The Till

The till had counted up correctly. She felt happy as it unsettled her if it was even a penny less. Honesty was the path she had always trod for the love and fear of God. There was a bounce in her step as she hurried to get home. It was getting late and the streets were not safe. To think about it, when had they ever been safe? Smiling at her own retrospection, she admitted it was not only the danger that impelled her feet, but the loud rumbling of her stomach too.

What would she make today? Pasta or just another cookies and milk dinner. She looked carefully before crossing the street. The smile on the man’s face as he drove by startled her, and the thoughts of food vanished. The face seemed terribly familiar. She dug deep into her memory for the reason behind the familiarity but could not come up with anything. If it was important, it would come to her, she reasoned.

She rung the bell as the light in the outer room was visible. She was too lazy to look for the keys in her humongous bag which would throw up a lot of garbage before eventually turning up the required item. Maybe, she should get a smaller bag; but then how would it submerge half of the world as it was her habit to chuck everything in for later inspection. Her shy flatmate opened the door and turned away. They went to the same university but took different courses. A hi wouldn’t actually kill her, she thought gloomily. Well, to each her own. She stepped in and went to her room.

Cookies and milk was the verdict of the day. She took off her jacket, the money fell out and startled her. Suddenly, it dawned on her. That man! The money! It was his!

It was hers now, logically. He had given it to her. Generally, people did not tip that much. And all she had done was serve him coffee. Maybe, it was her ready smile which the manager dreaded them into each opening shift. He was really high on customer relations and lectured them lengthily if he caught them off guard. Smiling was easier than listening to him go on about it, so that’s exactly what she did. Carrying a plastered smile along with the customer’s orders and serving them both. They did not even bother looking up most of the time; engrossed in the newspaper or the deadline of a report to an impossibly frightful boss. Well, it seemed to have paid off; so she decided to do it less grudgingly.

She went into the kitchen and found the shy girl having her dinner. She knew she would have to initiate the conversation, if she wanted to get even a word out of her. They tended to be single syllable words anyways and she just, did not, have the energy. She poured herself a glass of milk and grabbed her cookies. Sleep came easily.

Back in the café three days later; she was beaming, not because she remembered her vow to smile and make a fortune but because she had managed really good grades. She thumped herself on the back (mentally) as she changed into her uniform, and prepared for her shift. She saw herself giving the manager a good piece of her mind when she finally got her business degree. Elatedly, she proceeded to take her first order. But her smile disappeared when she caught him staring at her.

It was her big tipper. She had not expected to see him again. His sudden appearance confused her and she did not know what to think. Was it just a co-incidence? Maybe, the guy worked nearby and came to the café as it was convenient. Even then, he could tone down his glee a few notches.

She had no choice but to go and take his order. His usual coffee, he declared with a huge smile; hers had disappeared(smile, not the coffee). The eagle-eyed manager squinting from behind the counter could not see as she had her back to him. But the customer sure looked pleased, he clearly saw, so he shifted his gaze to observe someone else stealthily.

She sternly served the tipper his coffee. He looked at her questioningly, he wanted her to acknowledge him. But she went about her business in a nonchalant way. Clinically taking orders and serving them. She did not want him to get a wisp of encouragement from her. She was glad to finally see him go and as she apprehensively approached to clear the table; she saw a substantial tip peeking from under the plate, tantalizingly.

She was totally flummoxed. She did not want this. She had not counted on him becoming a regular. Instinct warned her to stay away from him. Even if he had noble intentions, she did not want to complicate her life. Besides, he looked like such a geek! His huge black framed glasses always slipped down, and he had to push them up to smile at her. Had she given him a wrong impression somehow? Had her fake smile given him any hope of some sort? Oh, the blasted manager, she thought accusingly. She was decent-looking and all, but had never thought herself capable of inspiring such lofty feelings in anyone.

Vexingly, after that day, he was always lurking about. He would sit outside and pretend to look across the street when she looked at him. He got the paper which he read between covert glances at her. If she finally caught his eye, he would flash that big smile again.

She skilfully avoided serving him after some more coffees and the tips that accompanied the cup. Any money was welcome to her dreary student status, but she opted for good sense instead of greed. She started asking someone else to serve him whenever she spotted him heading for his table, and then went about looking hectic, with not a minute to spare. She knew he never tipped any of the others; much to their consternation, though.

Often, she successfully managed to continue to ignore him, without getting noticed by the manager. Thankfully, the tipper never tried to talk to her and generally, left much before her shift ended. But the way he constantly tried to catch her eye when he came to the café gave her an eerie feeling.

