“It’s very dark,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” she said, nodding.

They were walking along a dark street. The hour was late, and the street was deserted except for them. Large bungalows loomed ominously on either side. He thought the black shapes looked merciless, like some people he knew. Streetlights, blacked out because of the expected bombing, cast huge oval shadows on the uneven pavement. Occasionally, they passed by a bomb shelter or piles of crushed stone next to unfinished trenches. Even the night air appeared frozen as if it has sensed the impending danger.

“Where does this street go?”

“Where else…” he said. His hand reached into his trouser pocket and came out empty. “Sometimes, darkness feels nice.”

“Yes.”

After walking silently for a few minutes, he asked, “Can you speak English?”

“Yes.”

“Did your husband go to school?”

“He has a bachelor’s, like me.”

“How could he leave you alone?” he asked as he looked at the shadows.

“What else could he do?”

“Isn’t it hard?”

“Should it be?” she said. He sensed a sadness in her voice.

“You may be right…” his voice trailed off, uncertainly. Once more his hand reached into his trouser pocket and came out empty.

“One can’t see anything in the dark,” he said with a strange satisfaction in his voice, as if he was grateful.

“No, I think things actually get sharper in the dark, even scary,” she replied after a brief pause. There was a kind of conviction in her voice.

“How do you mean?”

“Our thoughts…our miseries…”

He didn’t look convinced. Changing the subject, he said, “Calcutta is a big place.”

She did not respond.

He reached into his pocket again. “This road looks endless,” he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She nodded. They walked in silence for a few more minutes.

A large truck with bright headlights roared by them, narrowly missing her. She instinctively darted to her side and bumped lightly into him.

“Rude,” she said as she quickly moved back and steadied herself.

“Army lorry,” he said, as if it explained the incident.

“Do you think war will come?”

 “What do you mean ‘will come’! It’s raging out there.”

“I mean to our country.”

“I don’t know,” he demurred.

A firefly landed briefly on her dark bangs and flew away.

They came to a railway crossing. There was no guard in sight, but a few steps from the tracks they saw two dogs sleeping soundly. The night was quiet.

“What are you thinking about,” he asked her after they walked a few minutes past the crossing.

“Nothing,” she said as if waking from a deep reverie.

“Really?”

“I said so, didn’t I,” she snapped back a little indignantly.

He was surprised, as he thought to himself, ‘There’s so much to think about – the news, magazines, Hitler, war, the bombing sorties, the big city, me, her.’ His hand reached into his pocket once again and came up empty.

“Where is your husband now?”

“Egypt.”

“I am sorry.”

“Why?”

“Why did he enlist?”

“Why did you?” she shot back.

“But I am still in this country.”

“So?”

He stopped and stood still, gazing at the tram tracks as they disappeared in the distance. After a long pause he replied, “I had no choice. I had no money, had no job although I had a master’s, and then my wife passes away. I didn’t know what else to do…”

She noticed he had stopped walking, turned around and said, “Why did you stop walking?”

“I forgot what I was doing,” he said as he brushed back his hair with and they resumed walking.

“Why did your wife die?”

“Because she loved me.”

She was confused. “When did you get married?”

“We never did,” he said a little awkwardly.

“I don’t understand!”

“We fell in love while we were in college. We wanted to marry, but our families didn’t like the idea. Different castes, you see…So we eloped. We ended up in Nagpur in search of jobs. Over there, we took part in the Independence protests and were arrested. We both caught malaria while we were in jail. They let us go, but she died a few days later because of a lack of treatment.”

“Why didn’t she get treatment?”

“We couldn’t afford it…”

“My god!” she said and was silent.

They walked quietly for a little longer after that exchange. The bright star they had noticed earlier was now covered up by a big puffy cloud. They came across an Anglo-Indian couple. They appeared to be drunk and were staggering along supporting each other.

Perhaps prompted by that sight, he asked her, “Have you read The Shape of Things to Come?”

“I don’t like Wells so much,” she replied.

“An interesting book…he talks about war and the walking dead in it. Perhaps we have caught it, you think? I mean that walking dead disease?” He started to laugh but stopped short as he quickly decided it wasn’t that funny after all.

