Virendraani was sitting near the fire-place. It was 7 pm in the clock hung very carefully on the wall, at a height of 6 year old person. Was Virendraani 6 year old? No. Virendraani was a brown skin toned woman with polio in her 40’s. She possessed wavy long back-length hair, pitch black and silky, a long oval face, which was termed as “beautiful”, at the age of 4 by her Dad, whom Virendraani, always thought of as a ‘’too positive person’’. Not specially now, after living half a world away from him, rather since she turned 20 or 22. Virendraani couldn’t really remember her exact age when this happened, or maybe was it a process?
She pondered on this at times, mostly in latter parts of evenings, after handling her business that of getting herself up and ready in mornings, with ‘’expert help’’ provided by staff, selected by
The Basic Help For Wings To Fly agency. And thus she knew that she always thought of her Dad was too positive individual, and it was not after living in a building run by an up close and personal with the administrative staff of the Basic Help For Wings To Fly agency.
This agency, the Basic Help For Wings To Fly, was an agency composed of a “ready to mould and better that life in a wheel- chair” mindsets,
So Virendraani, re- evaluated her concluding thoughts, regarding, when her Dad’s being too positive person, got embossed on her conscious and subconscious, she thought now, that maybe was it a process of living by her 24/7, which turned her normal common dad into ‘’a too positive Dad’’, which now, turned her own self, into her own ‘’too positive Father’’, thought Virendraani.
Strangely each time she thought of the apartment she was allotted in Pennsylvania, she felt a jolt of thrill overtaking every negative thought within her brain, as the mere thought of living miles and miles away from her Dad and India itself was unbearably satisfying for her! And
thus Virendraani loved that old artistically built beautiful apartment building in Chestnut Hill, a suburb of Pennsylvania! Though it was a building easily accessible for wheelchairs/power chairs, even when in the thickest of Pennsylvanian snow falls, but was it built for individual human beings who were in those hand picked and custom made wheelchairs/power chairs, each hand picked for each different physical dis- ability?, often she thought.
Though many times, while contemplating on similar thoughts, she would drive near the small square broken rusted window with rusted brownish red window frame. As she would sit there, she always felt an enthused graciousness towards the window and its placement thinkers, as that window/its placement thinkers made it easy for her to get a full view of the beautiful outside scene scape.
Even today Virendrani set on a black leathered power wheel-chair, but her anxious look was fixed on the main door of her apartment. She looked at the door, her eyes had a strange mixture of an urge, a request, an intense urge, calmly harnessed by, and yet containing a strangely strained patience, somewhere inside them.
While sitting with that calmed harness intense urge, her face was not smiling nor expressing anything, it was just positioned to look at the door, calmly yet intently, as if it was requesting the door to make the sound of the key opening its lock!
And it happened! The sound of the key opening its lock!
The door was knocked light clear and politely before being opened. Virendraani’s heart pounded fast, with butter fly sensation in the left side of her stomach right under where a human heart is situated pounding.
The door opened, a woman, in loose fitted jeans white shirt, carelessly inserted in semi dark blue jeans and a thick jacket zipped up to her chest entered.
A chill runs through Vira’s body as the lock turns in the door.
The door opens. A woman dressed in rough looking jeans and a big shirt enters. The woman has a roundish dark skinned face. Her big black eyes look even prettier with a black mascara. Her big shirt
and her rough jeans give her a rough edge over her feminine look. But there was something specific inside the character of the women, not her dressing style, which got Vira turn head over heals for her. And Vira forgot all her anxiety over her dance steps, as she looked into those big black eyes.
Vira: (In a soft voice): Hi Cosina.
Cosina: (Standing a little away from Vira) : Hi. So, shall we dance a perfect dance?
Vira: (hurt angry) Can’t you forget the damn dance for a second? I’ve been waiting for you since…
Cosina: Forget the dance?? Then forget me.
Vira- in a desperate tone: Why? What’s so special…
Cosina: (cutting Vira off with a stern voice):Then forget me.
Vira looks scared, her face turns pale. She quickly changes her tone and her facial expression, to enthusiasm . She says in an enthusiastic tone:
Vira with forced enthusiastic tone: Yes, let’s dance!
