Dancing by the Window

He impatiently kept looking at the bedroom window across his living room, as the food kept heating in the microwave oven. It was almost 10.30pm and he could not wait to sit by the window.

‘Why is it taking so long’, he murmured under his breath.

As the timer hit zero, and the microwave started buzzing, he quickly took out the hot plate and scurried back to his room. The chair was already set in place and the curtains drawn out from the windows, as if the stage was all ready for the show. He took his seat, placed the plate on his lap, and wore his round glasses, glancing at the opposite end of the neighboring building, at the window just a floor below his own apartment. The view was incredibly clear, and he could see everything happening inside the brightly lit room. She was already there, all dolled up for the ‘show’. Seemingly in her mid-20s, the girl was a captivating sight. Not because of the way she was all dressed and ready each night for her dance performances, from 10:30pm till midnight, but because she was indeed incredibly pretty. Olive colored skin, thick luscious hair, and big black eyes, further accentuated by a thick coat of mascara, she was just breath-taking. She always donned an embroidered, full sleeves ghagra choli that fit well with her classic Indian dance routines, and a lovely pair of thick gold anklets that twinkled in the bright ceiling light every time she twirled. He could sometimes even hear the clinking and tinkling of those gold anklets as she tapped her feet graciously on the ground, like wind chimes jingling soothingly in perfect cadence. It felt odd sometimes not being able to hear the music on which she danced every night though, but he figured she might be using ear pods to fully immerse herself. That also explained why she never seemed to notice his staring longingly from the opposite window. For most parts, he was glad not to be noticed. It was extremely absurd for a thirty-year-old man to be staring at a pretty woman like her, each night. He feared she might simply end up drawing her curtains, but then there was a part of him that wished for her to look at him and appreciate his extreme yearning for her. How he wished to be with her every single moment. He wanted to know so much more about her.

As she danced effortlessly, he munched through his dinner, enjoying each of her steps in an eerily silent rhythm that was followed by a meek chiming tempo from the pair of anklets. It was a sight he could not miss for the world, and he made it a point (ever since he saw her the day he moved in, three months ago) to sit by the window each night, from 10:30pm till midnight, to watch her bedazzle him.

As the needles of the clock approached twelve, he could see her ending the dance routine in her typical manner: tying up her hair, removing her anklets and moving away from the window. This time though, as she undid her anklets, she paused for a moment, and slowly turned back. Moments later, he could see her staring at him. He was embarrassed, and honestly petrified at being noticed, yet he somehow gathered his courage to smile at her. To his pleasant surprise, the girl did not jump in astonishment or rage; she instead stared blankly at him at first and smiled back before walking away from the window.

‘What does that mean’, he wondered. ‘Does she like me, does she approve of me’, he impatiently started jumping to conclusions.

His heart was racing, but it was more from the smile he saw on her face than from the fact that he was just caught red-handed. He could not stop thinking about that moment and waited impatiently for the rest of the night to end.

The next day was spent pondering about the smile as well. He could not think of anything else other than what that smile meant. ‘Was it an approval, or acknowledgement of my feelings towards her? Did she feel the same way about me, what I feel for her each passing day and night? Was it some sort of invitation? Or is it all just part of my imagination?’ The questions kept piling up.

As the night approached, he could not wait to see her again. He was a little hesitant at first though, as the young woman was now aware of a peeping tom from the opposite building. But that smile did mean something, or that is what the man hoped. He slowly took his seat by the window again and was relieved to see that she was still there, all ready to mesmerize him yet again with her dance. Slowly, he could feel his tensed shoulders easing in relief, as his mind refocused on the anklets jingling with her feet. He felt as if she somehow sensed his presence, yet she kept dancing and did not stop for a single second. In fact, he even saw her glance at him a couple of times during the routine, her facial expressions not disgusted or annoyed at the sight of an unfamiliar face staring at her, but somehow pleasantly contend to see a fan of her performance. The man slept like a baby that night, a wide smile across his face the entire time.

He became more and more confident about himself over the next couple of days. He could clearly see the pretty girl smiling at him more and more, during her performances now. He felt as if she appreciated his commitment of religiously watching her performance each night. He, therefore, decided to finally approach the woman of her dreams now.

The man woke up with a steely resolve the next day and got ready. He bought chocolates and flowers and dressed up like a gentleman, as if he was going out on a date. He entered the opposite building, and as he approached the gate of the address that he had meticulously figured out from his window, he was puzzled to see a black and yellow tape covering the doorway. He ignored that and rang the bell. No response. He rang the bell again. No response.

‘Is she not at home’, he wondered. ‘Third time’s the charm’. He rang the bell again, this time slightly longer. No response. He stood there, puzzled and slightly disappointed. Suddenly, a door creaked open. He looked up. The door in front was still closed.

“Can I help you?” He heard someone ask.

It was an old woman from the neighboring apartment, hands on her hips, looking skeptically at him.

“Hi, do you know if there is someone home?” He inquired nervously, not knowing anything about who he was expecting to meet.

