Short Story
Encounter in the twilight zone
It started with few verses, that I Alif, wrote while in the West, which reached the desk of Mr. Z in the East, the decision maker of whether to print or not to print. Such is the amazing work of e-mails! Meanwhile, the instructions that accompanied the write-up in case it was to be acknowledged, was to use a pen name reflecting my desire to be anonymous. Then one day, to my utter dismay, so to speak, while thumbing through the pages of the newspaper on the net, there it was…my verses and my name staring right back at me! My first venture in creative writing and I had no clue it was accepted. So, I decided to deal directly with Mr. Z, and hence the discourse began. My first e-note to Mr. Z with introduction, thanks and another poem attachment:
"May I address you by your first name? I am submitting another poem for your consideration to print. Let me know if this is what your readers are interested in."
Z: "Thanks, Will surely read it. I am sure it's good. I will get back to you on it. You back in the West? Cheers."
Well, at least the note ended with a question. Perhaps an answer was anticipated? I like resolution, completion and closures. So, I wrote back:
"Yes, I am back and plan to be in town sometime in November. Appreciate your response. If you don't mind, what made you join the newspaper? Besides work, of course! Cheers."
Meaning, I wanted to know a bit more about the person who weighed my words for readership. To be on the same wave length I decided to end my sentence on the same note - Cheers. Then the wait began, at which I am no good. The following arrived after a few more days.
Z: "Sorry to be answering this mail so late. What made me join the newspaper? Etc. etc....the experience has been good so far. You take care."
To my disappointment no reference was made to what I had sent Mr. Z. Perhaps, to be brutally candid was not his style or perhaps the etiquette of the East dictated his style. I was adamant to find out.
"Greetings Z. About the above referenced item (the poem)…any comments? Hesitant to forward more writings without feedback from you."
Z: "Dear Alif. Sure, will use the item. Meanwhile, keep sending more writings."
The message was clear to me; he was not going to comment on my verses. So, he politely addressed me as 'dear' and wanted to further assess my expertise. So I wrote back:
"Hello again, Z. Your writing style is unique. Were you in the West?"
And so I find out, we had something in common; we both graduated high school from the same country. Small world, indeed! This prompted me to write back with an ending "until next time." And then…
Z: "It's a beautiful rain-filled morning here. And I am savoring every moment of it. You take care. Cheers."
I begin to notice he replies to the tune of my writings. Someone sensitive? Ok, so I think, let us continue on this road.
"My kind of day! Same here. The amazing transformation of rust colored leaves into a verdant blanket is really refreshing. I wish it could wash away the distress faced by the general people when the roads are water clogged…will it ever end?"
Z: "Our state of distress? I am not sure it will end any time soon, if it at all does. The kind of inspirational, intellectually-powered political leadership you expect in modern times is tragically missing in this country.
But, yes, I would give anything to be in the West now and walk under the soft-falling autumn leaves. As a Frenchman once said, everything pales, everything palls, everything falls. That's life, isn't it? Transient yet meaningful…Cheers."
Mr. Z. presented a harshly debatable topic, at the same time was benevolent towards something pleasing,
all in the same note. I responded.
"Z, are you this generous to all your contributors? Nevertheless, I do look forward to the words you send my way. Understandably, we do not have the rational political apparatus in place, but not to hope? More on the subject later. Keep well."
This, of course, never happened. I was afraid the discourse on political reality could not be entertained in two sentences, nor did I know if it was a welcome subject. So I let go. Instead, commented on his generosity, a word open to interpretation. And sure enough…
Z: "Where did you see generosity here? Would you explain? It's Saturday morning here and I just arrived at work. It should be a fairly easy day and in the evening I plan on going to a solo musical show. You must be asleep now. Look forward to your waking up and then hearing from you. Cheers and enjoy the weekend."
I was puzzled. A reference to an act of his liking along with an invitation to write back! Again, I noticed the reference to something I had written in one of my poems. I wanted to hold back but got drawn in…
"Z, I was actually referring to the professional courtesy that you have extended by acknowledging my notes. There is another reason. I entrust my writings to you for appraisal of readership. But then, I do not like unknowns! By sharing bits of information about yourself you are bridging my apprehension. That, I believe, is generosity.
On a different note, why not hope for the country? I sense the pride in reviving the culture to be already alive and thriving...it is the physical infrastructure and the political system that is so badly wanting. And yes, cheers!"
Z: "It has been a pleasure reading your poetry. I do hope you and I keep that intellectual contact from here on. Isn't it a great feeling to talk and think of matters that have to do with the purely literary? I really value these contacts, this friendship with you."
Well, Mr. Z, you cannot possibly fathom my camaraderie with 'words'! I need to feel the intensity of words, visualize the expressions, be silly, laugh, cry, and understand its meaning, all on my own terms. There is no judgment call between the two of us. It is a safe haven and I feel secure in this friendship. No one has been able to replace it. And so I inquire, "Friendship?"
Z: "Yes, friendship . . . exploration of the world of intellect, of creative literature. Our shared interest in poetry, fiction and literary criticism. You sound surprised? Are you really?"