As she speaks that sentence, she feels she has copied Rosevile’s enthusiasm.
Cosina turns on the music. Cosina starts dancing. Vira moves her body sitting in the wheel-chair.
After dancing for awhile, Cosina just happens to look in Vira’s eyes. Vira softly says
Vira (in a soft voice) I love you.
Cosina: (looking in Vira’s big pretty eyes): I know.
Vira (grabs the moment) Cant we be like everyone else. Can’t we forget this dancing thing? You know me since 8 years. I have loved you crazily. Why can’t you just tell that I’ll make you very happy and that the love is enough for us to go on, we can make a perfect couple, some such thing, it’s just the right thing, perfectly palpable cliched lines, for them.
Cosina: (jerking back, angrily in a frustrating tone) No. We can’t. You have to do this dance everyday,
they want you to be a perfect match for me when I perform on the stage.
Vira: (Trying hard to prove her point.) But I love you, I
Cosina: So? They want you to be a perfect match for me when we are out together.
Vira: (Angry tone) What perfect? I want to be your life partner, not your goddamn slave.
Cosina: (Surprised, yet angry) Well it is what it is. You have to dance and that too a perfect dance.
Vira is hurt. Suddenly a strange confidence spreads on her face. She looks straight into Cosina’s eyes. There is a strange calmness in her eyes.
Vira: (calm tone) O.K.
Cosina steps back. Her face has a strange fear on it as she looks at Vira’s calm and distant look.
Cosina: (In a gentle voice.) Tomorrow I’ll think of a new song and we can dance to it.
Cosina tries to look into Vira’s eyes
Vira still has the strange calmness in her eyes
Cosina’s face turns pale. She cheerfully says
Cosina: ( in a cheerful loving tone): Then we can chat.
Vira’s thoughts seem to be somewhere else. The softness which was there in her eyes has been replaced by a sense of indifference.
Cosina: (concerned look mixed with a strong sense of worry) I’ll definitely bring a new song tomorrow.
After we finish the dancing thing, we can chatt for a long time.
Cosina tries to look into Vira’s eyes. Vira’s look seems pretty distant.
Cosina tries to get Shall we do that?
Veera: (Still distant) O.K.
Vira drives her power-chair into the bedroom.
Cosina looks in silence at the disappearing power-chair. There is sadness in her eyes and on her face. She opens the door, and closes the door behind her.
Vira is in the bedroom, on her large sized bed with a small window situated right next to the bed, as if it was made for her.
Everything is just perfect, but… Vira thinks, the sadness in her eyes has turned into deathed calm.
It is next day’s 8:30yish of morning-
Virendraani is laying on her king sized brown coloured mettle framed cott, she bought in a hurry, from ebay.
She kept looking at the door, with the same impatient urge, that waiting for the door to get a knocking sound on it, that impatient which was felt by her, the previous day, as she was waiting for Cosina.
But as she lay in that soft comfy bed, she failed to feel an euphoric enthused graciousness towards the window and its placement thinkers, as that window/its placement thinkers made it easy for her to get a full view of the beautiful outside scene scape. Was Cosina too short, to reach and reignite that sense of euphoric enthused graciousness with a sited in a wheelchair romance?
And a flat knock woke her from her pondering thoughts. The flat knock, was heard on the door.
Door was opened.
Uma walked in.
Virendraani’s cerebral palsy’d body, was now being moved by jerks, owing to, or better still, thanks to, the emotional response of her body to Cosina’s non capability to match her, ‘’give a damn to the agency and ‘its shitty policy” attitude.
Virendraani cleverly started conversing, to maneuver her attitude, stuck and sort of lost amidst of a mouth, with muscles tensing, jerking and darting forward backward and anyward, through that tough mouth. Thus she started this conversing, in a laughing tone,
Vira: Uma you know what I was thinking? I never go out, I cant wear good cloths ever, so now I’ve decided I’ll wear good cloths at home. So no more p.j’s for me! You know you are not, NEVER a provider from the agency, you know me that much, right?
