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Despicable Damsel !

Despicable Damsel

Despicable Damsel - by Nand Kishore G (www.KishoreOnShore.wordpress.com)

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Firoz sat alone on the tip of a rock at the foot of a magnificent mountain. The snow-clad mountains formed a valley right before his eyes. A beautiful river rushed her way through the valley crushing trees and boulders on its way. It looked as if the rigorous river split a single mountain into two halves and rampaged its way through, with gorgeous snow-clad trees on its banks. The milky white river crushed everything that came her way, but she nevertheless made sure that she carries all the rubble with her to dump it all at a place far-far away into the wilderness. Firoz captured every little detail of this picturesque valley whose beauty was taken notches higher by this despicable river. He loved the blatantly dangerous beauty of the river. The anger of the river and its sheer coldness looked personified as a damsel dressed in red who was running beside the river, on the other side of the bank, just as boldly and furious like the river. Firoz stood up in awe at the beauty of this lady who ran as if her life was in danger. But then, he watched closer only to realize that she wasn’t running as if she was in danger, but she ran with an attitude of barbarously slaughtering someone with the dagger that she held in her arms. But who was she running after? He had no clue as he couldn’t see anyone else in the whole landscape.

Bewildered by her beauty, he stood up to try to follow the lady in red. She disappeared into the woods even before his eyes could follow her. He just sat at the banks of the river and absorbed the coldness of the river while he wondered who that stunner was. Suddenly, a part of the river where he sat, started turning red. It was stark red  almost as if it was bleeding. The river now looked just like the lady in red who ran beside her. To his shock, it was the blood oozing out of a body which appeared right before his eyes, floating. His goosebumps starting popping one-by-one like popcorn when he saw the same dagger rammed across the neck of a well-built man’s body. The floating body passed the very spot where he sat. The man was alive but struggled to survive the river. Firoz could only see back of the man’s head. Firoz’s toes now touched the head of the corpse. Right then, a bullet came rushing and hit the body’s head to splatter the remaining blood out of the body, but this time partly on the river and most of it on Firoz. This very sight sent an electric shock through Firoz’s body to form a muscular spasm across. His senses were partly paralyzed. After he regained some of his senses, he looked the way from where the bullet was shot. The lady in red stood vehemently on the other side of the river. As he regained enough vision to grasp what the hell just happened, he noticed she wasn’t really wearing red but white. All the blood splattered around her painted the skimpy short dress red, bloodied red. She stood there smiling at the sight of a ball-busted guy who just got splattered in her prey’s blood. She took the gun which she held in her hand to kiss it passionately and winked at this stranger bathed in blood of her victim.

“Finish your soup Preet!” shouted Preet’s grandmother on a breezy cold night. It was past 9 that snowy night, a good old 10 years ago. With no answer to be heard, she glanced through the window to see if Preet had finished her soup. The bowl was empty and so was the seat where the old lady left her 10-year-old grand-daughter. She called out her name again anxiously several times to get no answer. She hurried her way back to the deserted house. The front door was open. Drapes on the window fluttered rigorously just like the old lady’s pounding heart. She searched for the girl several days throughout their little town but in vain. She gave up. She had no more strength to walk an endless road, all by herself. Years passed and she had nearly forgotten everything about her life. Several days later, on that fateful night, window panes smashed as a heavy breeze gushed into her small house. Old lady spent her last sad breath in distress to be taken away from her life. She died.

Years passed and it was autumn again. It was Preet’s favorite season. The misty freshness that spread throughout the jungle would fill up her soul. She loved the way misty leaves would glow with the blood drops of her prey. She knew she killed for pleasure. She would have slaughtered her grandmother if she could, for all the torture that she had laid upon in the name of love. The only problem was that the old lady was too weak and the pleasure of killing would have been a bare minimum. Preet got her pleasure not from the deaths but from the sufferings of those strong preys whom she wished to attack. She had never before failed in her hunt for pleasure. The only time she felt guilty was when she accidentally killed two instead of one. The guilt was not because she killed them but because she couldn’t make the other one suffer enough.  One of the deaths had gone in vain. As a little girl, she was once taken to a psychiatrist by her grandmother to check why Preet was getting such animal instincts. After the psychiatrist termed Preet as an incredible threat to society for her violent mental streaks, Preet felt a sudden urge to behead the psychiatrist’s body and do the same to her stupid Grandmother. She couldn’t do that but she made sure to dump the body of the psychiatrist from the thirteenth floor. She hurried down before too much crowd could gather. She stepped on the splattered blood and pressed her heels on the doctor’s fist. After absorbing every bit of the image that she just created, she quietly walked away and disappeared into the crowd. Preet’s grandmother loved her too much to give her away to the police.

