Cover image: Artwork by Hervé di Rosa, at Mucem, photo by Pina Piccolo.
In the middle of the forest, a squirrel is trying to break a nut to attract its female partner. The afternoons, for these two individuals, are often conjured by the sound of love. The silence of Landour does not bother them. They fled from the reach of hate mongers to have a life where nothing would be considered insensitive. Forgetting unimportant stuff has always been effortless for them. But those that stick to their bodies and thoughts in the form of scars and information live with them. Cleansing anything that makes them desperate to take impulsive decisions has never been their trait. They fell in love with no guilt. To protect it, they decided to have a home in a place where people have no questions on identity. They leave it restricted to a piece of coated paper, out of their sight.
In most cities, the government has asked the bureaucrats to take the responsibility of installing a software in everyone’s device to make surveillance easier. It will also have an extensive monitoring system that has identification programming. It will help them in detecting criminals and people involved in anti-national activities. Those who have written its code language have addressed the media personnels to describe its operation in detail. In the meantime, the central body has instructed the state bodies to pay a sum of money to anyone who applies for the procedure. The news channels have been screening the information for a week. Some come up with animated visuals. Some focus on preparing their intention by leaving their propaganda in appropriate legalese.
The CEO wearing a purple suit on a nicely ironed shirt, black pants and a clean-shaven face has been popping on every news channel like a constant factor of mathematics. To deliver something improper before billions, one has to come up with a polished demeanour. It works like an eye candy. We are glad to inform you that our technical and managing body has successfully uploaded the Veer software on Play Store and Google browser for the well-being of every individual. It is going to keep them safe from any scam and brainwashing organization. Those who install the chip in their mobile phone and computers will remain under our surveillance so that the countrymen can sleep in peace. On the first day of every month a sum of Rs. 20,000/- will be paid to people who install the mentioned application to support their future endeavours. The information started to spread like a virus and the most infected people danced by clapping two or more steel utensils. The moderately infected ones made plans to visit the origin of infection to ask what should they do to become attractive hosts. The least infected ones looked for an excuse from their workplaces to grant them leave from the AC rooms and prepare them for what is here in the form of peace. Solitude. Less noise. Those who are not visible in the cities, and refrain from getting involved in chaos have acquired a strong immunity after experiencing years of control and policing.
The bazaar of Landour brings with it the unseen version of hill stations. Today the streets are wet after a heavy drizzle, but the fog has not lifted. He wakes up after bashing through nightmares and allows the shower to pour cold water on his body. The heart has to beat harder and it can only happen after he surrenders his body to uncomfortable situations. As the water breaks through the pores of the shower, a shiver runs down his body. Shivers often extend themselves by giving birth to a few more. His clogged head still buried in sleep begins to claw back to reality. While wrapping a towel to cover his groin, he gets to see the elastic marks on his waist. Deep. Vivid. Swollen. They tell him how long he and his lover must have travelled. His exhausted body slept with his jeans on.
In the other room, his lover is still trying to get out of the dimension of sleep. When he tiptoes into the room, she turns her head and speaks something in gibberish. He knows he must move closer to her since he wants to know even her coded words. I dreamt about us making love. Umm! Yes, this isn’t something new. She smells of yesterday and her mouth has its own memory. With parted lips, she confides in his lips. Their first kiss in a land that has given a bit of its body to them. Okay! Stay here. You still haven’t learnt how to wipe your head. Their lips part with a thread of saliva forming a bridge between them. They break the bridge since they know they will build another one, again.She takes the towel from her shoulder while he is busy memorizing what she ate yesterday. Perhaps this is why his body is not resisting her from working with her sleepy eyes. It is busy in filling the blanks.
Are they going to hunt us down? I am really scared about what we both have been witnessing from past one week. She mostly stops doing anything when she has to say something. He knows her habits and rubs her back from the top of her sweat shirt.
Don’t be afraid of bullies. You have always stood tall before them. It’s me who doesn’t know how to deal with them. He pats her cheeks and digs his finger on her right cheek. We came here without our phones. We discarded our laptops, right? We spoke of how we would start writing on paper until this plan turns into a failure too.
I know, but these recent updates just put me down every time I try to get up. Yeah okay! Hush. Let me get into the shower. Please tell me, you did not paint the commode with your betel nut juices. He loves when she flares her nostrils and tries to fake her anger. In love, people flourish even in mundane situations.
