Wind Up Bird

Hair Raising Delhi Winters

2012-01-12T05:09:00.000-08:00

I have never really understood why many people are fond of winters. I don't know about others, but when I think of winters, I don't see myself holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate wrapped up in a super warm quilt. What I see is me, wearing so many layers of clothing that I find it hard to bend down and tie my shoe laces, or me, ranting to myself a useless pep talk for at least an hour before I can manage to get out of bed for work, or me, getting out of work in the evening with the misleading darkness outside suggesting it's midnight.

In short, I have never been a winter person, and today's entry is exactly about that. It's quick and simple, and in any case, it's super hard to work in winter so, in a strange way, it fits!

Hello 2012

2011-12-29T09:06:00.000-08:00

This artwork has been designed for a start-up design workshop called Double Decker which is partnered by my sister, a lifestyle accessory and product designer and incidentally, me! Do check us out, we are super excited about what we are doing! Click here to head to our facebook page!

IF: Brigade

2011-12-08T23:45:00.000-08:00

For me, this week’s topic only ‘brigaded’ with one of the main streets in bangalore -- Brigade Road. It’s a street lined with quite a few shops and what I have illustrated here is the junction of Brigade Road, with a view of the Opera building, a dilapidated building probably one of the oldest buildings there.

Here is an old photograph of what Bangalore was then, a rather
contrasting visual to what that street looks like now.
Click here for image source.

Happy birthday to me :P

2011-11-03T22:24:00.000-07:00

Hello! It has been a while since I have put up anything on my blog, and that is probably because I have been so busy that everything else has taken a back seat. This is a birthday invite that I had designed very excitedly for my own birthday party, most of which I cannot remember :P

My sketchbook has finally been digitized!

2011-06-21T23:05:00.000-07:00

For the full sketchbook click here

P.S I am still not home ;)

The International Diner

2011-05-06T00:56:00.000-07:00

I have been doing communication material for a restaurant called The International Diner, New Delhi, and some of it has turned out to be quite fun. The above is a flyer publicizes retro nights which take place at the restaurant every friday.

Making peace with myself

2010-10-14T11:19:00.000-07:00

I was working on a poster for my diploma project, and had lost a little anchor point somewhere, so decided to make my life easier by viewing everything in outlines. Instead, it just looked so complicated that for a second I wondered if the outlines should be my poster! After a few seconds, I decided that that would just be ridiculous and have made peace with myself by posting a screenshot on my blog instead.

Doesn't it look super cool?!

Who said an illustration has to have meaning?

2010-09-24T13:35:00.000-07:00

It often happens to me that I am intending on something, and instead something completely different emerges. Here is one such example... of course, I could force meaning into it, but this time I just want it to be a random illustration, and see what meaning, if any at all comes to people's minds when they see it. Do tell me what comes to your heads!

IF Star Gazing

2010-08-15T04:17:00.000-07:00

*to the stars and back*

IF Breakfast

2010-07-16T10:54:00.000-07:00

*That morning cup of tea*

Inspired by the visual language of the Indian matchboxes

An Illusory Feat

2010-06-23T04:35:00.000-07:00

A Request

2010-06-16T02:40:00.000-07:00

My youngest aunt got struck with a needle infected with Hepatitis C and AIDS while serving a patient in her residency years, and now after years of treatment, her second liver is also failing her. There is little you and I could do for help and that is to send a petition to the FDA to release a drug that could help her. Please visit the following link. It will only take a few minutes. Thank you.

Campaign for Compassion

www.telaprevir4nisha.com

The Suicide : a graphic novel

2010-04-06T06:11:00.000-07:00

IF: Expired

2010-03-23T00:56:00.000-07:00

*can't think no more*

Zeebelt : Views on the West Poster

2010-03-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

Views on the West Project- Zeebelt Theatre, Netherlands
In December 2009 over thirty interviews were conducted with young Indian call centre agents asking them about their impressions of Europe. These interviews were summarized in a ten minute audio edit which served as the assignment brief.