Preet had killed many but no one were ever able to trace her since her murders were all very random. Probably because she always disappeared into her favorite jungles in the midst of snow-capped mountains to ease her nerves and get recharged for her next deathly endeavor. Her formula was very simple. If she liked someone, her very first thought would be to make a tiny bloody fountain out of their heads. She would feel that they deserved to die in the hands of her. She had numerous ways of killing her prey. This was her favorite. Sticking a dagger right through one’s neck to their forehead to pop their eyes out. This time in the valley it was different. For the first time, someone witnessed her pleasurable obsession!

Firoz sat there on the bank of the river, still and petrified. He had lost sense of everything around him. He was awe-struck. For someone who would throw up at the thought of blood, was now covered in pieces of human flesh and freshly brewed blood. She jumped into the river and swam towards Firoz. She swam like an elegant swan but covered in blood. Her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of a stranger witnessing her hunting. Firoz didn’t have a clue as to what was waiting for him. She crawled her way out of the water and started walking towards Firoz. As she approached, Firoz couldn’t help but notice her breathtaking beauty. She looked gorgeous. Dangerously stunning. May be this very incident turned him insane or may be he was born that way, but he was actually turned on by this sequence of events. Just a while ago he had fallen in love with the stunningly dangerous river and now the river had personified itself to become an equally ethereal beauty. He hoped that she wouldn’t touch him, because if she goes ahead and touches him, he was sure to fall staggeringly in love with this satanic temptress. She walked as if on a runway in slow motion with her pouting lips. Her wet clothes had now merged with her skin and made it no different from her bare self.

“No one has ever seen me do this you know!” she whispered into Firoz’s ear as she bent over his shoulders while she made sure to touch the tips of his ear with her wet luscious lips. She held her hand around his shoulders and grabbed his neck with the other hand.

He fell for her. She had touched him. For a very brief moment he forgot that he had just witnessed a brutal murder. All he could think of was the warm breath of Preet gushing through his ear. His body shivered as she got up, still wet and stood in front of Firoz. They exchanged looks for quite some time.

As days passed Firoz turned out to be Preet’s henchman. He later turned a friend who developed similar interests as Preet’s. After several successful endeavors with blood and daggers, Preet started enjoying Firoz’s company. Firoz was in love with this insanely insane damsel who was surviving on others’ immense suffering, ending in deaths. Even in his strangest fantasies, he had never imagined someone like this. Even his fantasies started changing with the thoughts. He was an entirely different person now. She had dragged him completely into the darker side of humanity, more towards being animals.

Preet’s fondness turned into love. She started to enjoy his company as much as all the killing she did. She got the pleasure of stabbing a helpless prey just by caressing his hair. She got the satisfying feeling of shooting someone in the eye just by touching his lips and getting lost in his deep brown eyes. A boy toy whose company she was enjoying had now turned out to be the first love of her life. She had never loved another human being. Not even her grand-mother. But, she fell in love with Firoz. She never knew what love would feel like. Probably for her, Love meant the feeling that would keep her from killing that person! She wanted to save Firoz for herself.

Months passed and gave way to years. They lived and killed together! It was as if no one cared for all the random murders that were happening in and around this small town. As years passed, Preet started developing streaks of normalcy as she enjoyed being in love more than being the one to kill. An animal caged in a human body was paving way for a girl in love. Firoz on the other hand had almost transformed into an entirely different person. The animal which escaped from Preet had now entered Firoz. Firoz enjoyed not the killing part but the part when he encouraged Preet to kill like a ferocious beast. He did not sense Preet’s lack of pleasure in being the temptress who loved to kill.

That sunny day, after an elaborate swim, she came out of the same river where she had first met Firoz. Firoz now sat at the tip of a cliff from where the river escaped into the jungles. It pierced through the floating clouds to form a beautiful waterfall. The sun was just rising this morning. She walked past the misty forest to reach the tip where Firoz sat. Dew drops on all the shrubs and little plants that she walked past, had left traces of their dew drops on her skin. There was no blood this time, but just her bare wet skin pampered with nature’s priciest dew drops. Her moist skin now glowed in the tender sun rays that flowed on her like a golden mold to form a breathtaking sight. She quite literally looked golden in her bare skin beneath the little white dress she wore. She stood there staring at the virgin sun. Her glare probably made the sun himself t0o embarrassed. He somehow hid himself behind a cloud but the sun rays cut across the gaps to shoot themselves on Preet. She caressed Firoz’s hair craving for some attention. The heat that made Sun himself to hide had now no effect on Firoz.

