The Tale Of Tilottama by Aparajita Dutta

artist : sachin venkatesh

I can see your recondite tears,

Your love for me, even the shore hears,

Then why are you so silent ? !!

 I still remember leaving Tilottama......It was midnight .... Her outlandish anchal concealed her tears. I have always been the interloper. 3 years back, I was puerile, but this time, I am conscious. Lemon’s cries could not break through the stratosphere or maybe, I didn’t try to remember that I am being missed. I have never wanted to palliate, neither 3 years ago, nor this time. Why would I do it 3 years ago when my heart was dripping with dubious melodies? But this time, even, I did not. Even with Tilottama, I really do not know what it ‘is’ or what it ‘was’. She has never been spurious of my actions – maybe, she knew the real ‘me’ ---- someone whom I can never understand.  I am not worthy enough to plumb her feelings for me. Guilt? 

Maybe ---- may not be. I never tried to. I am not going to do it this time. But Lemon ?? What is his fault? This is really don’t know. I will be back to leave them again. It is something I have been trying to convince 

myself since months before leaving; Lemon never understood – he is a child; how can he understand the qualid ways of a wanderer like me? 

I have not left Tilottama since the last 2.5 years and Lemon is just 2 years old. 

 I did not cry. Lemon thought I was just leaving for some work, which I would always do. He knew I am coming back. I am, of course, but after a few months. The clock is a wanderer’s enemy. This is true for me. 

It is the Time who is close to me. The time, who does not remind me of the moments which I am losing, rather, like the soft velvet petals, impregnated with the aroma of a winked present, presses against my 

skin, drooling in my breathe, and whispering –‘ it won’t take a moment to wither away ‘. The mechanical clock can never be a friend to the erratic wanderer. 

 Tilottama knows that I have plans to leave after my return. But I have never heard her ask me. I always find her in her phlegmatic self. But she loves me --- she has always done so. She never impedes me for maybe, she can feel my rave for wanderlust. In spite of me kissing her in ignorance, she never forbears to give me all the comforts and pleasure I need in my life. 

 Why do I leave Tilottama? I ask myself!! I don’t know. Those stolen kisses are still somewhere within the saliva of my lips, which I have pressed against hers in dust. Her each and every nerve seemed to be blooming in seminal notes and I, like the esurient wanderer have 

pounced upon her, trying to drain out everything she had but failing again and again. She would never dry up. Was this the reason I have come back to her again and again? Or that is just another ball game? 

 (II)

Strange are the ways of a lover’s touch,

Strange are the ways of the time’s watch;

Let Eternity weave the threads of our love !!

 The announcement that soon, we will be landing at Dubai, broke through my abstracted mind. I was least bothered about Dubai. For some reason, my cherubic valentine of the Atlantic shore had started denigrating my overburdened heart. Something inside me, started saying that I was not going to see my ‘ Atlantic angel ‘-- my cherubic valentine of the Atlantic shore. I had fantasized her for years and 3 years ago, when I finally met her, she turned out to be more enigmatic than I could have ever imagined her to be. I was a foreigner in her land --- but she never treated me as one. I remember those silent nights with her where she would pour drizzles of love, allaying me from the sun’s heat. In the dawn, she looked like an azure empress, preened 

in purple gown with trails of mauve and black. She was coquettish in her manners and carried a certain elegance in her which allured me , making me forget about Tilottama. Honestly, I didn’t miss her. Not a 

single day, I would remember her. I knew, I was going to return back to her. Was this sense of security actually playing with my mind in my acts of remembering? I thought I was enjoying the best of both worlds. The only thing I didn’t know was that I was , consciously or unconsciously, practicing the act called : compromise. My ‘ Atlantis angel ‘ was an empress in her own way--- graceful, genial and gorgeous. She was more of a queen, rather than a servile wife like Tilottama, continuously keeping everything at my finger’s

reach. My ‘Atlantis angel’ would let me explore --- something which I loved but I was never lost. I would look at her with awe feeling the soft sands of her skin. She would make love to me, in ways, pretty outré , 

making me lose my way in her heart. When it was time for me to leave her, I cried. Yes !! I did cry but we did not have any option. We had to part. When I came back to Tilottama, it occurred to me that I have fallen in love with my Tilottama again. 

 (III)

Let me leave for I will come again,

Let me drown in love, let us feel the pain;

Tell me, will you not miss me??

 Homesickness is not love, by now, I have become pretty sure of it. Then again, what is it ? What I have understood is that, it is the sense of security which I find in Tilottama. No matter where I go, when I come 

back to Tilottama, she would remain the same. But leaving Lemon pricks the thorns of guilt within me. I am going to come back this time but the preparations I am taking to leave next year? I understand, my priorities are changing and for some reason, I rue to bring forth this fate on Lemon. Sometimes, we are bound to fulfill our responsibilities. My eyes could see the flickering candles of Wichita. Wichita is calling me and I am bound to leave. I have no option but to accede to her call. Wichita needs me. And I know, when I come back, my Kolkata Tilottama will remain the same. She will nourish me in the same way she has done and if I leave for the next time, she won’t forbid me. May be, my pet bird Lemon will get used to my absence and maybe, then, I will miss being missed !!

About the Author :

She is a research scholar in the Department of Comparative Literature, Jadavpur University, India. She loves to write and read as well. Creativity means everything to her, be it composing poetry or cooking or even photography. She travels a lot and enjoys learning new languages. She derives her inspiration from different spheres of life, including her little sunshines, her two pet birdies , dogs and cats. 

Please visit her blog and she will be extremely grateful to receive your comments and criticism. Be creative. Stay blessed.