This poster is one of the 15 student posters displayed in the 'Views on the West' exhibition at the Zeebelt Theatre, Netherlands
see the winners here
see akshataa's poster here
see Uditi's poster here

2010-02-01T00:34:00.000-08:00

A casual take on the B.R.T road in Delhi, which though in construction and concept is really good organising traffic with separate lanes for buses, three and four wheelers, and two wheelers, fails in one key area : the numbers of cars heavily outnumber the buses and cycles which ends up in waste of space, and a perpetual traffic jam. P.S. Shiela Dixit is the Chief minister of Delhi.

doodle][bottles

2010-01-16T04:36:00.001-08:00

doodles from when packaging was all that was there on my mind

Magnify

2009-09-01T02:24:00.000-07:00

* to magnify the details of a letter*

Done for the girl who calls me baby alien, and her project on personalising the ubiquitous font helvetica.[Posted for illustration friday]

Caution

2009-08-27T02:24:00.000-07:00

an absurd sense of caution

*Illustration Friday*

Wrapped Up

2009-08-23T21:26:00.000-07:00

Another entry for impatience

2009-08-10T06:06:00.000-07:00

Impatient love?

If - Impatience

2009-08-10T05:36:00.000-07:00

*as the clock ticked by, the queue grew impatient*

done for illustration friday

The Axolotl (axo - law - tal)

2009-08-08T06:48:00.001-07:00

I got to know about Axolotls from a friend, and made an infographic on these creatures. This is just a fun adaptation of them.

The Last Resort

2009-08-04T01:07:00.000-07:00

Dinesh, or Dan as many called him, sat at the edge of a bed that creaked uncomfortably under his weight. The poorly furnished dormitory reeked of routine. One by one his eyes grazed all the sixteen beds, each covered in the same orange bed sheet, differentiated only by the blemishes and marks left behind by predecessors. A bird sang nonchalantly, a broken picture frame adorned the stark white wall and a lizard scuttled past seeking its prey.

Dan’s gaze rested on his own reflection in the glass of a window which was as insignificant as his own presence in the room. He could barely recognise himself. He hadn’t shaved for days, and had lost much of the weight that a well to do man often shows off as a status symbol. He tried to say something, but his voice cracked with lack of use. He thought of how things had changed since the last three months.

He clearly remembered that joyful sunny afternoon which had changed his life completely. The office boy had knocked timidly, coming in with a cup of black coffee, shaking at the very sight of him. Dan relished the fact that only a few could take its bitterness. “S-s-sir,” the boy quickly put the coffee on the table, waiting for his next order. Dan took a sip, looking up at the boy with sheer disgust. His coffee had sugar. Dan smashed the cup on the floor, the glass shattering into a million pieces. Muttering an obscenity he hollered, “YOU! Don’t you know I have my coffee without sugar? Get out! I said GET OUT!” The boy stood there frozen, unable to move. Dan held him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him out of his office. He seethed with rage.

After a while he smiled. He drew insatiable pleasure from power. He dialled his secretary’s number and waited. “You, fire that good for nothing office boy, and bring in the days mail.” A minute later his secretary walked in warily and handed over a letter. Looking paler than usual, she hastily handed over a single letter and left. It was the government’s seal on the envelope that caught his attention…

“Mr. Dinesh Shah?” the mention of his name brought him back to the sordid dormitory. Wistful of his previous life, he chose not to respond. The woman in a stark white uniform repeated his name again. He ignored her. Unconcerned she went on, “Mr. Shah, there is another hour left before your appointment is due. You can rest till then. There will be no need to venture outside your dormitory as yet.” She kept a glass of normal coffee on the side table and walked out without another word. He bit back a retort.

