts and turning her head she could espy a high-powered beam coming towards her. A bike, her mind told her, flipping cards of memory from her college days. She moved back on the footpath cautiously and looked around. It was always better to be cautious in the city and especially when the roads were deserted and her damned driver nowhere to be seen.

The thrumming grew in volume till she could identify it cruising along her side of the road. The bike, some sort of modified bike with outsized handles and an extended rear, which made it, look monstrous in the orange streetlights and the long shadows cast. The bike slowed down and stopped near her in the shadows; she shrank back even more and looked around desperately. There was no one on the street, no sound either, the bike’s deep throated thrumming seemed to fill the silence as the man sat on his bike which was still purring and thrumming beneath him, and regarded the woman. His helmet hid his features, but his eyes were visible in the front aperture. He seemed to be wearing glasses.

“Need a lift?” a slight tonal quality which registered on her ears despite the bikes thrumming and her own fear making her own heartbeat audible to her ears.

“N-no, my driver went for a taxi, my car broke down…. and I am waiting for my friends to join me from the office” Nervous, nervous, worst case of lying ever the woman berated herself.

The biker’s eyes went to the unlit building, the closed office doors and came back to her with something like amusement in them.

“Okay, I’ll give you company till they get back” coolly replied the man on the bike

The man switched off the bike, swung his leg off on the other side, turned his back on the woman and took off his helmet. He seemed to fumble for something in his pockets, she could not make out what it was, heard the rasp of a lighter and a moment later saw the drift of smoke from the other side.

The woman stood almost on the edge of the footpath near her office doors, clutching her briefcase in her aching hands and the biker half sat on his bike, smoking with his back turned to her.

The minutes dragged on. The woman was looking around desperately for her driver and suddenly remembered her cell phone. Taking it out, she started dialing her driver’s number furiously; all she got was a network busy signal. She tried to remember the name of any taxi company or rental, but soon realised that for the past few years, she had been ensconced within a protective cocoon of services provided by the company, her secretary and aides.

“You better call some friend of yours who can give you a lift. It’s getting late” said the man

The woman started at the sound of his voice in the silence of the street. The street was suddenly, achingly silent in the absence of the bike’s noise. The man’s voice was ringing a bell, but there were alarm bells in her mind, which subdued the familiar ring with their clamour.

The women remembered her mother always telling her about situations like this and to not get into such; her darling mother who always stood by her and gave her more advice than was necessary. Well, she was in such a situation, debating to call the police. But then, she asked herself what she would tell them…. that she was stranded in front of her office and she suspected a Samaritan who offered to stay with her till she could call her. For all she knew, the man could be a police official himself.

“I am trying to call, its just that it’s a bit late” belatedly replied the woman.

It was true, it was nearly 2:30 am and none of her few married friends would appreciate their husbands to be woken up to drive her back home and the same held true of her employees. She decided to wait a few minutes more for her driver to turn up. The smoke drifting lazily around the man’s back was driving her nuts. She had a secret addiction, but kept it in control, but this was an exceptional case she deemed.

“Could I have a cigarette?”

A leather jacketed hand fumbled and then held out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, keeping his back still turned to her. The woman leaned forward, placed her briefcase on the pavement and took the proffered cigarettes. She hastily drew a cigarette, lit it and dragged the smoke deep into her lungs. Instant coughing at the harsh taste, eyes swimming, the woman peered at the package of cigarettes. It was a cheap brand, yet the brand was familiar to her. Someone she knew used to smoke the same brand many years ago. She took a slower drag this time, slowly inhaled the smoke and let the rest dribble out. The woman took a step forward and placed the cigarettes and the lighter on the seat of the bike. The man did not seem to notice, his face was in the shadows and the light of his cigarette was a dim glow in the shadows. The woman stepped back into the light of the streetlights and thoughtfully regarded the man’s back.

“Thanks, I really needed that.”

“Yeah, I know”

Some more time passed, the man threw his cigarette on the road and ground it out. The woman continued smoking.

“Are you just waiting for me or someone or….” The question hung in the air

The man seemed to consider the question, all she could see was his back, he was wearing some sort of a fringed leather jacket, and the smoke curling around him once again.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Said the man, slowly

“Here?” asked the woman

“Not really, but it is as good a place as any, I guess.” stated the man calmly

“You are waiting for someone or something and this is the location?” asked the woman, fear returning to her voice again.

What if this guy was some kind of serial killer, she had not yet seen his face and though he had kept his distance, she had enough stories of the mysterious deaths of lonely women in the city to get alarmed all over again.

“Maybe, maybe not. It depends.” said the man

“Are you going to harm me?” fearfully, the briefcase now clutched at her upper torso.

There was a low chuckle, deep and rumbling, not so much sinister sounding as amused and truly funny from the man on the bike. It was a more comforting than terrifying.

“Maybe, maybe not. It depends.” said the man coolly

Her courage unknowingly buoyed by the slightly humorous twist made her give a slight giggle. It was a long time since she had giggled, laughed yes, frowned and screamed more often, but a long time since she had giggled. Someone used to make her giggle a longtime ago, she thought with a sudden jerk and forcibly closed the errant doors of memory.

The wind from the sea face was blowing cool and fine now and on it she could hear a distant ringing of a cycle bell. The nighttime coffee and tea sellers were about their business and one turned the corner and came towards them, ringing his bell as if to dispel the ghosties and the gloomies of the night.

“Care for a cup of coffee?’ the woman asked

The man shrugged and nodded, and lit another of his cigarettes but kept the packet on the seat of his bike. The woman waved over to the coffee seller and as the boy came over, ordered and paid for two cups of coffee, took one and directed the boy to give the other to the man. The coffee felt good going down, it was weak stuff, not the kind she was usually accustomed to, but it was still good all the same.

“So, where are you going?” a need for speech, a voice, anything.

“A new life, I don’t know, to be honest” replied the man

“How can you not know? You started out and now you are riding, right?” incredulously asked the woman whose whole life had been target oriented and focused.

“I don’t know, I am riding, I started all right, but sometimes you need to just ride and let the winds take you wherever they please. Ever tried that?” The voice was calm and yet she could feel the tremors in it.

“Sometimes you just need to let go, to go with the wind, sometimes you need to flow, savvy?”

Oh yes, she knew what he was talking about, another had talked like that and she went along and she was wild and free and in love, but it had ended badly, very badly and it was in the past. She would, could now no longer fly.

“Yes, I savvy”

They stood waiting, for what, neither could say, but they stood there under the streetlights, listening to the sea break on the surf a short distance away, listening to each others thoughts.

Footsteps in the distance, a white uniform, her driver approaching them.

“Madame, the car is fixed.”

“Yes, you go on, I am coming” said the woman handing the driver her briefcase

The woman turned to the man who still had his back turned to her and spoke softly

“You came back, after so many years.”

“I had to, I made a promise to you that I would. I have paid for my mistakes, repented and finished all my work” the man spoke softly too.

“But its too late, you should have come then, its far too late now.” Sadly, softly.

“It is never too late, you know that.” murmured the man

“Yes… and no” the woman looked away at the sea

They both looked at the sea, the waves were black and the foam silver in the far off moonlight.

“You know I will be waiting…wherever, kanz.” said the man, finally

“Yeah, I know. You take care of yourself, D-boy” the woman whispered.

The man swung astride his bike, put on his helmet and started his bike. The woman’s car came and stopped near them and the woman got into the back seat.

Without another look, both went their own ways.