She sat across him and whispered “Do you remember this place Firoz?”

“Of course jaan. I saw you first at this very place near the river. How can I possibly forget this valley!”

“You know that I am madly in love with you right?” she asked him. His soft hair rushed between her long fingers as she caressed his hair, which gave her senses a sensual high.

“What makes you think I don’t” he answered casually.

“I know I have changed. I have started enjoying things in life which were till now trivial to me. I never looked at another person in the eye without an intent to kill. But now I look at you and all I have for you is Life. Mine and yours. You stopped looking at me with the same passion that you used to. The way you saw me that morning right here near the river.”

“Look at this river honey. Would you still love this river if it flowed like a saint? I love it because it gives me immense excitement by its usher danger” he just mumbled.

She couldn’t believe what she just heard. But she went on to add “Are you not in love with me anymore?”

“I don’t know. May be I am. I am in love with the personality who shot a helpless man right before my eyes and winked at me. I am in love with that nasty devil in you. Are you saying that you don’t have that devil in you anymore?”

“I never felt so low in my entire life. Just when I thought you would fill all the gaps in my soul, you have slit it more”

Without saying anything, he plainly turned towards the sun which had now emerged out of the clouds. Something suddenly flashed in his mind and he had a straying thought. He wondered how would it feel to see the death of this new Preet who had killed his love. But as he always did, he never killed anyone by himself. All he did was give Preet enough reason to give him the pleasure of witnessing death right before his eyes. He had a sudden urge to make this new Preet kill herself. That would be the most pleasurable act he had ever thought of. His love and Preet’s life was now about to climax in this very spot where it all began.

Firoz now turned towards the teary eyed Preet and said “Jaan, after all these years being together, I have realized what you want, better than what you know about yourself. You had once told me why you had the thought of killing your grandmother. The act of killing someone who you loved so much was the utmost pleasure you could possibly get. Over these years, you have started loving yourself so much that you are losing to yourself. It’s the right time to kill your new personality. You love yourself the most. Now you know what to do with this dagger.” he smiled mildly and handed it over to Preet.

She had gradually forgotten about her most basic instinct to kill in all these years with Firoz. She now knew he was right. She stared at the sun for several minutes hoping that all her love for Firoz would evaporate. She felt like the river which ferociously jumped a great deal to form a beautiful waterfall. She had never had any sense of reasoning as she was more of an animal than a human being. She decided it all had to end.

Firoz looked at the transformation of Preet he himself had triggered. She was glaring at the sun which had now again disappeared behind the numerous dark clouds. There was hardly any light piercing those heavy clouds. It had all turned dark but the transformation of Preet from being a young girl in love into her previous self of being a despicable damsel was eminent. This very moment he knew her look wasn’t of someone who was about to kill herself but of the one who would trade all the pleasures in the world, just to see a dagger stuck through his heart. He rose from where he sat, ready to flee. She was just reborn the way she was born, and the credits went to him.

Bare foot, Firoz was now struggling his way through the jungles running away from the woman he fell in love with. He didn’t dare to turn back to take a look at Preet chasing him like an animal. She chased him all the way down to the mountain, all the while screaming and roaring. She held that dagger firm, ready to strike Firoz’s heart and split his heart into pieces. All the way she thanked Firoz for making her love herself again. She now chased him on the banks of the glorious river. She was going to give him an equally glorious death. A sharp twig got stuck in Firoz’s foot and Preet jumped right beside him with her dagger like an animal. As he struggled to get away, she grabbed his neck like a tigress and kissed him passionately. For anyone, it would have looked like a kiss filled with intimate love but Firoz knew it was more like a tigress licking her prey’s skin to feel the prey before killing it. He was right. She moved her lips away from his with an extraordinarily dangerous smile but with giant tear drops that ran down her cheeks. Before the tear drop could fall on the ground, she stuck the dagger right through his neck. Blood from his body splashed on whatever was left of her white dress. It looked red now. She shivered as if she just had an orgasm and loosened her grip on Firoz. His dying body gathered all the strength and got away to run. He ran like a deer who just escaped a tigress’ attack. She again chased him. He escaped into the bushes. She didn’t lose sight of her prey. Firoz fell into the river as his body found it excruciatingly painful to get away. He hoped that the river he fell in love with, would now rescue him from Preet. But he was right, the river looked like a personified Preet as it slowed down drastically to give Preet enough time to do the final attack. She took out the gun she had tucked in her belt and pointed at his head. She pulled the trigger like a hunter and hit the target right through. The head burst out into blood to form a little fountain of sorts. The blood splattered on the man who sat right on the other side of the river. Preet smiled at him outlandishly and winked.