On hearing Vira, she said, in an enthusiastic tone
Uma: and for sure same here…
Uma a medium in height, fair in skin with brown skin tone, is in possession of straight, long, thick hair black in colour, like most Indians that she has thrown into casually tied bunball.
Uma herself is wearing a loose fitted off white and creamish coloured t-shirt with a round neck, loose fitted light lemon Green coloured cotton pants with a flair at the bottom, that cover up her Indian styled chappals wore in her feet.
The flared legged pants make it difficult for her chappals, to showoff their special mughal styled design or nakshikaam, as they call the minute design on shoes in Hydrabad her Home Town in India.
Uma continued enthusiastically: And for dressing…Umm..yeah, that’s a nice idea!
Vira looked satisfied, she had a broad smile, though her eyes were sad.
Vira looked at the clock on the wall. It read 6.
Vira: (Trying to cover a smile which suddenly appeared on her face as she looked at the time.)
Vira: Uma can you get me ready? It’s 6, You’ll be leaving soon isn’t it?
Uma: (In a respectful tone) yes most certainly I’m curious to see what will you chose to wear this evening…
Vira: You know what I was thinki..
The phone rings. Uma picks up the phone.
Uma: Hello..?
(Uma listens as the voice on the other end speaks. Vira looks intently as Uma listens.
Uma: Sorry you have the wrong number.
Uma listens
Uma: No,
Uma listens
Uma: No this is an Independent Living facility for challenged people.
Uma listens patiently
Uma: (Enthusiastically): No this is not a group home, this is an apartment facility for physicaly challenged people.
(Uma listens)
Uma: For adults with disability living independently
Uma: It is run by The Basic Help For Wings To Fly agency.
Uma- ( listening with a smile): You are welcome
(Uma listens)
Uma- (smilingly): No problem..
Uma- (positive calm and cheerful tone: You also have a nice day ahead
Uma hangs up the phone. Vira looks at her inquiringly
Uma- :(walking towards the bedroom along side Vira ) : They had the wrong number.
Vira: Whom did they want?
Uma: They wanted Basic Help’s For Wings To Fly agency’s group home office,
Vira- : (cheerfully): They to get wrong number like India?!
Uma: It must have so happened that instead of B.H.F.’s group home they must have gotten the number of B.H.F.’s independent apartment’s number. Marcy says it happens a lot, people call her office to talk to one of the resident client living in this building!
Vira- : (understandingly): Well, stuff happens.
Vira-: (her tone turns sad): after all I am one of their clients.
As she speaks, Vira drives her power-chair to the bedroom. Uma follows her. She goes to the closet and slides it open. Vira looks thoughtfully at each pair of cloths, tops and jeans. She points to a pair of skinny jeans. Uma picks it out. Smiles. Veera looks at her and is enthused at that smile. Vira then looks at the tops which are hanging next to the jeans. Uma follows her gaze, picks out the top on which Vira’s gaze sat.
Uma picks out a thin, cream coloured long sleeved T-shirt with a turtle neck-
As Uma follows Vira’s gaze, Uma’s face showcases a silent conniving smile, as if she has accomplished a treacherously satisfying mission.
Vira: (Happy and pleased on seeing a treacherously satisfying look in Uma’s eyes and on her face.
Vira- Do you think these two will go together?
Uma- showcasing zealous satisfaction: You have got it down! They’ll look fabulous on you!
Vira: (with a smile and a thrill in her voice) Thank you Uma! You know I’m fortunate to have you ..(Vira pauses. Her tone comes down. The thrill in her voice disappears, she hesitates.) as my staff.
Uma- (zealously satisfied) : Similar sentiments shared, .
(Vira looks at the clock. It reads 6:15)
Vira: Hey it’s 6:15, we got to hurry it up!
Uma: (looking curious. An expression always on her face.) Yeah, we better hurry up! Or..
Vira: (suddenly a serious expression spreads all over her face. It looks as if she is irritated by Uma’s curiosity) (Her voice raises a bit) Or what?
Uma: No nothing, just that I should get out at 6:30.
Vira: (Her irritation turns into a serious expression): Will they give you a notice?
Uma: (Putting on an expression of doubt): I don’t know.