He could do this. He told himself. There was no need to be scared. Nothing was lost, yet. His thoughts drew him back to that letter, the repercussions of which brought him here. The letter had mechanically stated that with the death of his aunt, Mrs. Indira Shah, his property was under the ownership of the government and his business would thereby have to shut down unless he bought it off the government. His property was worth six crores.

Dan cursed his dead aunt who had died a month ago, under whose name he had originally bought the premises and started the business so that he could enjoy a generous rebate on income tax. He had never bothered to get himself acquainted with government regulations since he found them unnecessarily complicated and the possibilities of the acquisition of his entire wealth had not struck him. So much so, he had not even considered getting his aunt to write a will. He had simply forgotten the fact that the property was not really his in the eyes of law.

There was no way a bank would loan him such a huge amount, and a court appeal could take years to materialise. Most of his money was spent in a business transaction the proceeds of which would now be lost with his business shutting down.
Over the next one month he braced himself to collect cash, but everyone turned their back to him. His ego and the need to control had lost him his friends, and he was slowly losing himself too. Due to recession, there were no jobs available. There was little money left after he packed up his business. He sold his house, and moved to a much smaller apartment. He had collected just about enough money to survive a few years but it was not enough. A few days after his premises were acquired, Dan disappeared…

The Asylum for Special People was situated in the suburbs of Panipat, a small town in Haryana. Funded fully by the government it took care of anyone who showed signs of retardation or derangement. Dinesh Shah was their latest patient. He had been brought in by a local shopkeeper, who reported that the man was screaming at an electricity pole, claiming that it was his office boy who had brought him coffee with sugar. When he tried to pull him away, he got violent. With difficulty the shopkeeper managed to bring him to the asylum.

The Asylum was poorly furnished but clean. Dan sat at the edge of his bed, waiting. It was his new home for the next seven years. He allowed himself a smile. He had taken care of his life for the time being. The plan was going well. He was in control and most importantly he was not mad. He simple had to wait for his fixed deposit investment to double up and he could get out of this hell. It was the only way out, and he was ready for it…

___________________________________________________________________

Dan couldn’t move. It had been six years of madness, and he could no longer differentiate between logic and insanity. “I have to be brave”, he told himself. He felt a cold hand touch his ankle. “STOP! STOP imagining things that don’t exist!” He trembled at the thought of that medicine being forced down his throat every day for six unbearable years. He tried to behave like a sane man, but no one believed him. He spoke to himself as he often did, “It is just the effect of the medicine, it will all go away… no one can ever take possession of my life.” The words had lost connection with meaning. His reverberating thoughts of empty optimism only emphasised the sinking feeling that a nightmare had turned into plain, stark reality.

IF - shaking

2009-07-08T22:24:00.000-07:00

IF - Worn

2009-06-30T22:53:00.001-07:00

*to keep or not to keep*

worn for illustration friday

IF - drifting

2009-06-24T23:47:00.000-07:00

*if it were to drift like a feather*

zooming in

2009-06-10T23:03:00.000-07:00

The bird has a grooved outline which I later realised could not be seen, so I have just zoomed in.

IF - Craving

2009-06-07T10:29:00.001-07:00

*independence*

IF- Adapt

2009-06-04T05:41:00.000-07:00

A series of characters developed inspired from an egg. It can be put as the robot that is an adaptation on an egg. I have used this character as a mascot for a kids clothing identity.

IF - cracked

2009-05-29T08:53:00.000-07:00

late entry, its the self portrait of a crack pot :)

*sargam*

IF - Contagious; Memories can too be contagious

2009-05-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

This week's theme has been rather interesting, considering the fact that I myself fell ill and got a nasty fever from a friend. When I started thinking about what I could do with the word contagious, I wanted to it along the lines of a particular art movement, because they can be contagious in the sense that they everybody gets influenced by them.

My plan of action changed because of a few surprises in my life, that led me to think of my school life, and it was almost like those memories were contagious. This illustration therefore is a more personal depiction and rather abstract.

