5:45 pm – The clock displayed the time at its loyal pace, but for Mitali it seemed to have gained exponential speed with each passing minute. She tried to keep her eyes focused on the screen, but an invisible force pulled her line of vision to the clicking hands repeatedly. Finally, her spirits resigned for the day as she shut the laptop flap and untangled the mass of tinkling brass from her feet. Before placing it back she took a moment to admire the heavy bunch; its closely knitted bells giggling together in innocent bliss; the blissful innocence of this beautiful art.

It was a gift from Malini, her sister. Mitali’s passion breathed with her, well concealed in the confines of her heart; left at the mercy of the few stolen solitudes she could conjure up from an otherwise very demanding day. Only her sister knew how much Mitali loved dancing.

She couldn’t disclose it to the world, lest it would lose its enchanted appeal. Once out in the open, it would be labelled as a hobby. Its magical powers will fade away; diluted in the sea of opinions and may be, criticism!

Her place in this web of worldly life was well defined; she had it all, from family to fortune, from love to security. Yet something was missing; and that something was powerful enough to have caved its way through her whole, so much so, that life without it now seemed entirely hollow.

It wasn’t just her love for kathak; it was more than that. It was what she became when she molded her form to be that woman…that woman who danced beautifully, who felt deeply, who expressed openly. It was surreal, it was magical…it was just …something…that was so much more!

“Mummmy” …. a loud announcement preceded the rushed footsteps as her kids barged in the front door. Mitali quickly winded up any traces of her private world, physically and mentally, as she approached them with open arms.

"Well! this is a unique magical moment in itself!” she chuckled as her son moistened her dry expressions with showers of innocent kisses, while her daughter encaged her in a loving hug from behind.

                                                                                                      ******

“The house next to us has been taken up finally bibiji” commented Bani, Mitali’s maid, while doing the house chores next morning. Mitali was busy arranging clean laundry when the remark caught her attention. She wasn’t keen on gossips, but the concerned house abutted theirs like a clingy needy friend.

“Who is it now? A new family will be good to have as neighbours. Shri and Ashi can use some friends!”

Mitali read her thoughts aloud when her maid interjected, "Na na…no family bibiji. It’s a man, a loner. He has asked me to look after the house chores, but only twice a week. He is weird, if you ask me! Likes to keep to himself, always imprisoned in one room upstairs. God alone knows what he does in there all day. He doesn’t let me enter that one part of the house ever. All I can hear are some strange noises!”

Mitali took in the flood of information her maid poured in. Every word about this new neighbour rang bells in her head, and not the good kind.

“He asks me to cook in bulk and stuff the fridge. Doesn’t even go out to work!” her maid concluded dramatically.

Mitali listened to it all with pursed lips, trying to let the worrisome thoughts escape through the parallel path her forehead was creasing into. Still holding the unarranged pile in clutched fists she took a seat near Bani.

“What is his age? What does he look like? Is he scary? Does he treat you ok? How many times have you gone there?”

Realizing Mitali’s concern by the raining queries, Bani clarified the situation. “He has been here only two weeks bibiji. He hired me right away. Though his habits are strange, he is very polite and well behaved. He offered me a good pay, always treats me respectfully and also lets me eat from the stuff I make for him!”

Mitali was expecting the worse, but Bani’s words brought some relief to her mounting apprehension.

Bani on the other hand had shifted to a more gleeful mood. "He seems to be a well off fella. Wears expensive clothes, but always dirty! And still looks pretty delicious!”

Her last remark earned her a spank on the head from Mitali. "Bani behave! You have just tied the knot. What a scandalous remark to make!”

But Bani’s sniggering drowned the scolding as she carried on with her work.

                                                                                                                    ******

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Mitali cursed under her breath. The sight was a mosaic version of herself, adorned with varied shades of dirt and filth. She stepped further in the washroom to change the water, again. The day had coursed from dawn to fading glow. As the hours yawned their way to night, her tiredness and irritation sublimated into more vigorous efforts; the spare room upstairs had to be spotless!

As the occupancy had kept increasing with passing years and mounting responsibilities, she found it tough to have space for herself; in her house; in her own life. Despite the burning summers, the sole unused room upstairs seemed to be her only escape. But months of neglect had left it in clutter; piles of unused or unrequired stuff hibernating in harmony with opportunist beings till further judgement was made for their destiny.’ Much like my talents!’ she mused as she placed her bucket for the final sweep.

She was cleaning the window grill when a shadow in the adjoining house caught her eye. Mitali stepped aside, away from direct view, as she tried to make out what it was. She could sense a human form behind the closed window panes, bent over and busy in some work, amidst a room full of stuff; loads of it with different shapes and forms. She couldn’t decipher any of it. All the occupants of the room were as mysterious as the figure present there. On straining she could make out some electric hum.

