Ice maiden

It seems when you are dying, your entire life plays back in your mind.  From the number of nostalgic posts that seem to appear here, I wonder...

But lets not get morbid and get on to the facts.

A friend from a frigid country wondered in the course of  a chat if we see snow where I live.  I said that I am not sorry we don't, for I have seen enough snow in two years that would last me this lifetime and next. And then the concentric circles started spinning in my minds eye, taking me to the mid-years of the previous decade.

I was a not-yet-disillusioned, young, enthusiastic, unattached girl, spending days and nights at the lab, returning home for cooking, sleeping and sanitation purposes.  As a general rule, I would catch the 11.50 PM bus back to Vincent Apartments, after setting up my experiments or working up the results or flinging the precipitate into the sink with frustrations of not getting the elusive -21 hydride signal in the proton NMR.  I would reach home around midnight, have my dinner of honey nut cheerios in Vit D milk while gossipping with roommate Anjana, and sink into my cozy bed with the cozier comforter and Wodehouse for company.

One Feb night.  11.45 PM.  Lock up the lab and come out to see a blazing snowstorm.  Never mind. The bus would be here in five minutes and I will be back into the warm abode before the snowstorm gets any worse.  I wait at the bus stop, with Shonty, who lives in the adjacent set of apartments to mine. 11.50 - no bus.  11.55 - no bus, 00.00, no bus, but a good Samaritan tells us that the bus has been cancelled.  Oh hell, I tell Shonty.  Thats ok. I have a toothbrush in my bag.  I can just sleep in the lab.

But no.  Shonty disagrees.  Says he knows a shortcut to our apartments behind his department.  I am skeptical, because physics department is further down from chemistry.  But he tempts me with hot tea and I agree to go with him.  So, like Mary's little lamb, I faithfully follow him.  He goes behind his department and steps into... the cemetery.   Well, Shonty knows best. 

By now the snow storm is so bad that I can only see a silhouette of Shonty standing half a meter away from me. The icy wind is howling.  The entire cemetery has an eerie glow from the snow, with tombstones jutting out.  Shonty points out to one tombstone and says the epitaph there is "here lies Syracuse" and laughs.  I find nothing funny.  Then he says "somedays I can hear hyenas here".  Yeah, sure Shonty.  I want to know more. 

And then,  I feel it.  Icy water leaking into my snow boots  and wetting my socks.  Great.  That's all I need.   Within a matter of seconds my feet go numb with cold and I can't feel my toes anymore.  I decide that they fell off (I had read that frost bite can make toes fall off) and I hope they are safe inside my shoe until I can take it to the surgeon to sew it back on.  And for no reason at all, I suddenly remember every scene from "Pet Sematary" that I had made RamP and the gang watch instead of the porn they were planning to watch Saturday night.   Why? Oh Why? I ask myself aloud. 

Shonty realizes finally that all is not well at my end.  I tell him of the scene from Pet Sematary when the cat comes back to haunt the house.  Shonty gives me a crazy grin and says - "how do you know I really AM Shonty"?  My heart stops for a moment.  I try to reason within me that American ghosts found in American cemeteries would not speak English with a Bihari accent.  I try to look for fangs on his face but can't see too well with watering eyes.

We walk on for what seems like eternity.  And then he points out and says "there is the apartment". I see in the direction and only find buckets and buckets of snow falling.  I am resigned to my fate.  I would die anyway, whether it is of cold or fang bites is only a matter of discovery.   I wonder what God I should pray to. 

And a few minutes later, I see the outline of a building.  I wonder if it is the pearly gate.  But it seems it IS Shonty's apartment.  The rest of the travel is a blur.  I only remember sipping a steaming cup of chai and wearing Shonty's socks.  I guess Shonty must have dropped me off at my own apartment, Anjana should know.

If someone knows one Shantenu Jha, please give me his coordinates.  I need to tell him that the route through the cemetery is NOT a short cut to Vincent apartments.

Comments

[Asmoments]

Oh  Lakshmi....you are so dear and so sweet.  I want to give you a hug.  Now I know living with you for one year was the besst part of this Studying at Syracuse  (SAS) stuff.
I do not recall that night at all but I do recall that we used to chit chat sometimes when I was awake.  I know you alwasy came late and I wondered where is this girl.  Now I know you were experimenting in the lab (smile smile).

Your post today  made my day.  I will be smiling throught the day today.  And you write so so very well.  I love to read your stuff.  I have made up my mind....I am going to meet you one more time in my life...just to be with you and laugh.  It feels as if I know you more now that I knew you then.  I do remember one time when you wore my saree when someone was coming to see you.  You were so mad but let me tell you ...you looked so pretty.  You had perfact figure for a saree and that voice...I wish I had heard more of  your songs.  You looked so pretty in those sarees at our diwali functions. 

 

And who is Santanu Jha...I can not remember him at all. 

Love you..... Anjana

[Ana Karin]

Lakshmi... technically the cemetery IS the short cut from SU to Vincent Apts.  However, I can completely relate to your story, having lived something similar during another snowy cold dreary night in Syracuse. 

I really loved your post, it brought back Syracuse to my like a bucket of cold snow.  And made me realize why I refuse to live in locations that do get snow.

[Terri]

My mind is bursting with questions, and the standard how-could-you-trust-some-guy-in-the-middle-of-the-night accusations. But here's what I really want to know: Why do you carry a toothbrush around in your purse?

Condom - I can understand; tampon - yes; ketchup - only if you have to. But a toothbrush?!!

[Asmoments]

Terri   ....we carry toothbrushes so we can sleep where ever it becomes necessary (smile smile) and get up with clean mouth.....

[choxbox]

I try to reason within me that American ghosts found in American cemeteries would not speak English with a Bihari accent..

LOL!

[The Doug]

All that fear and freezing make for a great epic story years later :-)

[Lakshmi]

AK, in a snow storm, any distance is lightyears from anywhere else. Especially when you are wearing leaky shoes.
Terri, not to worry.  With a beauty like Shonty's girl friend, whom I knew very well, Shonty would not consider any other girl, girl at all.
Anjana, Terri, the chemistry department was thinking of charging me a rent and building a bathroom for me, considering how often I slept over my glassware. Sadly, the toothbrush did not serve romantic purposes as some people seem to envisage.
Doug, my life is a comedy of errors.

[Vijay]

[this is good] Apart from the obvious question that Terri asked, I want to know what made you trust a Bihari to know anything? ;o)
The toothbrush is useful for what used to be known as a "come for dinner, stay for breakfast" date in my days at Manipal. Sadly, I never had a chance to find out if that particular type of date ever existed.

[Lakshmi]

Just the fact that the Bihari was a super intelligent fellow, doing a Ph.D in physics, and had ambitions to run for elections and become a prime minister of our country.  If he does at some point of time, I am sure our nation would be in good hands.
Come for dinner stay for breakfast was most of my days in grad school, the only glitch being the stayover was at my lab, with only my organometallic complexes for company.

[Hurricane Hetta]

I enjoyed your story!  I nearly thought I was there ;)

[Vijay]

[this is good] This is too good a coincidence to pass up. You have something in common with the "Thalaivar" - check out his favorite vacation spot :)

[Lakshmi]

You don't want to be there, HH.  Trust me.

[Lakshmi]

See, it's all in the family

Clarification: Thalaivar is by way of chithappa to me - his wife is my long-estranged aunt