IF- Parade; I follow the red flag

2009-05-14T23:02:00.000-07:00

Have tried to take out more time than last week... :)
It is a parade of auto rickshaws!

IF - Hierarchy

2009-05-08T03:27:00.000-07:00

I have been busy, so this is just a rough version. I thought this would be an interesting way to represent hierarchy.

The Valiant and the Audience - Theatre

2009-04-30T04:45:00.000-07:00

"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once."

It is one of my favourites by William Shakepeare in his tragedy Julius Caesar. I have experimented with decontextualising the illustration. Another version in another context is right below.

One of the major aspects of theatre is the audience, because without them, there can be no theatre. The line is concocted by me itself.

Done for illustration Friday, this week’s theme being theatre.

Plakstil Inspired - Babolat

2009-04-30T04:22:00.000-07:00

A poster inspired from the German Poster Style - plakatstil

The Plakatstil Poster Style, examples

Oblivion - a poem on the theme of borders

2009-04-30T04:17:00.000-07:00

A soft thud

That went unheard.

A gentle pat on the shoulder

That was left ignored.

She watched the night sky

Feeling way too small,

Not realizing even once

That her name was being called.

Her mind was her world.

Her thoughts, a never ending train.

She thought people were complicated,

People thought she was insane.

Snapping out of her reverie,

She caught hold of a few words.

“Special school” was amongst them,

The rest unstrung and unheard.

She started screaming.

She was forced to stand.

She yelled, she groaned,

Someone grabbed hold of her hand.

Just for a brief moment,

She had left the boundaries of her world.

It left her confused and bewildered.

It made her head swirl.

She was led to her room.

She lay down in her bed.

She didn’t comprehend human beings,

They filled her with dread.

She closed her eyes,

Listening to the ceiling fan.

She liked it when she was left alone.

She wondered why they couldn’t understand.

Her world was that of oblivion

In which she was happy and content.

She was abnormal, but she was special,

And that made all the difference.

2009-04-30T04:00:00.000-07:00

This illustration stresses on two aspects of me, the playful side and the serious side. It is for that reason that the composition is shaped as a L; to show the transformation. (view it full size, it will make more sense :))

Feluda

2009-04-30T03:53:00.001-07:00

An illustration on an excerpt from Feluda. It was about a discussion between Feluda and his friend on geometry and its significance outside.

Illustrations on Cloth

2009-04-30T03:45:00.000-07:00

These are a few illustrations done on cloth, illustrating a poem written keeping in mind a five year old child. These were stitched together to make a quilt.

Wind Up Bird - the true story

2009-04-30T03:23:00.000-07:00

I lay in bed, thinking. The train of thoughts did not have a particular direction, and the thoughts were simply rambling and hopping from one thought to the other. I was making a tremendous effort to divert my mind from the pain that was swelling up in my legs, but ironically, the more effort I put in to be away from it, the more attention I gave to that pain.

It was difficult to fall asleep, but I felt too languid to get out of bed either. In the dead of the night, everything was so quiet, that even silence was deafening. And in the midst of this deafening silence, I heard a deafening cry. The sound seemed to have amplified manifold in the night. It was loud, yet it was so short that I thought I had imagined it. I think the sound came from a bird. It had a faint melody to it, yet it was the harshest sound I had ever heard.

For a long time I strained my ears to get another hint of the sound. I felt its alien presence right outside the room, in the garden. I heard the cry in the distance again but it was too soft. It was 3:30 a.m. The uncanny cry of the unknown bird was reverberated in my ears. I lay awake for a long time, my senses alert, hoping to hear that voice once again over the monotonous drone of the fan.

The bird had successfully diverted my mind from my leg ache. I kept thinking about that voice. Why this was important, I do not know. Though I was sure that sound was wound up just for me. I knew it carried an unknown message that I had to decipher. It was a sign… but of what? I looked out of the window, gazing at the shadows of the moon lit trees. They didn’t answer those questions for me, yet I felt I knew.