She had to be content with that kind of an arrangement with the tipper. She did not know his name, so had begun to refer to him that way. Even her colleagues had started teasing her about him. They had noticed his attention towards her, and his oh-so-notorious habit of only tipping her if she served him. It was fun for her colleagues to see her squirm when the tipper came in, juxtaposed to his apparent delight. The dichotomy of their mutual interests was hilarious to the café staff; the way he would always try to get her attention to come across to him, and she would grudgingly have to go if the manager was anywhere near her.

Well, at least he was harmless. It had been more than three months to the same routine and he followed the same ritual. The semester was about to end and she would request the manager to change her shift for the break, to shut her colleagues up who were not only having a good laugh, but noisy snorts from her obvious discomfort.

But then . . . he stopped coming. She didn’t see him for a long time. Life, eventually became normal. A cute guy had joined the café and all the girls gossiped about him in their breaks. They forgot her and the tipper as the cute guy and his dimples dominated the usually incoherent conversation. Girls being girls, never waited to listen and just gabbled away. Soon he became a faded spot in her memory.

It was generally deserted at that hour when she walked home. Lost in her own thoughts, she barely missed getting her toe crushed when the car swerved and came to a skidding halt near her. He stepped out. He completely caught her off guard as he started waving and sprinting towards her, pushing up his geeky glasses in the process. She did not know what to do as panic gripped her. She always carried a pepper spray in her pocket and clutched it determinedly as she started running away from him. He called out to her and fastened his pace. He knew her name. He shouted out repeatedly for her to stop but she was too terrified to look back and it was only when his hand closed around her wrist, did her fear reach such a heightened pitch that she flung the can out, aimed the nozzle, and sprayed behind her shoulder.

He immediately fell back with a surprised cry and let go of her. She ran as fast as her wobbly legs could carry her. She thanked her wits that she had started keeping the keys in the outer pocket. She let herself in and hurried to her room. She whooped down on the bed and waited for her heart to still. This had gone too far. He had planned it out. He had disappeared so that she would not be vigilant.

She had outrun him this time, but feared for another chance that he might get. She called her manager and let him know that she wanted to start working the day shift, like tomorrow itself. He agreed; but only when she threatened to resign. At least the streets would be too full for the stalker to try that stunt again. She started carrying a Swiss army knife in her pocket and she had other people to walk back with because of the saner shift. Once or twice, she thought she saw him whizzing past in a car, but did not know whether it was him or her own paranoia.

When she entered the house that day, it was swathed in darkness. It had been a long and trying day at university, a race to submit the final project before the break. She had taken a taxi home. Never had she been so lavish but safety prompted such measures. She flicked the switch on but nothing happened. It was a black out. It happened rarely. She started moving carefully towards her room by the light of her mobile. The rhythmic sound from the kitchen stopped her in the middle of the stairs. Fear and panic threatened to grip her. Whoever was in the kitchen had not heard her come in as the sound still continued. She prayed that it would be her shy flatmate and almost called out, but stopped. She turned her mobile light off and started walking back towards the main door, trying not to make even a whisper of a noise. Once outside she could call her flatmate and even the police, if need be. As she stealthily tiptoed towards her freedom, he suddenly appeared in the thin light streaming through the kitchen window, a butcher’s knife in his hand. The sound, it struck her now, had been the sharpening of metal against stone. He had a huge smile on his face right below the huge glasses. She gulped in some air and froze on the spot.

She let out a huge scream as he lunged towards her, with the knife, crying out her name. She bolted towards the door. But he was too quick, and grabbed her just as she reached for the doorknob. She clawed at his face leaving him unable to speak. His face seemed to be distorted with pain and rage, he dropped the knife from his hand. The pepper spray fell out of her pocket in the jostle that ensued between her and the stalker. She flicked open the army knife and slashed away at him maddeningly, but could not get to him. He was bulky but she was more agile. In a jerk, her small knife fell out of her hands. Now, it was up to whatever strength she could muster in her arms. She could not see through the panic stricken sweat running down her face, neither could she hear what he was saying as she was crying her heart out for somebody to come and rescue her! She called out the name of her favourite God and reached for the vase on the console. He, too, was breathless from all the action and seemed to be relenting. She caught the vase and brought it down on his head. Finally, he slumped down on the floor.

The door flung open at the same instant, and her shy flatmate flew in. She was panting and stared aghast at the gruesome scene which greeted her. She said she heard the scream and had come running down the street. She took in her talkative flatmate, the broken vase and finally the man whose head lay next to it.