Weird! That was her first impression as she closed the window to quickly wind up her work and take a shower. Before leaving she took a moment to praise her efforts; most of the stuff had been cleared off to serve some better purpose elsewhere; she was left with more than adequate room to do her practice in peace. Taking in a deep breath of contentment, Mitali headed down, already excited for the day ahead.

                                                                                                                    ******

Dha TiRaKiTa DhaTiTa DhiGiNa….no no no no…. Dhi Na Ga…. Ufff!

Mitali sat down wiping the summer shimmer off her forehead with her dupatta as she tried to remember the bols perfectly. Unscrewing her bottle, she took a generous sip of cool water and readied herself for another try. As she worked on her positions her gaze shifted again to the shadow, visible quite clearly from where she stood. All throughout her session today, she had felt herself drawn to the sight repeatedly. The interests of the subject of her curiosity intrigued her. What exactly does this man do spending so much time alone, working with these strange instruments?

It had been days since she had been coming up here to dance. And all these days, in her moments of creativity and peace, her steady companion had been a shadow of an entity, engrossed in his passion, with occasional drifts of sounds passing her ears softly, like a feather touch. Sometimes it was some mechanical buzz, sometimes a soft opera music, while occasionally a beautiful voice humming tunes of contentment.

All this should have felt invasive, disturbing; but it didn’t. Mitali herself was surprised to admit, it felt soothing. A feeling…like she was not alone!

How much she had gotten used to her steady companion dawned on her, when two days in a row, all she witnessed was an empty dark silent room, devoid of any activity.

‘It’s none of my business’

‘But what if he needs help’

‘Surely he has friends or relatives. Why should I bother? It’s not like we are even acquainted’

Series of thoughts kept irking her till she gave up and asked Bani.

“Mmm...Bani, you still working at the house next door?”

Mitali asked trying to feign nonchalance.

“Yes, bibiji”

“Oh…okay”

Mitali was thinking of how to frame her next words and still sound disinterested when thankfully Bani volunteered.

“The more I work for him, the more I am puzzled. I still don’t understand what does he do, considering he is so well off. What a luxury it must be, stay in all day and live like a king!"

As Bani continued rattling off her thoughts, Mitali tried to keep her patience; hoping Bani would beat the bush soon.

“I mean, he does look well learned, but what is with all the closed door business? I don’t ask him; I love the pay and don’t want to piss him. But he should have someone with him. Like right now, he is suffering from ill health, and I see no one taking care of him. I have offered to come daily till he recovers, but what about the rest of the day? Anyways, it’s not like he has a job to go to!”

Bani concluded with all the wisdom her mind could muster while Mitali took in every word with impassive expressions.

Inside, she felt concerned.

The whole day thereafter was spent in restlessness.

‘What should I do?’

‘Should I drop by? Should I offer help?’

‘We are not even introduced formally; wouldn’t it feel strange to visit without any prelude?’

‘What will I say? – My spy named Bani, reported your inability to accompany me incognito, for my secret practices?’

Mitali covered her eyes at the absurdity of it all.

‘No no…it all will be extremely inappropriate.’

The words kept beating like a sledgehammer to her conscience as she found herself standing in front of the concerned person’s door.

She was trying to come up with a believable excuse in her mind, and that explained the ten minutes’ delay in pressing the doorbell. Still, her fingers just lingered on the switch without force.

Any minute she could have done it. But the door flew open on its own accord, revealing a bit startled figure in front of her, followed by a loud screech, which was a mingling of the doorbell sound, that Mitali had pressed in shock, along with her shout, that her shuffling thoughts had produced, in that moment of confused panic.

A very long moment of silence ensued with Mitali darting her gaze from the bell to the man to her house to herself and repeat, while the man in question kept staring with a tired face and open mouth. Eventually a soft sound of laughter broke the tension and Mitali found herself smiling sheepishly too at her comic arrival.

“Would you like to come in Mrs. Mehta?” Asked the gentleman with all civility.

Mitali meekly nodded her assent while wondering how he recognized her.

The scene inside was as she had expected- a minimally furnished house, ill-organized albeit clean.

Mitali spent a few moments taking in the ambience before finding a sturdy seat, lest she would add another embarrassment to her already awkward start.

“So what gives me the pleasure of this visit? I apologise for not introducing myself sooner, considering we occupy the sole two houses on this part of the lane.” Her neighbour initiated the talk.

“No, No…no need to apologise. In fact, me and my husband were meaning to welcome you ourselves, just never got the chance to.”

‘Well some part of that sentence must be true’, she rationalised in her head.

