Morning fever

The first thing in the morning I tune my mind to is The New Indian Express. I am your average guy who never delves much into stories unless it concerns Cricket, Pink Floyd or Hollywood actresses. Then I grope every place that has the remotest likelihood of sheltering a pen - the top of the fridge, the computer table, the little shelf in the toilet (yes indeed!). Invariably I find it in the toilet shelf, and head for the sofa. I struggle with the Sudoku for an hour before switching to comic strips on the penultimate page. Nobody in the household misses out on Beetle Bailey. A few smiles later I move to the column courtesy Messrs Henri Arnold and Mike Argirion, Jumble. Over a period of years I've understood why I've never seen the words 'silent' or 'master' appearing here in Jumble, because you can make up more than one word with the letters s-i-l-e-n-t. I wish I could do a Tom Marvolo Riddle etching out his name in thin air for them to magically spell out 'I am Lord Voldemort', but I'll resign myself to saying that master can also anagram to stream, as can silent to listen and enlist. Anyway, as I get around to the crossword with which I've never had a lot of satisfaction in the past, my eyes glue themselves on to clue 15 across:

Persian reunion of broken parts (7)

Oh yeah - that's Algebra, I tell myself, Al-jabr echoing in my head. It had come up earlier in a quizzing jam back at college, and I put it down in black and white before I spot the clue succeeding it :

Glowing causing confusion at the lowest point (7)

I stop to think for a moment - lowest point may mean chasm or nadir, and for some instinctive reason decide on nadir, club it with 'at' and end up with radiant. A bit of chance there, but all's fair in love, war and crosswords.

I migrate to the bedroom, and switch on some music. It's a delightful combo, doing crosswords with The Bee Gees playing along. I suddenly start to imagine a dashing young man walking down the sidewalk making him the cynosure of all surrounding eyes, and my mind dates back to the 70s era which I unfortunately wasn't a part of. Sigh. Back to the crosswords.

8 down: Transgress a lesser colour (6)

I have help here - the last letter clashes with the t of radiant, and I can think of only one six-lettered colour that ends with t. Violet. I consider it for a moment, and the brilliance of crosswords hits me. I hurriedly go through what the gentleman had in mind when he set the clue - Transgress = violate; which is a lesser - 'a' lesser => violate minus a, and playing with the other letters I land up with violet. Oh man.

At this point I look at the clues I've solved thus far. There's some connection somewhere between them...I think to myself.

Big and strong husband partially eyes extremes of key (5)

I put down h-u-s from 'husband partially' - then gather the extremes of key - k and y. An easy clue, I tell myself. Husky.

Again, the bridge between the words is so strong...I can only imagine she has more than one admirer from the society of cruciverbalists. Subconsciously, I smile. My mother spots me, and gives me a quizzical look. Shaking my head, glad that I can see something she can't, I turn off the music and march off, the crossword page in my hand.

It's all a delusion, I tell myself. 'A false belief of french lion surrounding America', my alter-self pipes in and I laugh at the weakly constructed clue.

I still have a lot to learn.

8:02

As she slammed the door of the sedan shut, she looked askance at the house which she believed hadn't looked this desolate in decades. Raindrops pattered on top of the car. Getting behind the wheel, she turned the ignition key. The car quietly whirred into action, and with it, the local FM station. She stared at the wheel, or something beyond it she alone was capable of discerning. A couple of pensive minutes passed.

"There's a lady who's sure, all that glitters is gold...."

She stepped on the accelerator. Memories came flooding, taking her back to that night. She'd liked him at once. He had all the right moves, and behaviour equivalent to an 18th century Englishman - courteous and admirable. What began as a platonic relationship tumbled across the borderline towards sensuality in a matter of weeks and before she knew it, they were poring over The Big Book of Child Names.

“….. but she wants to be sure, ‘cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.”

When he had said “I do” the joy enveloping her had known no bounds. It had come to an abrupt end as the devil in him began to unleash. The night she realized why he had never bothered to mull over her marriage proposal delivered the first blow of several to follow. Three days after the marriage, driving at 60 miles an hour on the US 176, she looked at her bruised arm which showed traces of dried blood. Her hands bloody, her wrists were still shrouded by a shred of bandage which she had carelessly ripped off with what remained of that broken champagne bottle - one of the many paraphernalia that had been flung at her.

“Yes there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there’s still time to change the road you’re on.”

She paused for a moment and considered, it seemed to make sense to her chaotic mind. Wearing a wry smile, she stepped on the gas. These guys were geniuses. It was a pity this was going to be the last time she listened to the song. And she knew it.

“Dear Lady can you hear the wind blow, and did you know, your stairway lies on the whispering wind.”

Nervous excitement. Joy. Exhilaration. Vigour. Power surging through the limbs. A thousand moments of glory fluttering in the head. These last few minutes of her life were going to be her best. The speedometer showed 180 miles an hour.

Three minutes later, in the town of Spartanburg, South Carolina, a ramshackle sedan lay smashed against the façade of a multi-storeyed building leaving the onlookers stunned in silence, while the player continued to hum in the background.

“...and she’s buying the stairway to heaven.”