Suddenly the expression changes on Uma’s face, as she speaks like she is talking to a child
Uma- With pretentious innocence: Can they fire me for that?
Vira: (Looks really irritated) : I don’t know.
The clock shows 6:20. Vira looks at the clock, turns her wheel-chair’s power button on. Vira drives out of the room. Uma follows her. They both enter the restroom. Uma changes Vira, off of her thick jeans and her polyester pink frilled top, into, her red and white dotted pj shirt and same print patterned pajama pants.
Vira drives out of the restroom. Uma follows her into the livingroom
Uma picks up her clothed hand bag, with Lakhnavi embroidery, that she had bought at a baazaar in Hydrabad, when she visited her home town, a year ago, after saving her pay checks given to her every month, from B.F.W.F.Agency (Basic Help’s For Wings To Fly agency.)
She picked that same hand bag, with delicate Lakhnavi embroidery, from the side of the couch, in the living room, of the apartment in Pennsylvania.
Uma: O.K. Vira, I’ll get going.
Vira: ( with urgency looking scared): But today’s tip?
Uma’s back is towards Vira. Suddenly she unwinds her bunned hair, all of it falls down on her shoulder. She turns, faces Vira. There is a brightness on her face. She looks almost devious for a moment, as she performs a sensuous dance step in front of Vira. Vira watches her carefully, intently following her body movement.
Vira looks a bit worried, her self confidence disappears
Vira speaking very humbly as Uma completes her dance.
Vira: Will I be able to do all of that?
Vira tries to memorize the steps as she asks this looking at her own practicing self.
Uma, suddenly speaks devilish expressive eyes while picking up her bag-pack which she flung down on the floor when she started to demonstrate the dance steps.
Uma, with a sad devilish smile : Ah! The steps seem too complicated?
Vira looking at the sad devilish smile, seems to acquire new enthusiasm on her face.
Vira: No no, not at all, I can do this.
Uma: Alrighty, I’ll roll out now. See you tomorrow.
Vira: (her eyes show a whole lot of affection as she speaks) O.K. Uma, go home safely.
Uma walks out of the door. Vira drives near the fire-place. She looks intently at the door.
Vira practices the dance steps that Uma had shown her. There is tension on her face as the clock moves forward. As the time passes by the tension grows deep on her face. In Between a smile creeps on
her face as she looks at the clock and the door. But the smile vanishes as Vira, sitting on her wheel-chair, tries hard to perfect those dance movements.
The wall clock shows 9:20, Vira looks at the clock. A chill runs through Vira’s body as the lock turns in the door.
The door opens. A woman dressed in rough looking jeans and a big shirt enters. The woman has a roundish dark skinned face. Her big black eyes look even prettier with a black mascara. Her big shirt and her rough jeans give her a rough edge over her feminine look. The blend got Vira turn head over heals for this woman. And Vira forgot all her anxiety over her dance steps, as she looked into those big black eyes).
Vira: (In a soft voice): Hi Cosina.
Cosina: (Standing a little away from Vira: Hi. So, shall we dance?
Vira: (hurt angry) Can’t you forget the damn dance for a second? I’ve been waiting for you since…
Cosina: Forget the dance? Then forget me.
Vira: (Desperate) Why? What’s so special…
Cosina: (cutting her off, in a stern voice):Then forget me.
Vira looks scared. Her face turns pale. She quickly changes her tone and her facial expression. She says in an enthusiastic tone: Yes, let’s dance!
(As she speaks that sentence, she feels she has copied Uma’s enthusiasm.)
(Cosina turns on the music. Cosina starts dancing. Vira moves her body sitting in the wheel-chair.)
After dancing for awhile, Cosina just happens to look in Vira’s eyes.
Vira softly says)
Vira (in a soft voice) I love you.
Cosina: (looking in Vira’s big pretty eyes): I know.
Vira (grabs the moment) Cant we be like everyone else. Can’t we forget this dancing thing? You know me since 8 years. I have loved you crazily. I’ll make you very happy. The love is enough for us to go on. We can make a perfect couple.
Cosina: (jerking back, angrily in a frustrating tone) No. We can’t. You have to do this dance everyday,
they want you to be a perfect match for me when I perform on the stage.