She didn’t react to that, but she said, “My maternal uncle died of complications from TB.”

“He did the right thing.” Then he added, “Is that why you chose nursing?”

“Perhaps,” she said. After a pause, she added, “I worked in a hospital after that.”

“And?”

“There was this patient who was admitted one day while I was on duty. Perhaps because of that he liked me very much. I remember, he had these sad puppy eyes. He wouldn’t accept his medicine from anyone but me.”

“….”

“I liked him too,” she continued, “He reminded me of my husband in Egypt. I used to think maybe if I took care of that man, someone in Egypt would return the favour.”

“Then what happened?”

“I quit that job.”

“Whatever for?”

“That man died.”

He sighed.

They overheard a beggar on the sidewalk screaming in his sleep as they approached a bomb shelter. He thought about his own nightmares. As if to escape the thought he wondered aloud, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere unreachable.”

“You speak Telugu very well!”

She smiled and added, “I always failed in the exams though.”

He chuckled. “So why did you enlist in the army?”

“When I didn’t get any news from Egypt for a long time, I started to worry…”

“…”

“…later, I heard that he got shot through the shoulder.”

“Oh, no!” he felt sorry.

“That was the last time I had any news from there. I have no idea if he is still alive…”

As she pushed aside her bangs with a trembling hand, she continued, “…So I enlisted to get away from all that worrying and memories.”

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

“I believe so; when I am taking care of the wounded soldiers, my own pain doesn’t seem so important. And sometimes I think I may suddenly see my husband among them,” she said.

He didn’t know how to respond. He thought he saw a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. All he could manage was “It’s a nice night,” as he reached into his pocket once again and came out empty handed.

They were in a vast sandy area now. There were hundreds of tents pitched in the sand. They saw lamp light through doorways of some of the tents. The camp was eerily quiet. From somewhere in the middle of the camp, they heard a song…the tune was foreign but beautiful and poignant.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked him.

“It’s a Burmese refugee camp.”

“Shall we go visit?”

He nodded.

They made their way into the camp. Even at that hour, some residents were still awake. Small groups, some in pairs, were squatting on the ground in the space between the tents and talking in hushed tones. Flickering lamplight from the open doorways cast shadows that were swimming on the uneven sand.

She wondered aloud, “Do you think they are married,” hastily adding, “I mean the couples…”

“Could be, who can tell…” he said.

“I feel so bad for all these people; they had to leave their homeland and come all this way to a foreign country…”

He gritted his teeth and said, “Damn this war!”

The camp was chaotic. There were trenches and bomb shelters around the tents. They saw old men, women, and babies…stretched out on straw mats. She wondered if they were really sleeping. Once more he reached into his pocket.

In one of the tents, they saw a baby thrashing and screaming loudly. A man sleeping next to the baby angrily screamed. An older man on the other side picked up the baby and walked outside trying to pacify her. He started pacing back and forth as he sang a lullaby, but the baby kept crying.

“Why don’t you give her to her mother,” she suggested, speaking in English.

The old man looked at her blankly and, in broken English, he mustered, “This is my grandchild. My daughter died delivering her near the border in Assam. I have nothing here. No milk to feed her. She is too young to eat rice. Probably it’s best if she died too.”

She looked at the baby very sadly. As they moved on, she said, “It’s horrible! The baby looked extremely sick, with that swollen tummy and bulging veins…”

He did not respond, as he had nothing to add. She saw that he was gritting his teeth.

As they continued, she noticed that he looked a little bent over and having difficulty walking in the sand. Perhaps her husband was doing the same in the Egyptian desert.

They noticed a young couple walking towards them; they looked to be in their twenties or thirties. As soon as the young woman saw the man, she came running and stopped before him and started laughing loudly. There was a glint of happiness in her laugh, they thought. The young man quickly caught up to them and stood next to her looking apologetic. They were Burmese.

She asked the young man, “Why is she laughing?”

“She mistook him for Bama.”

The man asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Yuba, and this is Ama. We are refugees,” the young man replied. “Why are you here? Do you live in this camp?”