He shakes his head and starts arranging the bed. Whenever he does something sporadically, he works on it by putting everything in it. After taking a shower, she moves into the kitchen to make something, since both are ravenously hungry. They arrived here at night. They have not seen how Landour looks from their home. Both think that a balcony view is always important when it comes to setting down roots. As he opens the door to the balcony, the place releases a gasp full of mist on his face. He was born amidst hills so he is habituated to engulfing these gasps. Nature has its own way to greet its subjects. The geometry of hills becomes evident before his vigilant eyes. She brings two bowls of Maggi and keeps them on the table. Eat or they will get cold like you heart got for your ex. He smacks her back and picks up a bowl. The one with more noodles. He loves to be dominant when it comes to food. She grins and whispers a curse in his ear. His smile broadens knowing how lusciously the curse is entering his ear and exploring the darker corners of his mind.
Suddenly a man comes running to their neighbour as if a ghost is running to take his head away. They put their bowls aside and look from the edge of the balcony. I have not seen a man running like this in a long, long time. I know this run. There must be something wrong. They look at each other and cover their heads with their hoodies. Do you think they have reached here too? She looks concerned. They both have always maintained their anonymity and now the authority is challenging it. They again peek at the frightened man to find out what he has seen.
Come out! The imam has been identified as a criminal. Are you listening? Bang Bang Bang! The terrified man is not allowing the door to breathe. A cry of desperation. An act of fear. A jolt of resistance.
Wait! We are coming. Stop banging! The door opens. Two middle aged men come out of their home. Hey! What’s the matter, Aminul? We have told you a hundred times not to scream near our home. One of the men holds the other and calms him down. Don’t worry! Stop panicking. We are okay. Hey! Hey! Look at me. You know I love you. The man looks above and asks Aminul to sit. I am sorry! I know I should not have come here like this, but our imam is getting arrested, and you two are the only ones who can put some sense into the police officer’s head. He lowers his head between his legs and starts to sob. A pain that is as real as it can be. Look Aminul! I know why you came to us, but you also know that we have been ostracized from the main town and now if we move there, we will be pelted with stones. You know it better than most of them. You saved us a few months back. Come inside! Things will happen according to law, and he is not like us. He won’t be deserted.
Up above on the balcony, the two people who fled from their city in fear of being monitored lose their fear. They keep on watching these two older men who are living with each other knowing that those who exiled them are capable of killing them too. A mob can do anything to establish their kind of purity. It seems the world is the same everywhere. Who are we running from? Look at these two men putting their faith in the boy in this bleak time. He looks at them locking his fingers around her slender limbs. She is always warm whenever he is need of some tenderness. I see that too. But what can we do? Human beings look for safety and we did the same. She hugs him and asks him to get back inside the room. Can’t we go and look after the situation? His dissenting mind always looks for a space to disturb those who do something wrong. Of course we can! But not now. I don’t want you to shed tears because of a shell of teargas. Neither can I take any. We are here to write and pour your disgust in your notebook.
He trusts her instinct. He looks back at the men and they have settled the boy now. Perhaps he will not be driven into taking any action that can land him in trouble. Perhaps an entire life of constant monitoring and surveillance. People in love always calm the chaos that churns the head. He now knows it better than anyone else. A screaming news reporter is penetrating through their wall like a predator who does not know his boundaries. News channels are being watched everywhere and even in a place like this, some do care about staying up to date. They get to listen to how people are coming out into the street to support this decision. Some are offering garlands to its originator puppet. Others are hailing God’s name to keep him on the pedestal of a being they never saw.
The screams get muffled by a flute followed by a local song. Before they bought this home, the promoter told them about how they are going to lose their sleep because of their songs. She extends her arms and brings him to their bed. They lock their lips listening to their own song that is resisting a propagandist without taking any credit. The first failure of surveillance. They take off their clothes as the flute moves towards the higher notes. The mist covers the window pane. An absurd yet convincing defeat of the authority. Their bodies move with the escalation of the alaaps. They slither over each other’s bodies when the flutist invades the singer’s alaap with a raag. Here, no one is infected. The immune bodies find their own ways to keep the virus away. A quarantine in which walls do not make anyone claustrophobic. The politicians will play their politics to enter their rooms, but what if they sing a song before those who cannot digest anything that’s pleasant?
Kabir Deb is a writer based in Karimganj, Assam. He is the recipient of Social Journalism Award, 2017; Reuel International Award for Best Upcoming poet, 2019; Nissim International Award, 2021 for Excellence in Literature for his book ‘Irrfan: His Life, Philosophy and Shades’. He reviews books, many of which have been published in national and international magazines. His last book, The Biography of The Bloodless Battles has been shortlisted for Sahitya Akademi Yuva Puraskar, 2025 and Muse India Young Writer's Award, 2024. He works as the Interview Editor for the Usawa Literary Review.