A shriek of horror escaped her shy flatmate as soon as the man turned his face towards her. She cringed away and could not stop screaming. The stalker had passed out. The talkative girl moved towards her to calm her down. She could see that the shy girl was in shock and resolved to be the brave one. She explained that this guy was stalking her and had maddeningly attacked her; she would now call the police to come and get him. That’s when the shy girl jumped to action and leaped towards the stalker, flipped out her phone and called an ambulance.

The talkative girl stared at the shy girl flabbergasted. The ambulance! Shy girl had clearly lost her mind. She took her by the shoulders and started shaking her, trying to tell her he had been following her for days and had almost killed her today. This man was dangerous. The shy girl looked really thunderous by now with all the shaking and shouting, she gathered up all her courage and boxed the talkative girl right on her nose. That’s when the talkative girl saw the ring with the big rock, right before it her. Then she blacked out.

When she came to her senses there was an eerie silence. There was no sight of anyone. She had been dragged into the kitchen, placed in a chair with her head thrown backwards with an icepack ready in her hand. She felt her nose, not broken.

She looked around and stared at the mess. The sharpening stone. The cut up chicken and veggies. The champagne bottle. The messy cake. She got up to read it. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHY GIRL!

The ring, the café, the stalker, the shy girl. It all came to her in ONE sudden flash of understanding. The stalker was her flatmate’s boyfriend. Now fiancé, she ruminated, as she painfully felt her nose for the imprint of the big rock. The shy girl worked across the café in a photo lab. He probably used to wait for her to pick her up. That’s why he left earlier than her; the shy girl’s shift ended much before hers!

But then, why the tips? Maybe, he was just being nice and wanted her to say good things about him to shy girl. Little did he know that they didn’t do much talking! And when she used to catch him driving past, he must have been coming after a clandestine meeting with the shy girl. He used to be returning from their house after their secret rendezvous, not stalking her! Where was her common sense? If her had been stalking her, then he would be leaving at her shift end and not coming from the opposite direction when she was heading home

And the day he had stopped her . . . maybe, he wanted access to the house to prepare for this day, so had wanted to introduce himself.

Painful embarrassment gripped her. She hoped that she hadn’t caused too much damage. She chided herself for having let imagination and paranoia get the better of her.

She dragged herself to her room, packed a few things to last her a few days. She would come back and get the rest of her stuff when things cooled down. She left a note.

‘Sorry, I didn’t know and congrats on the engagement’.

She hoped they would not press charges. OUCH.

The Plunge

She looked down at the ocean below. The way it was streaming behind her at great speed and left a wide streak of bubbly foam in its wake, like a cold blaze through true blue. She did not feel a thing. Some people did not go till the edge because it scared them, but it did not intimidate her at all. In fact when it was really hot, as it often was, she felt like taking a plunge in the ice cold water. Oh, what heaven it would feel like, she thought, but obviously could not indulge herself so. Man overboard !! The shouts would go out and the mighty ship would come to a heaving stand still. It would look really foolish when hauled back up she would be questioned about her asinine behaviour . “Oh! I felt hot and the water looked so tempting”, would make a very convincing reply. It would definitely convince them of her insanity.

Well, insane she was not, a bit crazy, yes, but that much crazy was the zeitgeist for then. It was allowed for her age. She should have given it a lot of thought before she signed up for this. But instead of a lot, she had only given it very little, the bare minimum and hopped on board. Impulse.

There was not much to do on the ship and she was regretting her hasty decision. But she was not the kind to brood over spilt milk, she would scoop it up and leave it for the cat to lap up. Now that she was here, she meant to make the most of it. The new session of the literature course was due to begin in two months, so she might as well get started on her reading. She liked the novels much more than the poetry, and some of them, especially the popular ones were so tough to understand. Chaucer and Shakespeare, she called out and vowed to get her head around them some day.

Maggie, she thought she heard her father’s voice and rushed into the navigation room. She always felt so proud to look at her father in his pristine uniform sitting in the Captain’s chair and looking out to the ocean. It was almost like he could understand the language of the splashing waves. He always looked so intent, as if listening to the sounds of the ocean and the secrets it could divulge. Only to him, she imagined, would the ocean reveal its mystery. The relative scale awed her . That a powerful vessel could be commanded by a man, the smallest fraction of her size and angry tempests could be braved by that vessel, the size of a drop of the ocean.
Her father must have left the room, so she decided to write a poem as an ode to the amazement of being on ship. That would definitely make her friends jealous, who, she painfully thought, would be hanging out at some coffee shop or the other, making the most of the holidays, talking about shopping and boys.