“No,” the man replied, “I am in the army.”

The girl said something in Burmese and the young man translated, “She is asking if you two are related?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “We are not related.”

The young woman again said something in Burmese, which Yuba didn’t bother to translate. “We are a bit tired and bored. Can we all sit down for a bit and chat?”

They found a small clearing nearby and sat down in the sand. All the while, Ama was mumbling incoherently and laughing.

The woman broke the silence, “Tell us about yourselves…are you two related? What is Ama’s story?”

Yuba was silent for a minute, as he gathered his thoughts. Then, with face still wrinkled, he said, “Bama was her brother. Suspecting that he was a Japanese spy, the British executed him. She doesn’t know that. Then the bombing started and in one of the raids their house was destroyed killing her grandmother. She was her only living relative. We fled the next day.” After a brief pause, he added, “And we have been close since then.”

The man continued, “What did you do in Burma before all this?”

Yuba’s face wrinkled again, as if he had trouble remembering. He said wistfully, “Me and my brothers were lumber traders. They were killed as well.”

She started to ask another question, but the man stopped her with a warning look.

Ama jumped up and ran after fireflies, trying to catch them.

After some silence, he said to Yuba, “Maybe you should try to find a job.”

“I have been thinking about joining the army.”

The man looked at her, expecting her to say something but saw that she was beginning to doze off. He gently touched her hand to wake her.

Her head jerked up and she mumbled an apology, “Sorry, didn’t realize I was sleepy…”

Yuba repeated, “Yes, I will definitely join the army,” as if he thought hard about the question in the meantime.

She picked up where the man had left off, “Army? They might send you away. What will Ama do then?”

The young man looked longingly at Ama playing with fireflies in the distance and said, “What can happen? Yes, she will cry for a while, but how long can we live in these tents without any basic necessities? All we do now is to reminisce all the time and cry. I don’t want to live in the past forever. I am sure Ama will meet a nice man and get married. I think that during times like this, one should be able to break relationships as quickly as one can form them. Don’t you agree?”

They heard Ama calling for Yuba. Her voice was very faint; they had not realized she had gone that far.

“Ama needs me, I have to go,” Yuba said as he got up and walked away briskly.

A minute later, they too got up and resumed their walk. As they passed by a big mound of sand, they saw Ama and Yuba lost to the world in a deep embrace.

The star that had been behind the cloud until now was no longer hidden. The sound of a police whistle floated over the night air from somewhere.

He suddenly realized that they were no longer inside the camp. In the sandy clearing, they saw palm trees and the wreckage of an army lorry. There were a few boulders under the trees.

He said looking around, “Looks like we are not inside the camp any longer. Let’s sit down and rest for a bit.”

They sat on one of the boulders.

After a while, he said, “Yuba is a strange man.”

She nodded, “I think so too.”

After a pause, he started to say something and stopped himself, “So…”

She looked at him and said, “What?”

“I was going to say something but forgot.” He inserted his hand in his pocket again.

She looked at him, but he stared silently at the dark sky. He looked very content. The tents cast long indefinite shadows on the sand. There was an odd quietness in the air.

After a few minutes, he suddenly burst out chuckling.

“What was that for?” There was a faint worry in her voice.

“I am not sure,” he said, as he inserted his hand in his pocket again and pulled it out.

“…”

Getting no response, he turned toward her and was shocked to see that she was sobbing silently. Tears were welling in her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying,” he asked as he looked at her. He heard a strange softness in his own voice.

She did not answer.

He moved closer to her and caressed her hair tenderly and flicked away the tears from her cheeks. Then he cradled her head in his hands and gently kissed her on the lips. She leaned over, resting her head on his chest.

“It feels much better here than all those nightmares every night.”

She nodded, digging her head deeper into his chest.

She felt his hand again reach for something in his pocket.

She mumbled, “Why do you keep doing that?”

A little embarrassed, he smiled and said, “I keep forgetting that I didn’t buy cigarettes today.”

The hug continued.

The sweet poignant foreign song they heard earlier was again wafting over the cool night air.

The city looked like a giant turtle cozily tucked inside his shell for the night.