After a few beats of silence Mitali continued, “Bani told me you are keeping unwell. I thought I should enquire after your health and check if you need anything.”

“Oh! That’s kind of you. But its okay. Just a viral fever. I feel better already.” He concluded as he proceeded to the kitchen. “Let me get you some refreshments.”

Mitali was about to tell him not to bother but he was already out of ear shot.

As she heard some shuffling inside, Mitali stole another glance around. This time she noticed a few frames adorning the side wall. Quietly she moved to that side of the room and took her time to gaze through each. They were…like paintings, but not exactly so. In an intricate pattern colours and shapes depicted a theme in an expert merge of two and three dimensional components. She didn’t have a great understanding of art, but to her these unconventional creations looked almost ethereal. Each work had a story of its own, and as an onlooker she felt hooked and obliged to decrypt it.

Mitali had no idea how long she stood there, engrossed, when a soft sound of throat clearing made her jump out of her reverie.

“I am happy you noticed my work.” He commented from his seat with a glass of lemonade placed on the central table. The pooled liquid around the stem gave her the answer…she had been lost for quite a while.

Mitali gave him a smile as she took her seat again. “I have never seen anything like this before. I don’t know what it’s called but it’s amazing.”

Sensing the honesty in her voice he showed genuine delight and offered her the drink.

“I am sorry I still haven’t introduced myself to you. I am Kirish Mehra, an artist and an entrepreneur. I have my own art academy in the city, but currently its under renovations. I have shifted here in the outskirts for some peace.”

“And your family?” Mitali’s question came reflexly.

“They all live in Kullu. I am unmarried, or to put it poetically, in a relationship with my work right now!”

He replied with ease.

Mitali nodded in acknowledgement, “Surely your work proves you are a devoted partner!”

To this both laughed and Mitali felt herself more at ease.

“So this is what you work on, all those hours up in the room?”

The moment the words left her, Mitali regretted them. It felt rude to comment on his private time, even if it was for work.

Before she could undo the mistake Kirish stepped in. “Indeed! I am working day in and out for my upcoming exhibition next month.”

As an afterthought he added, “I hope I am not disturbing the peace around. I got the room sound proofed, but for need of ventilation I have to keep it open sometimes.”

At his concern and total lack of offence she had dreaded, Mitali assured him “Not at all! In fact your hours of hard work are a great company to me too.”

And again, Mitali silently cursed her tongue for unleashing here and now.

Before the questions about the sounds of her dancing bells and the polite inquiries thereafter could materialise, she hurriedly finished her drink and politely requested her leave.

“Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need any help.” Mitali offered again at the door.

“Thanks a lot Mrs. Mehta. Please convey my regards to your husband and I hope soon I will get to meet him too.” Kirish replied.

As Mitali was about to leave, Kirish continued. “I don’t know much about classical dance, but I do believe that the melody of the bells pleases only when the wearer puts in it her soul. And your dancing bells are very soothing to ears. They deserve a larger audience.”

With that he smiled and waved goodbye.

Mitali nodded as she headed back, but the words kept rotating in her head like the swirls of her dance form.

They deserve a larger audience!

                                                                                                      ******

“Don’t eat from my plate!”

“Don’t kick my shin you idiot!”

“Then sit properly!”

The background banter between her kids felt muted to Mitali, as she sat on the porch chair holding the invite in her hands.

It announced the unique COMBINE ART EXHIBIT by Kirish Mehra, "THE SHADOW”

His parting words to her from their last meeting had echoed in her head for days. On one hand, she felt more confident in her efforts; but the fact that she was hiding it from the world, from her family, made her feel like a traitor.

‘They will not appreciate it. Or worse, what if they laugh at it. I would never be able to forego such rejection.’

 Her troubling thoughts made her vary of ever opening up to anyone.

The invite had landed at their doorstep when they were out of station. Her practices had been irregular lately and she hadn’t been able to get in touch with Kirish again. Maybe she didn’t want to. He had managed to pierce her safety bubble; leaving her exposed to her own insecurities. The only constant all this time was the steady rhythm of his work, that defined his routine and the glimpses of which motivated her to carry on, despite her doubts about his advice.

“What’s that?” A remark from behind startled her, as she turned around to see Harsh coming in and taking a seat beside her, while Shri occupied his father’s lap.

“It’s an invite to the art exhibit of our neighbour. He must have dropped it here when we were gone.” Mitali clarified.

“Oh Kirish! Ya, I met him few days back, on my way to office. Let me see.” Harsh remarked taking the card from her.

“Combine art…What’s that?” inquired Shri as he tried to take a peek too.

“I don’t know for sure, but something like a mixture of different art forms.” Mitali tried to explain from her impressions of his work.