She made her way to her room but could not get inside. She must have forgotten the key again. Her father, though amiable, did not like being disturbed during work hours so she decided to go and wait it out in the smoke room where she found a random book, thankful for having something to pass time with. She could not remember when she dozed off but it was almost dusk, when her eyes finally opened. Lazy git, she thought to herself and hurried back to the bridge but she could not find her father. There was somebody else in the captain’s chair now and he did not even give her a passing look. Perhaps he did not like adolescents.

She went to the dining room where everyone was eating. Dinner was served sharp at six. She did not like to eat without her father so she went looking for him on the deck, but not a sight of him. She wandered about the ship. She could ask someone but everyone seemed to be bustling about, and she did not want to interrupt anybody. She went back to the open area on the bridge and looked at the ocean, having nothing better to do. Her father would look for her eventually and this would be the most convenient place for him to find her. It was almost close to midnight now and all she wanted was her pyjamas and the warm bed. Her hunger had died long ago. She just wanted to rest.

Five years ago, she remembered, she had company. There was another boy, though much younger. But at least there was someone to play with. She would make up the most awful stories and try to scare him but he would bravely defy getting scared by any of them. Her own brother was too small to bring on board. She couldn’t wait for him to be big enough as that meant her mommy could come too. She had hated being without her. But she was twelve then, things had changed a lot since then and to say they had grown distant would be an understatement.

She could feel her eyes closing again, and thinking that it would be a good idea to move away from the edge. The sky and the sea both seemed angry. Just as the admonishment from her brain reached her limbs, she felt a jolt. She quickly straightened herself as to her surprise she was almost asleep on the ledge conveniently using her crossed over elbows as a pillow. She turned to go when another gust turned her about making her face the sea again. She felt the pressure propelling her, and the ledge was to slippery to hold on to and try as she might, the wind was too strong for her. There was a relief for a second as the sudden storm relaxed its clutching hold on her. But before she could do anything, a powerful burst pummelled her overboard and there was nothing she could do.

There was not even a splash. She frantically looked about for something to hold onto. But you can’t drown in salt water, she remembered, its the panic. She tried not to gulp the salty water. Keep your lungs intact, her brain told her. But she just seemed to be sinking faster and deeper into the watery abyss. Her father would definitely come looking for her. She held her belief and tried not to struggle against the overwhelming water. She continued to drown, she fraught to keep her eyes though the water stung bitterly.

But that’s when it caught her eye, the lace, the dress, the dull pink, her favourite one long time ago. She could not believe it and tried to swim towards it. She was not sure how long she would last. It must be shallow where she fell, if her breath had lasted so long. She hurried to the dress, and once near enough she found it was wrapped around a body. Her father would look for her, she gasped, not letting hope leave her yet as she dove deeper to reach it and see if she could save that little girl too. When she turned over the body, her mouth fell open and her body gave away. She sagged down to where the body lay. The water did not bother her as she knew she would not last long now. The little girl was beyond saving. Maybe nobody came to look for her.

She realized then that she was not holding onto her breath, but a long and deeply painful wail, which finally escaped her as she stared down at her own face. Her face of five years ago, disfigured, but not so much. The sea had been gentle to her. She caressed it and laughed.

Nobody would shout anything if she fell overboard. No mighty ship will come to a halt. Nobody could feel her wandering through the corridors. Oh, the lost soul that
she was, nobody cared to ask her what was it that she was looking for. Nobody could see her.

Nobody had seen her, ever since the arrival of her baby brother. The shifting affections left a deep impact on her. Mommy did not see her, daddy did not pet her. Grandpa had eyes only for the little boy. She loved him too but it did not consume her as it did them. Their world seemed to begin and end with him. Hers did not.
They had left her alone one day to take her brother to the doctor for his vaccinations. Grandpa, too left declaring that she was a big girl now and could take care of herself, left her for his evening walk. She turned on the TV. And what she saw there made her freeze on the spot. ‘The Abominable Girl Child’, the documentary started, and when it ended, Maggie’s whole world had changed.

Her daddy came and announced that he was required to set sail in two days. He asked her mom to pack for her as well. It would take one of the brats off her hands, and her mom smiled at him. Then she turned to Maggie and vaguely patted her on the head. The abominable girl child, that is what she had become and it was with a heavy heart that she boarded the ship. And it was this heavy heart which sunk her within a week of setting sail. The gust of wind or a pair of strong hands. Only she knew the truth, the familiar feel of those hands. Even the oceans raged against such a terrible fate.

She would have been seventeen today,. She looked down at her twelve year old body and wept over it again.