Friday, 9 November 2012

The Angel of Munnar - Part two

'The Angel of Munnar' continues. For all those who have not read the first part look up part one here

After the hectic day and  sumptuous dinner the four poster bed in the master bed room was most alluring.

Out side, the whistling became softer and softer and then slowly died out, but some how I felt it had not, it was just a pause before the sinister. The trees too were still, expecting the ominous.
The stillness carried  remenants of a soft tune that though not  familiar brought to mind Stephan's  'Alayamaniyin osai nan ketten....'( I heard the church bell ringing)

It can not be Stephan's tape recorder again. his quarter is well removed from the bunglow.Is it an alarm?.... Cannot be...I listened closely...... It sounded more like bells tolling.
Far away a nightingale  sang to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. 
The cold night air through the gap of the bath room door chilled the room.
With even the ventilators closed the chill night air comming in was a mystery. The cat that had gone in to the bath roomhad not come out. I could hear fabric rustling, like some one in a long dress. Now, the room looked different. The dressing table invisible,covered in shadows, the portrait of the beautiful young lady...... gone, a faint perfume scented the air.

I heard someone at the table behind my bed, laying something down, very softly.
'So here you are.... at last'.
I felt the fingers. Soft and warm on my scalp. The scent became more familiar.
'What took you so long'..... The soft voice was not complaining. The silence that followed said she had been waiting for long.

'May be you could have done some thing, had you come earlier'.......  
It was just a statement devoid of any emotions. I felt the soft hand on my head.......a consolation from long back?.
'Is it not too late now'.... I felt disappointment in her voice. 

'Every thing has changed. All that was beautiful have vanished. All the flowering trees, the immaculate green meadows, the clean rapid  streams with golden sand below.......all of it. 

Wrought iron Electric lamps on median  of the road, washed every morning and evening …..every thing'.

'At the  corner of the market, by the cinema, the large rose bush underneath which many sat talking...... now in its place a huge heap of rotten chicken bones even the  starving dogs avoid. The river full of white plastic bags instead of lilies. Tractors and dusty jeeps with human figures clinging on to its sides. 

I hate people seeing Munnar like this'. There was no hatred in her voice, just sadness.

'The beautiful shola forests destroyed by resorts vying for guests from far way, here to get drunk in the cool weather and celebrate their synthetic honeymoons........ yes, the good old days are gone for ever.'

' The Dream rail gone long back in the floods, rope ways gone with the greed of many.... the hanging bridges,  bright, colorful cars and the red lorries you loved...... all gone, never to come back'.

A long silence, led me to all the beauty that was.

'Would you tell them how beautiful Munnar was  in those days said the voice From my childhood

The whistling of the trees is not sweet melody any more, the wind carries the cry of the dying nightingale and the tin bird up above. 

A drop of tear on my face, it did not wake me up, May be I was already awake......

"Yes Amme. .....nothing can be done. .........no one can bring back the heaven"

"Good Morning Sir ....You are awake" there was a sigh  of relief from Stephen 


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