“Ah! Artists! Always seeking an alternative universe; contorting the straight and simple world, and calling it art!”

Harsh’s casual comment jolted something deep inside Mitali.

“It takes hours of hard work and dedication to create something beautiful. We cannot appreciate the beauty, unless we pause to appreciate the nuances of the art.” She tried to keep her voice even, though every word was coming out through filters of caution.

“Everyone calls him weird Mom! He is locked away in his house for hours. Does he have dragons caged in there.” Shri enquired innocently, while Harsh chuckled.

But seeing Mitali was serious, Harsh continued in a softer tone, "The pursuit of art suits the rich, or the ones with the luxury of vain hours. It is not for practical people like us. Artists live in their own world, see things through their own perspective; and if not economically sound, seldom end up with a stable livelihood.”

“I am not advocating art as a profession Harsh, though that in itself is as good as any. I am stressing on the fact that people with artistic abilities can sense things that you and I may oversee easily. Every talent has a purpose, a deeper meaning; not dependent on acknowledgement.”

It was just a casual discussion, but Mitali realised she was defending more than art, more than artists; she was trying to defend her dream too.

Further debate dissipated as Harsh went in to receive a call and the kids re-engaged in their trivial emergencies.

For Mitali though, it felt like a wound had been bared again.

                                                                                                 *******

“Mom, is it the ice-cream parlour?”

“Na re! It’s a movie theatre, right mom?”

Shri and Ashi kept pulling her either hand for answers, as Mitali stood in front of the City Centre, trying to negotiate her way through the swinging doors.

She softly but firmly instructed them both. “Children, please speak in hushed tones and behave. We are in an art gallery; shouting here are bad manners.”

To this both kids sealed their lips with a lone finger in mock exaggeration, bringing a smile to her face.

After days of procrastinating, Mitali had finally made up her mind to visit the exhibit. Bringing the kids wasn’t the original plan; but seeing no other option, she decided to give them a piece of the experience too.

Surfing her way through the corridors, she followed the arrows directing her to the core venue. As she entered the same, her eyes caught a wide array of displays adorning opposite walls of a long hall.

Admirers were scattered throughout the place, taking their time to study each work with pensive expressions, before moving on to the next. With each passing eye, every individual art work seemed to imbibe the reactions, enhancing its character….as if the more perceptions it was exposed to, the more depth it gained. The observers, on the other hand, carried an imprint of each work on their conscience; that interpretation, which had invisibly reached out to their minds from the framed inanimate.

Mitali felt she was coursing the crests and troughs of emotions, as she tried to decode the entities through the confined portals of her knowledge. Her kids, to her surprise, looked entranced too, as they enjoyed their own innocent interpretations of the myriad of shapes and colours they were exposed to. She was only half way through when she spotted Kirish near the seating area.

She approached him to convey her admiration. “These are beautiful Mr. Mehra! You are a very talented artist.”

Kirish accepted her compliments with sincerity. “Thank you very much. Are these your kids? They are adorable.”

Kirish patted their heads while they offered a soft hello.

“Are you present here daily, throughout the stretch of the display?” Mitali asked out of curiosity.

“Not daily. Today I am here to close the deals for a few of my creations that earned new homes.”

Mitali didn’t miss the choice of his words.

“And speaking so, I would like you to see a particular one. Come this way please.”

Mitali followed him intrigued as Kirish guided her to the other end of the room.

When he stepped aside to reveal the referred article, Mitali stared in amazed disbelief at the display in front of her. A frame beheld a beautiful sculpture of a lady deep in thoughts with eyes conveying conflicts; while the background held a life like painting of the same lady with similar posture. On a casual glance the painting could be mistaken as a simple shadow, but on keen observation, one could make out the mudras of her hands, the brass bells on her feet and the content confidence radiating through the windows of her soul.

Mitali felt like all her emotions had sublimed from her being and transpired into a form that defined her, better than her own mass of living cells.

“Mom! This statue looks like you!” Shri’s squeal broke her trance.

“No! It’s the painted one that resembles her.” commented Ashi.

Mitali could hardly find words but her moistened eyes spoke volumes.

“I hope you are not offended by this work”. Kirish asked in a concerned voice.

Mitali finally found her voice to assure him that was not the case. “This is beautiful. Thankyou!”

“Can I own it?” She asked hesitantly, since she had never done art shopping before.

“Of course! Who would be a better owner than you?” Kirish affirmed.

“It doesn’t bear a description as others do.” Mitali commented seeing the blank tag.

“It does…it’s called ‘THE EMERGING SHADOW’” Kirish spoke with conviction.

Mitali beamed at the revelation, as she fondly gazed at her new possession. “It’s an apt name, and it’s the right time too!”

                                                                                  THE END