Boulevard of Fantasies : Part 5

You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.



Outside the amber-lit Churchgate Station, she was seen guzzling pineapple milk at the homely Aarey booth. Sarah belonged to the ‘Aarey or Nothing’ clan. There were causes she felt strongly for. Loyalty towards the Energee brand was amongst them. She felt the yellow lacteal river caress her oesophagus on its way down. I said “Good Lord! She truly lives…”

I saw the unmistakable jaunt in her every step. And she found beauty in monotony. But then for Sarah, monotonous was merely a word on page 410 of the Oxford Dictionary. She lightened as her mind enlightened. (monotonous: lacking in variety, tedious through sameness)

Insignificant Bobu, in the meantime, popped a question?

Sarah Di – How does the sun affect weight? -> Sarah’s repartee – It makes the daylight. Cackles of laughter drew obnoxious scowls. "Mumbai loves to evade innocence", I thought to myself. Alas. For the city sought bliss in transient indulgences. Laughter was above deciduous happiness.

Amidst orange echoes at CST, they hooligoned their way onto the 7.47 Andheri Slow. Familiar perspiration greeted their skin and nose. She fumbled in her I-Pod stuffed pocket to find her saviour. The kerchief came out in full glory, meeting her skin with the strokes of an artist. My green eyes saw her through the chequered iron window of that rusty locomotive.

My eyes remain transfixed as the train repels me towards its destination.

I pray to find the rewind button to life. I pray to find powers to still time. I pray. I sink into another seeming bench. I finger my sweaty hair. I make that moment seem magnanimous. I am helplessly restless. Coldplay hums in moments of despair. Calming the rush of blood to my heart, I listen to them. They Fix me.

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you leave something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

The fantasies of Sarah Dias float in my heart-broken mind. I imagine her making conversation with loud Gujarati women about dhoklas, theplas and K-serials. I imagine Bobu and his mindless humour of – "Why did the turkey cross the road?" And the “To prove he wasn’t chicken” reply by Sad Sarah.I Imagine deafening laughter drowning the harmony of the train. As I imagine, I try to smile at their innocence. I smile. And then there is light.

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven - Led Zeppelin for Sarah Dias


I am enlightened. I am happy because I’ve consciously decided to be. And I relive the ancient Vedic rule :
“You are what your deep driving desire is; as is your desire, so is your will; as is your will, so is your deed; as is your deed, so is your habit; as is your habit, so is your destiny."

Sarah, in the meantime, was glued in the present. As Always. Living a lifetime in every heartbeat, she imbibed snapshots of suburban Mumbai. She saw home from a distance. Her face resembled the male specie of the Neolithic Age, home after a long day of food gathering.

After a warm water bath and listening to some “we’ve been on the run, livin’ in the sun, lookin’ out for number one”, she settled down for a sumptuous meal of fish&chips, leafy veggies and salad. The mealtime conversations were a rigmarole of humour, gossip and ideas. The Dias parivar was an emblem of the clichéd “Live Life to the Fullest”.

In a victorious corner of the swarming city i affirm :

And so I have to say before you go
That I just want you to know
I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you


As she settled in her bed, I settled in mine. We were sleeping together.A corny way to express a horny fetish. I belonged to the testosterone driven male specie. Sarah was oblivious. P.G. Woodehouse turned her on at bedtime. As I awakened the hedonist within… She switched off the lights… Sigh!

My soul within her I-Pod sung to her:
"And after all, you're ma wonderwall"




















From the Boulevard of Fantasies, she came alive,
In the realms of my fantasies she will survive;
I pray to thee: Do not let her die,
And as the night fades in, may her light come by
To Us

In loving memory of Sarah Morrison Dias (2006-2006). Immortal in the hearts of men who love.

May her soul rest in peace. May sanity prevail.Amen.