Vira: (Trying hard to prove her point.) But I love you, I
Cosina: So? They want you to be a perfect match for me in all of your behavior when we are outside.
Vira: (Angry tone) What perfect? I want to be your life partner, not your goddamn slave.
Cosina: (In a slight surprised, yet angry tone) Well it is what it is. You have to dance and that too a perfect dance and be perfect in your social behavior as my spouse.
Vira is hurt. Suddenly a strange confidence spreads on her face. She looks straight into Cosina’s eyes. There is a strange firm calmness in her eyes.
Vira: (calm tone) O.K.
Cosina steps back. Her face has a strange fear on it as she looks at Vira’s calm and distant look.
Cosina: (In a gentle voice.) Tomorrow I’ll think of a new song and we can dance to it.
Cosina, on instinctively realising something, tries to look into Vira’s eyes
Vira doesn’t change the look, the one of strange calmness in her eyes
Cosina’s face turns pale. She cheerfully says
Cosina: ( in a cheerful loving tone): Then we can chat.
Vira’s thoughts seem to be somewhere else. The softness which was there in her strange calmness within her eyes, has been replaced by a
sense of indifference
Cosina: (with a concerned look mixed in a strong sense of worry) I’ll definitely bring a new song tomorrow. After we finish the dancing thing, we can chat for a long time
Cosina: For as much time as you want
Cosina: Ey you know this is their supervised apartment building, we can’t do anything even if I want to…
Cosina tries to look into Vira’s eyes. Vira’s look seems pretty distant.
Cosina tries to get Vira’s attention
Cosina- softness in voice: Shall we do that?
Veera: (Still distant) O.K.
Vira drives her power-chair into the bedroom.
Cosina looks in silence at the disappearing power-chair. There is sadness in her eyes and on her face. She opens the door, and closes the door behind her.
It is next morning’s 8:30
Virendraani is laying on her king sized brown coloured mettle framed cott from ebay.
And she has that same impatient urge that of waiting, accompanied this time, by a striking yet deep seated sadness. The roots of which grew from sadness for, and yet, the pure anger at Cosina. In fact, that pure anger, it was not even at Cosina, rather it was anger or, what could be better recognized as irritation, on Cozina’s inability to have that mere level of maturity. That shear maturity, which would have shove everything aside, when required, to protect not herself nor Cozina, but the ‘’themness’’, within their relationship.
Amidst all of these thoughts, Virendraani could heard the turning of
the key in the door knob and the squeaking of the door hinges. That turning of the knob brought warmth, on Virendraani’s cold face,
grown so cold, due either, to the November snow drizzling in, on the ground or to the sudden unmasking, of Cozina’s zestful love, which when unmasked, appeared faded.
The sound of footsteps going towards the couch, a russell of plastic being put near the couch, were being heard and decoded, by just woke brain, of Virendraani. And it suddenly crack brock the slow wriggling melancholied sadness, bursted it, cleared the vapour of vagueness and thus dumped a deep sadness right in front of her. Virendraani, seemed deeply sad, for a moment or two, and it vanished as a sun from a night sky.
And entered Uma.
As she entered the bedroom, being a staff at B.F.W.F.Agency (Basic Help’s For Wings To Fly), and based on Virendraani’s stiff body, Uma could decipher that Virendraani had spent a tough night.
Uma- overtly affectionate body language and loving tone: What happened?? Quarreled?
Virendraani showcasing a subtle shrewdity wrapped within child like helplessness
Virendraani in almost utter childishness: See what she did? Left me…
Uma stays silent
Virendraani- in artificial tragic tone: and how!!
Uma-showing disbelievable belief:
Uma in loving disbelief: She couldn’t handle your chair? Didn’t want to handle the chair? Or was simply jerking away?
Vira: All of that,
Uma- showcasing sever hate: Jerk…
Virendraani: So,..and then…you’d say??
Uma: So I’d say yes.
A reader from Sion Mumbai Indian: Really? Can this happen there, in U.S.? I…have no ide…maybe!?? Naa…just a master story cooker!
Still Dead 
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