It was a perfect concentric circle - hollow, made of steel, without a hint of a dent anywhere. She tried slipping it on each of Her fingers, but not even the girth of Her thumbs would accommodate it. For the first time, She felt a tinge of disappointment with Her dainty fingers. She would have to try it on His fingers - She made a mental note.
The roundness reminded Her of the small circular patch on Her grandmother's kitchen garden, inside which She would settle with Her toys - right in the middle. It was a grass-rimmed patch of soil, so perfectly round, one would have thought it was mowed to perfection. But no, it had existed ever since She was born, almost as if in waiting her for Her to fit in. Tucked away into the north-eastern corner, under the shade of the guava tree, this was Her haven - secluded, secret and safe. Come rain, come sun, this is where She would sit with Her dolls, Her books, Her Walkman, Her letters, for everyday of Her vacations, till Dida called Her in for lunch or dinner.
As She'd grown older, She had spent hours lying on the rug, dreaming with eyes wide open. While ants crept around the rug with some trepidation, She would be sprawled, carelessly chewing a blade of grass, imagining motifs of curtains for Her Round House, that could replace the starched saris of Dida, that She used as makeshift drapes. With time, motifs of curtains gave way to planning for frames around Her Lautrec posters or mentally arranging the Bhooter Raja cushions or redoubling Dida's kolshi as a flower-vase...
He had only heard of Her Round House - for by the time He had come, Dida had gone. As had the house, the kitchen-garden and the Round House. Listening patiently, He tried to co-imagine, as She animatedly took Him through it, inch by inch, dream by dream. The Round House - He had remembered, never to forget.
The roundness reminded Her of the small circular patch on Her grandmother's kitchen garden, inside which She would settle with Her toys - right in the middle. It was a grass-rimmed patch of soil, so perfectly round, one would have thought it was mowed to perfection. But no, it had existed ever since She was born, almost as if in waiting her for Her to fit in. Tucked away into the north-eastern corner, under the shade of the guava tree, this was Her haven - secluded, secret and safe. Come rain, come sun, this is where She would sit with Her dolls, Her books, Her Walkman, Her letters, for everyday of Her vacations, till Dida called Her in for lunch or dinner.
As She'd grown older, She had spent hours lying on the rug, dreaming with eyes wide open. While ants crept around the rug with some trepidation, She would be sprawled, carelessly chewing a blade of grass, imagining motifs of curtains for Her Round House, that could replace the starched saris of Dida, that She used as makeshift drapes. With time, motifs of curtains gave way to planning for frames around Her Lautrec posters or mentally arranging the Bhooter Raja cushions or redoubling Dida's kolshi as a flower-vase...
He had only heard of Her Round House - for by the time He had come, Dida had gone. As had the house, the kitchen-garden and the Round House. Listening patiently, He tried to co-imagine, as She animatedly took Him through it, inch by inch, dream by dream. The Round House - He had remembered, never to forget.
*******************
Slowly and carefully, She picked up the Godrej key and put it inside the round key ring She had been toying with. How neatly it fit! She now dangled the key-ring holding it up by its single key. What beauty minimalism was! Was it the key now that was the protagonist or the key-ring? She couldn't decide even after prolonged philosophical rumination within. She would have to ask Him, She made a mental note.
********************
Fifteen years hence, She could distinctly remember the clinking noise the key made when She turned it round the lock to enter their first apartment together. It was a rented two-roomed flat, with white unstained walls. The bedroom that overlooked a rickety guava tree had a semi-circular verandah! She had leaped with joy when She'd seen it, thrown Her arms around Him and kissed Him!
Hours later, as they lay wrapped around each other's arms on the cold marble floor, She had tried to slip on the key-ring on His fingers and they had both laughed at how it had stubbornly resisted all attempts! Her chin on His chest, She had waved the key in front of His eyes in sinful simulation of Dr.Hazra. Playing along, He had laughed, pulled her closer and finally admitted being hypnotised successfully!
New pouches, pockets and boxes were devised, sewn or bought for the key-ring even as newer rings began to come in. Three keys for the almirah, two for the main gate, one for the terrace. For each of her "initiation sessions" as She called them, She would carefully clean the new key and delicately slip them onto the key-ring. She would kiss them gently and invariably whisper a soft 'Welcome Home' to them. Sometimes, when She would sit alone in Her new Round Verandah, She would take out the bunch, caress them gently and make mental notes to tell Him that they seemed happy together.
Once when He had bought Her a key-ring shaped like a dog when He felt that the round ring looked too bare, She had kept it away saying, they'd use it for their car, when they bought one. He never understood what affection she felt for a single un-embellished metallic ring, that had, with age, also begun to rust. Sometimes when She came to bed at night after her days chores, He could smell the watery smell of rust on her fingers...
***************************
One by one she took the keys off the ring and placed them on one of the many newspapers strewn around for packing their stuff in. The landlord had given them his notice. He had feared She would cry and so hovered close by. But She seemed unfazed: Just that, it was difficult to disentangle the keys from the ring, as fifteen years of closeness had, at one and the same time, corroded and fused them irreversibly. Was this a physical change or a chemical one, she made a mental note to ask Him...
Slowly and carefully, She picked up the Godrej key and put it inside the round key ring She had been toying with. How neatly it fit! She now dangled the key-ring holding it up by its single key. What beauty minimalism was! Was it the key now that was the protagonist or the key-ring? She couldn't decide even after prolonged philosophical rumination within. She would have to ask Him, She made a mental note.
********************
Fifteen years hence, She could distinctly remember the clinking noise the key made when She turned it round the lock to enter their first apartment together. It was a rented two-roomed flat, with white unstained walls. The bedroom that overlooked a rickety guava tree had a semi-circular verandah! She had leaped with joy when She'd seen it, thrown Her arms around Him and kissed Him!
Hours later, as they lay wrapped around each other's arms on the cold marble floor, She had tried to slip on the key-ring on His fingers and they had both laughed at how it had stubbornly resisted all attempts! Her chin on His chest, She had waved the key in front of His eyes in sinful simulation of Dr.Hazra. Playing along, He had laughed, pulled her closer and finally admitted being hypnotised successfully!
New pouches, pockets and boxes were devised, sewn or bought for the key-ring even as newer rings began to come in. Three keys for the almirah, two for the main gate, one for the terrace. For each of her "initiation sessions" as She called them, She would carefully clean the new key and delicately slip them onto the key-ring. She would kiss them gently and invariably whisper a soft 'Welcome Home' to them. Sometimes, when She would sit alone in Her new Round Verandah, She would take out the bunch, caress them gently and make mental notes to tell Him that they seemed happy together.
Once when He had bought Her a key-ring shaped like a dog when He felt that the round ring looked too bare, She had kept it away saying, they'd use it for their car, when they bought one. He never understood what affection she felt for a single un-embellished metallic ring, that had, with age, also begun to rust. Sometimes when She came to bed at night after her days chores, He could smell the watery smell of rust on her fingers...
***************************
One by one she took the keys off the ring and placed them on one of the many newspapers strewn around for packing their stuff in. The landlord had given them his notice. He had feared She would cry and so hovered close by. But She seemed unfazed: Just that, it was difficult to disentangle the keys from the ring, as fifteen years of closeness had, at one and the same time, corroded and fused them irreversibly. Was this a physical change or a chemical one, she made a mental note to ask Him...