Just as I was slipping into the long sought for sleep, tired of rebounding thoughts, I christened the sound, which I knew would haunt me for times to come, as the cry of the wind-up bird.

Postcards

2009-04-30T02:42:00.000-07:00

These are a set of postcards with the aim of bringing about an awareness of Hindi idioms and proverbs

Pen sketch

2009-04-30T02:40:00.000-07:00

Vegetables

2009-04-30T02:28:00.000-07:00

Hard Rock Cafe - Bengaluru

2009-04-30T02:25:00.001-07:00

Pencil Shading

2009-04-30T02:23:00.001-07:00

Cards

2009-04-30T02:22:00.000-07:00

Collage

2009-04-30T02:16:00.000-07:00

Unbearable heat in May - Editorial

2009-04-30T02:04:00.000-07:00

music video : VOICE by pentagram

2007-03-13T00:36:00.000-07:00

Hey guys..
I had quite an extraordinary weekend and I thought I would share it with you all.
It was one of those rare weeks in Srishti when we did not have any work as such, and almost all my friends had made plans to go back home. I tried to plan a trip for myself, but many times things don’t work out the way you want them to… and same was the case with me!
So a few of us who had nothing to do over the weekend decided on making a music video for the song voice by pentagram. You must have seen the advertisements on VH1..
We were five of us.. I know you don’t know any of them but I will name them nonetheless…
Mana, akshataa, karno, kavya and me.

Day 1:
Saturday, 17th feb, 07
We decided the story line… we were going to amalgamate 3 different stories which revolved around a misfit school girl, a coconut wala, and a young wife.
The base idea had an undertone of a cliché story… but we were proud to be the young budding designers of India and were sure that we would be able to shoot it in such a way that it looked good! U see…the most boring idea can be made to look amazing if u just know how to out it across..!

Mana akshataa and I went off to the city to look for the coconut wala and school uniforms. Eventually we realized that a coconut guy wouldn’t be fit for the role and started hunted for other vendors… from tea selling men to men selling slippers in a kiosk, we talked to everyone, took their numbers and tried to figure out who would befit the role.
The role was simple. The vendor had to simply show frustration, shut down his shop and then walk home and bang into this guy playing music and start dancing there! Finally we found a “hot n spicy” corn selling guy who befitted the role perfectly!

Step number 2: look for school kids from whom we could borrow uniforms. We went from café to café, group to group but to no avail. Bangalore school kids seemed to us like these big time nerds who never stepped out of their houses on a Saturday evening.
Eventually sneha sikand who was also to play a part in the video came to our rescue and arranged for a few pairs of uniforms. Hurray..the job was done… and with our stomachs rumbling and thoughts not going beyond cheese cakes…we succumbed and went off for dessert to this lavish place called spiga. Of course after dessert came a full fledged meal but nonetheless…
All arrangements were done… and the next day was bound to be an action packed day! And…it definitely was.

Day 2
18th feb 2007
THE 3 us spent the night in mana’s house since getting back to our pg at night would be highly unsafe. We woke up early, and carrying all our delicate equipment and a massive boom box, we set out for mg road, where the “film crew” was due to meet.
The first scene we shot was that of the corn guy. As he was going to start dancing in the middle of the mg road pavement with passersby filtering through, one of my friends said to me… “SARGAM GO AND JOIN HIM…HURRRRRY!!!” taken aback and yet afraid of the aspect of dancing in the middle of a public crowd, I trusted my “spur of the moment” instinct shunning all thoughts of embarrassment and walked right on, stopped, danced with the corn guy whose name is annappa and then walked on…

It seemed as if I had accomplished something that time. Usually it is only the first step that is difficult… and there I was…who had danced in front of an entire crowd of unknown people! It was brilliant!!!!! And for all those who don’t know I am highly uncoordinated when it comes to dancing ok!