Firoz, who died moments ago had now seen his life flash through his eyes like it was yesterday. He wondered if this is what it would feel like after death. Moments ago he had wondered who this despicable damsel was, who ran  behind a stranger with a dagger. She was Preet, the same Preet whom he had loved. Same Preet who killed him. He had wondered who this stranger was, whose body was floating right before his eyes on the river. It was his own body. He had just witnessed every detail of his glorious years with Preet a whisker away from his life and his senses. He had seen himself burst into pieces of flesh.

In the midst of all this, he felt a warm whisper which sent shivers through his soul. It was the same breath that he had felt, sitting at the same spot a few moments ago. It was Preet again. She whispered “No one has ever seen me do that you know!” as she held his arm. Before he could digest what just happened, he saw the corpse of Preet floating past his corpse. River carried both the bodies with it to leave them free into the wilderness where they belonged. The bodies fell from the waterfall and disappeared. Preet and Firoz held their hands as they watched their bodies disappear forever. She winked at the boy toy she found again, with a smile of course and mumbled “Lets give some of our love to the dead with our dagger !”

 

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Moon Bites

Moon bites... on shore !

Moon bites... on shore !

They loved. They lost. They got married but not with each other. They spent 35 years of their family life with content. They were now back being alone. He sat on a bench facing the lake and stared at the moon which seemed like a quick stroke of light. It reminded him of his remaining life. At least the moon will re-gain its glory as the time passes. But he had lost his glorious days and now was alone. She stood thousands of kilometers away staring at the same moon. She knew she had achieved enough by making everyone around her comfortable to lead their own lives. It was now her life; and only her life. There was no one left for her to take care. She could finally have her own life now. The same moon reminded him of his remaining pitiful few days while she felt an uplifting spirit to lead a life of her own.

They had never stopped loving each other. They had somehow just forgotten about their love as their responsibilities had overshadowed that tiny flame in their hearts. But now, that spark was in the verge of setting those responsibilities on fire. They both longed for love at the end of their days.

“Are you kidding me?” she blurted out.

“No, I am serious. No one would care. It’s a market. They’re all busy bargaining. Just give me a quick peck; at least on my cheek. Come on. It’ll be so exciting” he pleaded with a wicked smile.

“I know it’ll get you excited. That’s what is worrying me, you idiot”

“Ok. Let me do it at least”

“Grab these bags and let’s leave. Aren’t you ashamed of making your girlfriend carry so much of baggage”

“Nah… I am trying to carry your stupid ego! It’s heavier”

“You’re already tired of my ego? You have to carry it for the rest of your life! Beware!!!” she teased.

“Are you expecting us to get married? Nah… I am not as stupid as you” he shot back with the same wicked smile.

“Who spoke of marriage? I am just telling you will have to carry my ego for the rest of your life. If we get married you’ll repent forever. If you don’t you might repent not just excruciatingly more but also carry the guilt of giving up on me! Now shut up and carry these bags. My hands might fall off”

Although 35 years had passed ever since, both of them remembered every bit of that conversation. It played like a nostalgic movie in black and white in their mind as both of them stared at the same moon on the same night.

She wondered if she can call up some old contacts and try to reach him. It wouldn’t have been that difficult to find about someone like him. She had voluntarily severed all sort of social ties of their lives. She loved him too much to manage to let him walk away again.

At this side of the moon, he was wondering how it would have felt to have her right beside him at this very moment. His senses still lingered every bit of her. He remembered how she smelt. He could remember how her touch felt. The way she breathed. He remembered the way her hair romanced her eyes, and sometimes his eyes. He remembered her favorite dress. He knew she wouldn’t have changed. He knew that no amount of wrinkles can hide those sparkling eyes. He knew the color of the hair wouldn’t weaken their urge to romance those eyes. He knew her age wouldn’t have managed to take away her natural aroma. He knew she might not fit into her old favorite dress anymore but she would have a new favorite dress.

“You’ve gone fat. Stop eating” he teased her as she took an insanely huge bite of a burger.

“Do you hear yourself and can you at least see yourself?” she said casually without taking her eyes off the burger.

