Cobalt Blue Read Online Free PDF

house, he seemed to be afraid. Would the watchman wake up? Would the gate creak? The house was large; I think he had a military post of some kind but he lived alone in that huge bungalow. He asked me to sit down when we went in. He brought me a can of beer from the fridge. Then he went away, changed his clothes and came back. He took me to a bedroom upstairs. There was a fridge and a bar tucked away behind a glass door. For a long time, he wandered around the room and I sat on the bed, watching him. Then he seemed to relax a little and he came and sat down next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He pushed the hair away from my forehead. Then he drew me close and pulled my head into his lap. He began to pat my head. For what felt like an hour. In the beginning he was silent but then he began to talk, almost to himself. He had slept with many people, he said, but he had never found someone to talk to. He loved children. He paid the fees and expenses of his old retainer’s grandson. Now he was beginning to feel lonely. He had not married and had tried to hide himself in the military. He told me, ‘At first the bodies of young men excited me greatly. But that has passed now. When I see someone of your age, I think: I should have someone like that as a partner. Someone I can call my own, someone to worry about me. But now, at my age, who’s going to let me adopt a boy?’ I just sat there, listening to him. He kept stroking my hair. As I listened, I felt a sadness grow inside me. Then he brought me back to the station road. I gave him my email address; for a few days after that,
    I got email from him. I didn’t know what to write back, so I let them go unanswered.
    Now he had killed himself. I set the paper aside. His voice echoed in my ears. His loneliness was like a warning. I wondered: how long could I play this game of bodies? I needed to find someone with whom I could have a steady relationship.
    Baba came and picked up the paper. He took it and sat down in the chair opposite. Aai brought him tea and said, ‘If you’d care to listen, I was talking to Aseem about the upstairs room. He says now he’s thinking of buying his own flat. So if you want to put that ad in the evening papers for a paying guest . . .’
    Years ago, when Aaji was in charge, we paid strict attention to rituals. The family deity was in our care. That meant festivals and ceremonies had to be celebrated as much for Aaji as for the deity. When Aai had finished cooking, Aaji would take some of what was cooked, on banana leaves, to feed the cow that was tied up outside the temple. Sometimes, she’d take Anuja with her. She was scared of the traffic. If Anuja complained too much or wasn’t home from school, I would have to go. There was no question of refusing; when Baba obeyed without protest, who were we to refuse?
    For three or four days, Aai would sit in a room by herself. She would do no work. She would eat only the food Aaji cooked. Aaji would make everything herself, even the tea. I had no idea why Aai was in seclusion. I’d ask Baba but he wouldn’t answer. All I knew was that she could touch no one and no one could touch her. She even looked different during that time, as if she were a guest in her own home. I would go into her room and sit on a mat and stare at her. Once when she was sleeping, I crept up and touched her body gently. Nothing happened. She looked beautiful and fresh. All day long, she would lie there, reading magazines. Then on the fifth day, she would be up and about, doing her work. Her hair would be wet. But when Aaji fell down the stairs, Aai stopped incarcerating herself for those days.
    When you left suddenly, I felt somewhat as I had felt when I watched Aai sitting alone in her room. That day, it turned dark. And it began to rain. I stood in the backyard, letting myself get wet. You’ll laugh, but for a moment, I even heard the guitar playing in your room.
    When I think about my childhood, I feel the best times