Of course that wasn’t the end of it was it? No!!!
Later we found ourselves donning the uniforms that we had borrowed…. Skirts and shirts.. ahem… I am not used to that!!!! There we were, running around mg road in school uniforms on a Sunday afternoon… shot the necessary shots and moved on to the next part of our story…
SNEHA SIKAND

What sneha had to do was something that mana and I had tried the day before… run on the mg road pavement
She had to get off at a traffic signal and run…
Simply run…. She ran the length of the mg road and a few more here and there…
What is so amazing about it is that we aren’t the daring extroverts who can go ahead and do whatever we want and whenever. Both sneha and me, could possibly not imagine ourselves doing this kind of a thing. Talking about it is easy… and as for the action part of it… the first step is difficult! Very difficult… that day something drove us on. Perhaps it was our group or whatever… in the end of it all… none of us were embarrassed of nething at all… we felt wholeheartedly proud of what we did and didn’t care if the video didn’t work out..(Which we realized later on watching tht it didn’t!)

In the end…. The psycho things that we did…finally got into us this mad desire to do something weird and well… we thought we just collect random public and dance our asses off on mg road…
We spoke to policemen….and got permission. Got these random ppl and well…danced…simply danced on the streets of Bangalore…asking ppl to join in…
Though we had a party and had fun doing what we did, doing something totally wacko something that we would never even dream of doing normally….
There was one thing that we found strange. None of the people we asked joined us… none… there wasn’t neone in the streets who even acknowledged that something was going on….so is that what “public” is all about? Not opening its eyes to what is going around in the world? Are we going to turn a blind eye to everything that doesn’t concern us? Are we ashamed of being a part of something that is done solely for the purpose of fun and doing something that is weird and not normal??
With these questions echoing in our minds, we dispersed that day, happy and proud pf what we had done and sadly wondering the inevitable question…why.