“I have always been this way, although I keep fluctuating. But look at your flab. Don’t ask me to buy you new cloths” he quipped.

“Yeah right!!! As if you have bought me any. I am just trying to match your size. What if guys start flirting and I get tempted? I might as well put on more weight to ward off those horny eyes!!!” she mumbled as she munched the French fries.

“Ha haa… You’re so funny. I will dump you when you get fat!” he said sarcastically.

“Great!!! I have had enough of you in these 6 years. Now I am surely going to order more of these burgers with extra cheese!!!” she said with subtle laughter.

Clouds gathered around the moon and it was now hardly visible. She just stood there sipping on a cup of coffee. He had always made fun of her habit of drinking coffee before going to bed. He never missed a chance to tease her to ask if that cup of coffee was to energize her in the bed. With a grin she went inside and shut the drapes. She dimmed the lights and wondered what she could possibly do to lead a life she always wished for. Either she had forgotten that she was nearing 60 or she didn’t really give a damn. Her cell phone started vibrating. It was an unknown number. She wanted it to be him but for a quick moment which felt like hours, she thought what she could possibly speak to him after so many years!

“Hello..?” she said curiously.

After an elaborate pause came a voice “Hi… Hey… This is…”

“I was just thinking about you”

“Oh is it? How come? How did you know I would call?” he asked with a little sarcasm and mostly surprised.

“No I didn’t expect your call. I was just thinking about you. I just finished my coffee and was on my way to crawl into my bed” she said bluntly expecting him to make that coffee joke!

“Oh your husband needs your energized version is it?”

“Aren’t you too old to make a stupid joke like that?”

“Aren’t we both too old to repeat this conversation for a millionth time?”

“It’s been more than 35 years. Why did you call now?” she choked as her voice came out.

“At least I cared to call”

“Of course you would care. After all, caring for someone else actually starts at around the age of 60 for men!” she shot back.

“That’s all they’ll be left with to do. Nothing else would be as firm as caring”

“Stop being vulgar with a lady at this odd hour”

“You’re a lady now?”

“I was always one”

“Ladies don’t kiss guys in a market in front of hundreds of people” he said with a wicked tone to tease her.

“I didn’t kiss ‘any’ guys. I kissed you”

“Of course you would. I was quite hot then..!”

“I know you were. Your stink wasn’t really hiding your heat”

“Oh you’re still a pig”

“Aren’t we both?”

“You didn’t answer me when I asked if your husband needs your energized version. Hope I am not draining out your energy”

“I can make another cup of coffee for myself” she said with a sharp voice.

“You didn’t answer me”

“You are trying to hit on me?”

“Nah, I am just trying to hit you” he giggled.

“It’s too late for this you know”

“Oh, you are sleepy?”

“I am not. But you slept for 35 years.”

“It was a mutual decision. Wasn’t it?”

“Was it? For me it was more like one’s decision and another’s agreement to that decision”

“We have matured way too much to argue on that now” he shrugged.

“We are speaking like the same couple who fought as to who would carry the baggage in the market. It doesn’t feel like we haven’t spoken for decades.”

“Haha… I know” he giggled but she quickly added in a serious tone.

“We would have been great if we had spent our lives together. Instead we just spent it”

“That’s why I called. I had tracked you down months ago. It took me all this while to gather myself to call you”

“That’s probably because it’s your birthday today and you’re too drunk”

“In my medical condition, even spelling a-l-c-o-h-o-l is deadly”

“So you called to say sorry?” she groaned as her pitch peaked to its highest but settled down in an instant.

“Why should I say sorry? If anyone needs to be sorry then it’s got to be both of us or none” he shot back with his most serious tone.

“I was sorry back then itself. I was waiting for you to be sorry but as it turns out, it’s my turn again. Sorry but I have to get back to bed. I have a flight early tomorrow”

“I am sorry.”

“I wasn’t lying about the flight. I really have one”

“… and I wasn’t lying when I said I am sorry” he swallowed a nervous gulp to ease his choked throat.

“I know.”

“I might not be able to call you again. It took me a lot of courage to do this now. I will probably succumb to the nervousness next time” he confessed.

“I know.”

“Stop doing that. You’re just as annoying as before”

“And you’re just as late as before”

“Am I really that late?” he asked with the last hope.

“Probably not, but I have responsibilities now. My grand kids need me. It’s their first day at school tomorrow and I need to be there”

“Do you ‘want’ to be there or you just ‘need’ to be there?”

“Did you want to keep up your responsibilities back then or did you just NEED to keep up those?”