Yes, I am surprised, even if Mr. Z used the word 'friendship' in the passing of a simple expression, for me it is a very definitive word. I have never felt the urge to make friends as I never found a person who could play by my rules, and with whom I could share my whims in any form or sense. Don't get me wrong. Friendly, that I am. But friendship, no matter on what foundation, is something unreachable for me. Nonetheless, Mr. Z caught my attention. In the meanwhile, I read a brief written by Mr. Z in the newspaper. I was pleasantly surprised by his authority over prosodical expressions. I felt compelled to express my feelings.
"Some 7,800 miles plus away, yet you can introduce yourself to a reader...such is the power of words!'Linguistic exuberance' (terms he had used in this writing) - that is what sets the keen mind apart; I enjoyed the blend of sarcasm, humor, reality and the tasteful infusion of literature; and more..."
Z: "First, my apologies for not being able to get back to you yesterday. It was a packed day… And thanks for your comments. Yes, the 'Sun God' piece is mine (I had inquired about one of his writings). Where did you get to read that?"
I forwarded him another poem of mine and along with it a piece of my mind. I have the habit of tuning in to not only the written words but direct dialogues as well.
"It was a toss-up between two poems. I decided to go with the one that I have attached. Besides your feedback, I like to know the chance of this poem being selected for print. Of course based on the assessment of your readers! What I wrote in my last note is: Sun God is the only piece to which I had no access! I want to read it."
I was still at it, not ready to let go. I needed to know how good my reflections were in words. Unfortunately, the two versions of technology, or rather conversions interfered!
Z: "I am afraid you will need to send me the attachment again since it has come to me in garbled form. Let me see if I can retrieve the Sun God (review) and as soon as I do it, I'll pass it on to you. I wrote it more than a year ago. Stay well, my friend."
My predicament was how to let someone you do not know hear you from afar? Flustered, that I was! So I wrote:
"For one, I have noticed your attention span to read a note is not very long, you give it a quick scan! Am I right? And hence the attachments...
When do you take off? Will you write from there? Moments seized; the season; the comfort - family and friends; and what not...your thoughts only, no references to the already established. By asking this am I trespassing? Please read the attachment and comment."
I was still in the mode of 'peer reviewed' works for publication. A total misunderstanding in this case!
Z: "I am sorry about giving you such an impression. As a matter of fact, I do have a good attention span and I do love listening to other people. As for you, I wouldn't dream of not hearing you out fully before making a response. There are times when I am in a hurry. But, here's a promise: I'll try not to be disappointing again.
It's a rather listless Saturday and my mind is in London. Yes, I always do my work from there when I am not here. It's not leave that I take; I simply relocate myself. How is your weekend to be? Take care."
Frankly, I do not know what I was expecting when I wrote the note. I had definitely crossed his turf and felt a bit embarrassed. After all, I do not know the gentleman. So, I added a bit of genuine appreciation and a question about which I was intrigued!
"First, my sincerest apologies. I had no right to comment on your attention span...as I honestly do not know you! I have totally embarrassed myself.
You said, 'Cheers is what I use when I am quite sure I can relate to someone with ease.' Can you relate...really? How so?"
And then a pleasant surprise, or perhaps a polite way of getting the message across to me. Either way I accepted it.
Z: "There is absolutely no need to apologize. I took your question in a simple, friendly way and I thought it deserved an answer. Besides, I consider you my very good friend, which means you have all the right in the world to ask me anything.
It's the end of the day here. Another day ends; twilight takes hold of life --- and mortality inches forward by a few more steps. Remember that line from Thomas Gray ...'the paths of glory lead but to the grave ...'? Stay well, my friend."
No acknowledgement but I see an indirect reference to the poem that I had sent Mr. Z recently! Nevertheless, I was beginning to get comfortable enough to ask my unknown contact to define 'a moment captured.' In reciprocation he said, 'a point in time arrested in space because of the lilt it gives the heart and the colors it brushes the twilight with.' His response was a welcome change. We live in a world of borrowed thoughts, borrowed poems, borrowed literature, borrowed concepts, borrowed theories-all in the name of socialization, grooming, history, knowledge based on evidence etc. etc. Can we not think in present, now and here? Thus I liked Mr. Z's observation more than "on the continuum of time, the concept of moment becomes redundant as time does not stop, and as such it cannot be captured!" a rejoinder provided by an economist, original though it was. I ventured into my own concept.
It rained while the sun was shining on the field of golden crops
Infinitely beautiful for one to see, millions of droplets of dewdrops
A life breathed gently while laying on my heart
A child connected by the umbilical cord from start
Soon to diverge
I had never known this warmth of love
The peace so complete
Drawn by the wonder of contentment
I hold this day rejoicing the earth, life, existence
Feeling the rain on my face, feeling the sun, I spread my arms and I danced
It is a moment captured, isn't it?
And I often ask myself, what is all this conversation about? My supposedly one-time encounter has become quite lengthy. Friendship, it was not meant to be. Is it simply exchange of words for words' sake among two faceless existences? Whatever it was and is, we continue to exchange notes on books, music, poems, and I have the pleasure to look up, once again, such words as coruscating, lilt, cerebral and so forth! Somewhere in between we discovered the pleasure of having mutual interests. And then, once I noted, "I do want to visit the art galleries, see krisnochura in bloom, see the winter mist on green, spin around the city at night...ah, the innocent pleasures; I want to be home." To which, very poignantly, Mr. Z replied, "Come home, Alif."
Some encounters leave imprint without purpose. It is one of those that get gently tucked away with utmost care!
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