“You talking about Malika?” the women asked in response, confusion in her voice.

“Yes, yes, I am a friend of hers. Is she not home? Do you know when she will be back?” The man went on with a lie.

“Oh, honey, do you not know? How come you don’t know?” The woman’s expressions changed from confusion to astonishment, with a hint of pity.

“Know what?” The man enquired.

“They killed her, the poor soul.”

“Wait, what?!” The man was in total disbelief.

“Yes, those bastards got to her. Her good for nothing brothers tracked her down and killed her.”

“What?!” he followed up.

“Yes, they found her. Poor soul. Killed her in the name of honor, according to the police. What honor is this, you tell me, to kill your own sister? What is wrong with living your own dream?” The old woman asked, her voice in aching pain this time.

The man was in total disbelief. He could not feel his legs anymore. ‘I saw her just last night’, he said to himself.

“What?! When?! How?!” He stammered.

“They somehow found out she was living here, in Karachi, and came to her apartment in the middle of the night, killed her at the first sight of seeing her. They stole all her possessions and ran away. I was the first person to see her body. The poor soul, lying there in a pool of blood, her ghagra choli all covered in red. Oh, how excited she was on landing the role of Anarkali in this big theatre play, she was working so hard to nail that role. She was so excited; said this will be her big break. She told me she was practicing her dance numbers each night. She was ready for the role of her lifetime”, the women reminisced with anguish.

“This can’t be true, I just saw her in the apartment last night”, the man blurted out incredulously.

“What are you saying?! It has been FOUR MONTHS since this incident. No one lives in this apartment anymore. In fact, the police has sealed this apartment till the investigation ends. How can you see a person who is dead for the past four months?”

‘Four months!!!’ the man really could not feel anything now. He could feel a strange tingling up his spine, as he looked at the old lady in pure shock and horror.

“Who are you? What do you mean you saw her in the apartment last night?” The woman nudged her questions once again. The man looked at the apartment door, covered in the yellow and black tapes, once again and ran out of the building, taking no notice of the old woman and her questions.

He ran back to his apartment, hurried inside his room, drew the curtains, and hid under his blanket. He could not process all of what he had just heard. He felt sick to the stomach. He could feel himself shivering in horror. He could not think of anything other than the girl. He had seen her every night for the past three months now, how could this be? What had he been seeing all this time then? He kept shivering the entire time, underneath his blanket, not realizing when he dozed off during all this.

He suddenly woke up; his eyes wide open. He did not remember anything for a while, as he looked around. His bedroom was pitch black. In fact, his entire apartment was dark. He had not turned lights on yet, and he could not remember when he fell asleep. The reality slowly crept in however, and he remembered all the events of today. He looked at the bedside alarm clock, only to realize it was 10:37pm. He suddenly could feel the trembling again. His bedroom curtains were drawn shut, his bedroom door almost closed, and he did not dare get out of his blanket, breathing as quietly as he could, under all this trepidation.

‘Was she still there?’ He wondered.

He slowly gathered all the courage he had left and tiptoed his way to the window. He was quaking in fear, but he wanted to see if she was still there. He could feel his dry throat and tensed shoulders. He slowly pulled the curtain away, enough to peek through. He could see the brightly light window across his building, with the beautiful, young woman dancing. As he observed her in fear, peeking through the slit, he seemed to sense as if she was becoming increasingly distraught with every passing minute, increasingly glancing back at his window during her performance. Was she wondering where he was? She suddenly stopped dancing. She turned now, facing the window, looking blankly at the window and seemingly, at him. He felt a jolt up his spine at that very moment. It seemed as if she was looking into his soul. He bolted inside his blanket again. He shivered in sheer horror and kept praying for the night to end. He could not feel his body anymore, his mind numb with fear. He stayed still underneath his blanket, deciding not to come out of it till sunrise.

Minutes passed by, yet he could still not feel his body easing. The night felt long and endless and he wanted all this to end. All of a sudden, the man sensed a sound — a seeming rhythm that he thought he had heard before.

‘What was that,’ he wondered fearfully.

He tried listening again from under his blanket. He thought he heard something again — sound of metals clinging gently. To his horror, he could now make out where he had heard this sound before. His eyes were wide open now. He felt as if his heart wanted to leap out of his body. He could hear the metals clinging very clearly now, though very softly, as if from a distance away. The metals clanged in a slow and weak rhythm, like wind chimes.

‘Impossible’, he exclaimed under his breath.

He was sure it was his mind playing tricks on him now. It had to be. He slowly lifted the blanket from his head, taking a quick peek at his room. With dwindling courage now, he looked around and saw no one in his room. The man, however, noticed a slit of light coming through the slightly ajar door. He slowly looked towards his bedroom door now and saw the living room, brightly lit now. This time, he knew for sure it was not all in his head. He could clearly hear that sound coming from his own living room — the clinking and tinkling of those gold anklets as she tapped her feet graciously on the ground, similar to wind chimes jingling soothingly in perfect cadence.