Footloose Devotee

She ran as fast as she could, taking long and deep breath in between. It was an unusually hot morning of cool December in Chennai. The fog was visible, but not that beautiful. It was burdened with weight of dirt and particulate pollutant. It made her long for the clean air back home. It didn’t have such a beautiful beach but it indeed had a sweet charm to its own. As her feet kept pounding on the loose beach sand of marina her mind travelled to the moist brown sand of the paddy field back home. With a deeper sigh she continued to run.

She loved to run, some call her crazy, others call her devoted; she didn’t want to call it anything. Deep down she knew it was more than an effort to stay fit. It was defining her inner urge. All that Meenakshi wanted to do was run away.

Don’t mistake her for a second. She was not the brainless person in love who wanted to elope. She was a footloose person. She loved to travel. Name a place in South India and she would tell you an interesting tale about her trip to that place. It frustrates her when she stuck in the same place for long.

Being a journalist by profession, it gave her good excuses to run away, officially. She was a strong girl, unlike her siblings and family. It made her father proud and mother scared. She was a news correspondent for a major Tamil news channel based out of Chennai.

She could even miss breathing, but not the morning jog in Marina when in Chennai, never, not even for the world. It gave her sense and purpose of existence. It helped her kick start her day in the crazy media world. It is not all as glamorous as people think. May be for news reporters who are safe in the news rooms, life is easy.  Meenakshi, she sees deaths, births, heroes and villains day in and day out. People say that you need a heart of steel for this profession, Meenakshi believed elsewise.

If you don’t have a heart when you tell news, the people never understand its seriousness. There is so much sad news in the world and people are so used to it that it no longer hurts or kindles the soul. A bomb blast is as ordinary as Diwali cracker as long as someone we love is safe and sound. Life is chaotic and we have learnt to accept it. This attitude irritated her. She doesn’t want a sentimentally weak population, instead emotionally aware and empathetic beings.  

Meenakshi’s purpose was different. Her love for travel not because she had this checklist of places she wanted to visit before she dies or because she was nursing an ailing heart, but because she was a writer. Even in a busy schedule she finds time to write as well. She says, “Time is what you make of it not what you have.”

Everywhere she goes, she is not in search of the scenic point but honest and friendly humans who would give her a glimpse of their life. If news must have a human angle her book must have a voice and character of its own.

Every morning after a jog she sat down near the water edge, waiting for the sun to rise. It makes her happy as if the sun was coming up just so see her. Not many people jog that early. I made her feel closer to God. Being born in an orthodox Hindu family, God was something she couldn’t fail to believe in. For her God was in the men, women and children who went out of their way to help other things and people- moat to man.

After taking a glimpse of the rising sun she closed her eyes and prayed. Without her knowledge, tears came down her cheeks. It was uncalled for. Those who knew her well would say “Don’t be ridiculous Meenu never cries.” Being strong is not easy. Being strong always is impossible. She had a lot of friends but not a soul has seen her cry. For her, crying in public an absolute no-no. Her parents took pride in that fact. She was this solid person to whom you could go in anytime for any reason, she always found time for you.

Sadly, the whole process absorbs energy. Energy can neither be created nor be destroyed. If just get transformed from one for to another. Thus she was like this power reactor churning out love and energy in several million kW (assuming that love and care is measured in kW). But she is no God to create something out of nothing. It was this beach that bore witness to her joy, sorrow, fear and hope. It knew everything about her infact more than the best lover in the world. She felt like she belonged there.

 She was conversing with the breeze and the tide, begging them to help her clear her mind. Her parents had come up with a marriage proposal for her. He was in all means a great guy. She was in all means straight and intended to marry a nice person soon. She didn’t have a boyfriend either. Frankly she didn’t have time for one. There was only one glitch. He was settled in Germany. She was in love with her job and intended to continue it. Yet again he was a nice person and she was 25, dinosaur’s age in her community. Her parents begged her to get married. But is he worth all the sacrifice?

She had no heart to leave her job or the guts to disobey her parents. She was at a fix. She wished that God would appear in front of her and tell her what to do. She got up washed her face with the salt water. It tingled and irritated her skin on the sun rashes. Most of her days involve intense exposure to the sun, waiting for a cricket star or reporting a strike, it all takes hours of exposure to the sun. She felt that the salt water cleansed her skin and cleared her thought. Though a good skin expert would shun such an act and give her half a dozen creams and even more lotions.

With the salty sea water her tears too mixed and were washed away. She walked towards her car. She was checking her mail on her mobile. She read for a while and smiled through most of it. She read and re-read it. When she was done reading she screamed out loud, not in pain but in joy. The joggers near-by stared at her as if she were from some another planet. She was too happy to bother.

She walked as if she was walking in the air. Frankly, if I were her I would have too. When your first book is going to be published and you are paid an advance for the next one as well why wouldn’t you? God did speak with her.

Epilogue:

Exactly 2 years later she was in the beach with her husband. They came to the beach before returning to Germany. They held their hand tight and started at the horizon. Meenakshi stole a glance of her husband and thought of how her life had changed all with a single e mail. God wanted it that way. She went close to him for a peck on his cheek and they waited for the sunrise.