Laying on his back on the hard bed this motel could provide, his eyes were fixed on the slowly rotating fan overhead. It swayed tauntingly above him, driving a creaky noise inside his head. But.., what did he care? His hands clutching his hair, gaze fixed, as if daring the creaky object to crush him. He just wanted to tear himself apart. The only other furnishing in this room, an old wooden table held his shaving set and five brand new blades. He could.., literally tear himself apart. Somehow the prospect of blood and life oozing out of his body seemed a better prospect. But where was the blade.
A whole day of wisky in an empty stomach can make anything invisible. But then, why was she clearly visible to him - everywhere, even when his brain told him that it was impossible. Two hard puffs of breadth escaped out of his lungs - an attempt at laughter. After all, all that he could do now. Laugh at the idiot who lost everyone and everything for his love. And now, look at him - in this dim lit room and a half empty bottle for company.
Pushing himself up on the bed, resting his head on the hard cold wall, his lips reached out to touch lips of the bottle. It was hard, but managed a kiss, wetting his chest more than his throat with the fiery fluid. With a thud the bottle - his hand still clutching it - came down on the bed. "Careful, don't spill it", he heard a voice inside him, "this is all that you have". Right.., finally just this bottle for company.
A tear drop rolled down his cheek. Funny.., how tears can bring back memories - Ronney a senior who spoke through experience telling him, "If a girl can bring tears in your eyes, then I know that you are screwed". Five years ago, in a drunken, but more joyous night, he remembered three of them sitting on the hostel terrace. Two beers down, the lad was already more drunk than he is now. But his eyes shone - shone at the bright future he saw, at the dreams he was flying into - far cry from the sunken eyed man on the bed whose cheeks sagged down, that a smile seemed impossible. That day. he cried for her, perhaps the only time before. But ironically, because, he thought that she could be his, his forever.
Being drunk brings forth you as never seen before, it brings out the you that only you might have fleetingly seen when you lay on your back , head on forearm, looking into the dark night sky littered with tiny stars, the city glowing behind you. The gentle breeze on the terrace ruffled his thin hair. But all he could see was her. Stars twinkled - teasing him, bringing forth a smile in his youthful face. He could see her smile back. And the eye behind those spectacles looked in to his, drowning him. He just wanted to shout at top of his voice "Sunaina" an let the whole world know his love. It's crazy. Oops.., he actually did it, bringing back senses to two others beside him. "Run", Koshy shouted "you might have alerted the security". Rooney stumbled as he was trying to clean up any 'evidences' despite Koshy trying to push the lover and senior down a ladder.
Memories... - try as hard as she might, she couldn't stop a smile break on the face of the older lad in the motel. "Knock knock", he woke up back into the filthy world he was in, far away from sweet memories and dreams. "Sir, your guest", the errand boy called out, with a special emphasis on the word 'guest'. "Open",he swayed his hands, knocking off a glass, shattering it into pieces.
The door creaked, to allow a dusky slender figure. "Quite an excuse for a whore", he thought. Scantily clad in a glittering sari, trying to expose more than it covered. But, barely anything to cover? A voluptuous smile - a trick of trade, but couldn't, not when she was with a drunk man. She knew how they behaved, she had scars to show, all over her body - gifts from other drunkards. Getting beaten up seemed to be part of the trade. Lovers - thats what they were called, but how better were they than peice of flesh hung in a butcher's shop.
Looking into her eyes, he sensed fear. The feeling of being powerful is soo intoxicating. He enjoyed it. "Filth", he thought, "filth he deserved, filth he could treat as he treated himself, filth like him." Managing to stand up on his feet, feeding into the fear of the little girl, he stumbled closer towards her. As much as she detested the drunkard place his hands on her, she couldn't - no she shouldn't - resist. His rough hands scratched her tender cheeks as she looked away. "Bitch, how dare you look away", his muscular hands clutched her jaws. A small cry of pain escaped, with a tinge of tear. She was looking straight into his eyes - eyes which directed her to latch the door.
Sitting on his bed, he poured another drink - neat, no two ice cubes would do fine. He watched, as she sat on the bed. "Sir", she enquired pointing towards her pullo. "Is this what you call your lover !!", he retorted to his bitch. Clearly, he was enjoying her helplessness. He so terribly wantec to crush her beneath his boots. Clenching his teeth, he took hold of her hair, behind her head. Brought her eyes to meet his, tilting his head to right, he brought her lips to meet his. Though dumbstruck for a moment, she responded, she had a job to do. Two hundred bucks for a session is not bad. And he seemed like a person who could drop in a couple more hundred rupee notes.
Tenderness of her lips surprised him. His mind silenced - blank. a bottle of whiskey fully drowned, diluted. Senses previously forgotten struck him. "No!!", he pushed her away. Turning his back to her, he sat on the bed, feet on ground. Bend over, resting his forehead in his palms, he looked at the blankness - the one inside and the one outside. Did he lift his head to well up two drops of ear or to look into the buzzling street outside - made all colorful by dazzling lights and hoardings. How insignificant he was, just a little dot in the hustle called life. And then, here he was, trying to prove that he was not, despite that fact that it was proved to him again.. and again by his life, by his love, by his ego, by his arrogance, by his foolishness...
Looking at him, she could see a man in deep pain. This was not a perverted drunkard looking for a hole of flesh. But a person overwhelmed with pain, pain which flooded him, pain which could drown him unless it flowed out. But, what was she to do? Do her job and go for the next one. She remembered Aalia aka Rinky telling not to get involved with emotions of men, "They pay you for you job, do it and get the hell out of there", was her favorite quote. She can't have another man tonight if she waited, she was wasting her time, her money. Moving closer, she placed her hand on his shoulder.
Startled, he turned back. He saw the girl lift her arm and hide her head behind them, in anticipation of a slap she expected. Looking up, this time, she saw more benevolent eyes, and a smile. "After all, we are nothing but insignificant worms in this whole drama", he said as he removed her hands to unveil her face.
