Butterflies and Hurricanes

“Do you stare at nothing anymore?”

Ann had placed the book beside her, the bookmark’s string hanging sleepily between the pages. Ed looked at her as she sat on the cane swing in their balcony on a not-so-typical-Wednesday morning. They both had woken up feeling a little hungover, decided to call in sick and planned to do nothing in particular. This was Ann’s favourite type of off-days. When it was a spur of the moment decision. When an entire work day sprawled lazily in front of them, and they could savour the devilish thought of being home when the world was slogging away.

Ed was editing the pictures he’d taken at the Kala Ghoda festival.

“Um, I guess.”

Ann looked at him. “No, I mean, really think about it. Do you really sit and just do nothing anymore? I mean no phone, no laptop, no magazine, no book, no newspaper, nothing.”

“Ugh, I’m not sure when I did that last.”

“Exactly! Isn’t that a little sad? I think we should try it. Come here.”

“Waaait, I need to finish editing and send these out soon.”

“Ed! What about not having an agenda for the day? That was the deal.”

He sighed, rolled his eyes, hauled himself up, and plopped himself down next to her. He loved how goofy she could be. The swing wasn’t big enough for both of them to sit comfortably on. But he liked it that way.

She was suddenly very excited.

“Okay, so here’s the deal. We will sit here. That’s all. No talking, and no sleeping,” she looked at him sternly.

“What about eating? I don’t think I’ll last very long without another snack sometime soon.”

“We just had lunch – like two hours back, you big baboon! Now shut up and sit. Listen to the sounds. Watch how the sky changes colours as the sun goes down. Relax. Think. Feel.”

They sat, squished together on the rickety old cane swing, hanging dubiously from a metallic hook in the ceiling. A gentle breeze blew and the smell of their freshly laundered clothes swept past them. They watched as the birds screeched and made their way home. They listened as the flower-pot seller passed through their lane, and was stopped by their neighbour aunty. Ed yawned. She looked at him discouragingly. He gave her an apologetic smile.

They watched the purple sky turning darker and darker, and puffy grey clouds making their way ominously across the sky. They listened to the sounds of children playing on the street downstairs, someone flicking the TV on and watching the news. The unmistakable sound of freshly cut vegetables being doused in hot oil. They watched as the rain drops fell down and made big wet blotches across their railing. Ed’s phone rang. He looked at her expectantly. She resisted and widened her eyes at him. He didn’t protest.

Their white curtains billowed in the wind, performing a trance-like dance for them. They saw a bug make its way across a crack in their wall. They heard the crazed sounds of the traffic and its manic desperation, as people battled on the streets to get home before all hell broke loose from the sky. They heard a dog barking its head off, and a young couple guffawing. They saw an old woman heaving her way up the stairs to her terrace, to pluck off a few leaves off her tulsi plant. They saw young women standing in their balconies of the famous ‘Tirumala Girls Luxury PG’. They all spoke to their parents, their boyfriends, friends they missed, as they clambered and made their way through this big, bustling city. They heard a baby cry. They heard a transformer exploding in the distance. They heard their wind-chime sing a tune for them.

They sat as the soft, orange dusk plunged into a starry, dark, moon-lit night. A couple of hours passed by. Two? Three? Who could tell. Ed felt Ann’s body getting heavy against him. He looked at her and chuckled quietly to himself. The silly old goose had lost at her own game. She was going to get an earful about this the next day. Or maybe not. Who cared?

He scooped her up into his arms, and her head found its favourite spot in the nook of his neck. He placed her on the bed, covered her up, took a beer out of the fridge, went outside in the balcony and allowed himself to be engulfed by the nothingness once again.