2007-03-02T01:29:00.000-08:00

MASQUERADE

Taking a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror, she assured herself that she couldn't have been dressed more impeccably. She turned to look at an invitation to a masquerade which she had received the week before. The emerald green ink on the yellowed parchment glistened in the candle light as she reread the invitation for the umpteenth time. However, it was not the handwritten message giving details of the venue that interested her. It was the tiny scrawl in the corner of the invitation card that caused her heart to melt every time she read the message.
The note was written by the handsome Ian Dunross whom she had met just a week earlier. She was ambling down the market place when a sudden breeze carried her kerchief away. She'd looked for it everywhere when suddenly she'd found herself staring into the eyes of a man; a man whose gaze she could get lost in, whose glance caused her heart to burst into flames. They looked at one another for a while when suddenly he laughed and said, "Oh! T'is silly of me, I must learn not to let my thoughts wander. It's not like me to lose sense and stability when confronted by such an apparition," and with that he held out her handkerchief, which she took with trembling hands." Ian Dunross m'lady," he introduced himself and with the swish of his tailcoat he had disappeared into the throng, leaving her aghast in the middle of the market. As she stepped out of her reverie, she noticed people glancing at her sideways with strange expressions. She wondered why…
Back in the dressing room, she smiled at the thought of him. Dressed in a dazzling, sequin spangled gown, she held her silver mask beside her as she made her way to the Hampton mansion. The trees rustled in the winds as her coach picked up speed. Every passing moment brought her closer to him, every passing moment made her stomach rise and fall in anticipation. The carriage gradually began to slow down until it came to a complete standstill.
"Why have we stopped?" she questioned the coachman. "We can't go no further m'lady. Road's too narrow and dark.' She could imagine the peril that might lie ahead but her determination to make it to the masquerade overpowered her fear. Carefully, she alighted from the carriage.
The cold night air seemed to hold within itself something strange and mysterious. The moon looked like a silvery orb partially hidden behind the fleecy clouds. Careful not to tear her gown, she slowed down her pace. The sound of her footsteps, mingling with the rustling of leaves echoed into the night.
Slowly and steadily, she tread the narrow winding path, her heart aching to catch a glimpse of that handsome face, who was now very much a part of her dream world. With every step she took ahead, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered with greater zeal. After a while, the path became wider and she reached a clearing. There, 200 yards away, stood the beautiful mansion, with its turrets gleaming in the moonlight.
Tinkling laughter and the clinking of wine glasses welcomed her as she reached the entrance of the ballroom. The doors were opened and a glittering wave of magnificence greeted her eyes. Men and women walked about a sparkling marble ballroom, the men in their best and women, their finest. Their costumes dazzled and gleamed under the luminous crystal chandeliers that swung ever so lightly with the orchestra that played toward her far right. But through all the gaiety there was an undertone of mystery as masked faces swirled in front of her like a sea filled with the unknown. A pang in her heart made her wonder, how would she ever find him.
Her heart beating faster, she approached the person nearest to her. He was a short stout man, who wore a deep red coat. "Pardon me, dear sir, but will you please be kind enough to tell me as to where I would find Sir Dunross?" even though the man's face was concealed behind a mask, the bewilderment in his eyes was unmistakable. "I fear there has been a misunderstanding m'lady. I doubt there is anyone by that name here." Mumbling an inaudible word of thanks, she reassured herself that he may have not known the man, but then, how could he not? It struck her as strange.
She walked to a pair of frivolous young women. On being asked about the young man, they answered. "Sir Dunross? How is it that we haven't met him as yet?" Mortified, she walked away. She asked several people, but none were even remotely familiar with the name. "Where could he be?" the question reverberated in her mind. She looked at the sea of colourful masks despair surging through her veins. The happy chatter now sounded like cacophony to her ears. She walked to an inconspicuous corner of the ballroom, her delicate hands covering her face.
And then, the soft music was drowned by the chord of the organ, bass, resounding just like the voice that suddenly spoke in her ear. "A rose for the lady whose beauty has yet not been surpassed." She looked up to find a pair of steel blue eyes gazing at her intently. Too irate to say anything, she broke into a silent sob. Ian put his arm around her and said, "would you accompany me upstairs to the terrace?" Without waiting for a reply he turned around and she found herself following him. As they walked across the dance floor, she narrated to him the conversations she had had with the short man and the others. Ian listened to her silently, looking grave. Meanwhile, she could not help but notice, that yet again, she was attracting odd glances from everyone around her…
An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. They were both standing alone on the terrace. She looked at him in anticipation. Something about his demeanour struck her as odd. Everything was silent, but for the eerie tones of organ that drifted through the cool night air.
Finally he broke the silence. "m' dear lady, when I first gazed into your eyes, I found myself plunging into a beauty so strong that hath made me lose all sense of time and peace. Feelings which I thought I was incapable of sensing surged through me all over again. Those things that I had thought lost, those things which I thought never to come back again, to feel, to smell, to hear, to touch and to love, you made me long for them, you made me crave for them…"
"Did it not occur to you why people cast curious glances at you every time we were together? It was so because I am alive only in spirit. I am a ghost, fair lady… a drifter looking for a companion with whom I would be able to sense what it would be like to live again, to love again."
He looked at her through his silvery eyes and sighed. His voice devoid of all hope he said, "You could leave me and turn away from me right now. I leave it all to you…"
An unwarranted desire began to envelop her mind. Under the moon, she stood holding his hands. She was in the company of a ghost. She was in love with someone who belonged to a completely different and unknown world. It was life itself that separated her from him, but she didn't care. She had stopped caring from the moment she'd met him in the market place, from the moment she'd set eyes upon the emerald ink. She did not know what held in store for her if she decided to be with him but the hope for a change from her tedious life shone upon her and trusting her instincts she whispered, "Yes…"
Her feet had left the ground, she was in his arms and she felt the life drain out of her. Smiling, she first looked into his eyes, and then her body which she had left far behind.