Conversation stopped as soon as she stepped in. Expectant faces turned... waiting.. With a confused smile she was at her desk, signing in. Never one for idle chatter, she wasn't exactly the most popular person around. Her world was small. Very small. Her camera, computer, books and music. She loved her solitude. The sacred space she had to fight family for. To be single in that generation was no ordinary feat. She had quietly ignored taunts and pleas, threats and blackmail to save herself from the mundane. She had struggled for freedom and was revelling in it.

The screen before her came alive and brought her back to the present. The smell of blood, the pitiful wails...the filth and gore. She shut her eyes and the train tragedy flashed in her mind. The pictures would be great. Calamity makes a great headline. A headless corpse a prize winning picture. She smiled to hide her pain. This was her life. By choice.

She was right. The pictures were great. She looked around to see if Anand had come in yet. It was ten. About time Anand rushed in - wet hair and casually tucked in shirt. She looked towards the entrance, expecting the warm smile that was thrown in everybody's direction. The cheerful greeting and the purposeful stride towards her desk.

The office boy pushed the glass door open with his rear, carefully balancing a tray of teacups. The morning ritual had begun. The impatient group sauntered towards her, tea in hand. "You knew all along, didn't you?" Was that a question, or an accusation? And what had I known all along? Her baffled look must have seemed authentic. And the story was out in several voices.

Anand had left. Left for good. Resigned his job in his typical casual way...a couple of lines stating his decision ...he was leaving. Better job, said some. Going abroad, said others. Was too good to stay and stagnate here, said some. Was always a frustrated restless chap, said others. And waited when they were through, for Suma's answer. She had none. No answers at all. Anand had left and she had just been informed by all her colleagues that he had gone away for good. She tried hard to swallow the tea that had somehow turned into a tennis ball and she made a dash for the wash room.

Two days ago, they were streaked in filth and gore, shuttering away together. Capturing scenes of one of the nation's worst tragedies. The days that followed were too hectic to narrate. The deadlines drained them both. She had been called away on another assignment immediately and had just returned...to this. Anand had left.

Reaching for the 'phone she punched his personal number. A mechanical monotone asked for her message. Not bothering with it, she called off, informed the desk that she was taking the day off and without waiting to offer explanations, stepped out into the dull sunshine and slid into the driving seat of her Maruti. Stepping on the gas, she reached Anand's apartment in half her usual time. Taking two steps at a time, as was her habit she leaned on the door and pressed the buzzer.

The door opened and Selvaraj stood there ...face contorted with so many emotions it was hard to read any sense from his expression. "Saar oorukku poyachu" - Anand has left - was all that he could manage coherently. The rest of his prattle went above her head. She looked around, searching for some message, a note a letter ...nothing. She sat on the neatly made bed.

It came back to her. The dream. The Devi temple and the chanting of the mantras. Anand's recurrent dream. The dream that had confused and disturbed him for a while now. Why was that coming back to her? Anand's voice describing his dream...his feelings...his fears. The tears wouldn't stop. Frame after frame flashed before her flooded eyes - the awards that they had dreamt of, the zenith that they had decided was theirs. Their arrogant plans and dreams. The laughter, the tears, the conversations and the silences. Curling up in a foetal position she cried. Like never ever before.

Selvaraj peeped in, tea in hand. Tea. The magic potion for all ailments? Her eyes were dry now. The paper near the pillow caught her eye. Crumpled and insignificant - but she reached for it and saw - The temple. The priest. The dream. She needed no explanation. She knew. Somewhere in the distance, a temple bell rang the doors shut. It was noon. The chimes died away and became a gentle drone of a tambura filling her.

She looked around again. There was a lot to be done here. Tomorrow, perhaps. She picked up Anand's camera that was left next to Baba's picture. Where she would see it. She said a prayer. For a friend, for his dreams. His destiny. And as she left the apartment, she was smiling.

Vatsala

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