“Don’t be rude”

“Wound is fresh you know”

“We both needed it back then”

“But I changed my decision immediately after that, you were stubborn. You didn’t even try”

“We tried for two years. It was too late to change our decisions”

“Its 35 years more now… what makes you think it’s not late now?”

“Probably because it’s way too late for the time to matter”

“Your theories still doesn’t make any sense”

“Can we at least meet?”

“What do you mean ‘at least’? You haven’t yet asked for anything more. Why did you say ‘at least’?”

“Do I have to ask?”

“Yes. I have forgotten to read your mind with years. I can hardly read. Reading minds is out of question” she said, again with blunt sarcasm.

“Can I hope for this conversation to go anywhere?”

“Why do you leave everything to hope?”

“My god. You know how to hurt don’t you?”

“I haven’t loved anyone enough in a while to hurt this much. Probably this is more like a volcanic eruption”

“You haven’t..?” he asked with a tiny ray of hope again.

“No. I was drained even before I was required to Love after marriage. Sometimes responsibilities and honor can replace Love. Arguably even more effectively”

“What about now?”

“Age for my ‘wants’ have long gone. I am here for my grand kids now” she said. While she spoke those words she burst out with tears for being dishonest to herself. It was one of those rare moments when it was all about her but she just tried and pushed it away as someone else’s. In that dark room, her tears somehow managed to gloom. Her hands trembled as she wanted to ask him to come and meet her right this moment. She just wanted him, just him and an embrace she longed for years now. A hug would have compensated for 35 years of life spent for the sake of responsibilities but not love.

“But we have finally crossed that age when we are needed by someone else. Your grand kids have their parents. Don’t they? We have just each other. Let’s elope”

“And go where? To an old-age home?”

“I am rich! That’s all I am!!!”

“Of course you are!” she said with a tired expression.

“Brushing off your sarcasm again, we can have the life we dreamed of. Can’t you at least think about it for a while? You can have my number. Call me whenever you feel it’s the right time. All I am left with to do is wait” he said. He decided it would be his last try and gave his number. He didn’t check if she was noting down his number, but he didn’t try too hard. He understood what she meant when she said it was too late. But he had to try. Thirty-five years ago when they decided to break-up, the conversation ended with a sad smile. This last try was to keep up his last promise. He still remembered that last conversation.

“So we are now not going to meet ever again is it?” she asked as she grabbed that last tissue on the table.

“Let’s make a pact. When I am 60, I will contact you. We can just elope then and have a life somewhere in the world away from everyone we know.”

“Good way of telling that you give a damn what happens to me for the next 35 years”

“Don’t make this more difficult”

“I will” she said as she pulled out her hand from his.

“Expect a call on my 60th birthday”

“I hope you die before that” she was back to her brutal sarcasm.

“… and I hope your family would have succumbed to your brutality before my 60th birthday so that you can elope with me without any hurdles” he added with a quick smile which obviously looked like a failed attempt to make her smile.

Her heavy breathing brought him back to the present moment. There he was, keeping up his silly promise to try for one last time on his 60th birthday. She didn’t answer. After a pause that probably felt longer than those 35 years, she gathered herself and spoke.

“I really need to get my cup of coffee now. Good night”

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The Chetak Diaries : Part – I, Year 1994 !!!

The Chetak Diaries, Kishore On Shore

The Chetak Diaries

Battle of Haldighati has found an eternal place in World History for the epitome of Bravery and Chivalry displayed by the Rajput Emperor Pratap Singh Mewar, mostly referred to as Maharana Pratap. A major chunk of the credit, as per the legends go, goes to his extraordinary horse Chetak.

In our school, we had a poem in Hindi and just a couple of lines in it would describe Chetak quite conveniently. This is how it goes:

Aage nadiya padi apaar….  ghoda kaise utaare paar !

Rana ne socha iss paar…. tab tak chetak tha uss paar !!!!

That’s how legendary Maharana Pratap’s Chetak was. Now, there are a million Chetaks and each have their own Legends ! Many still ride it with the same fervor while others just park it in their garage hoping it to turn into an Antique model soon, which I believe will take at least another couple of decades ! It was Maharana Pratap’s Chetak then, and now it’s Bajaj’s Chetak !

I was crying bloody murder as I had smashed my head on a window and a piece of the metal had pierced into my forehead ! As if the wound wasn’t hurting enough, I had to get loads of my mom’s evergreen and ever-effective look “get-well-soon-and-you-will-get-a-real-handful-from-me” !!! She yelled, screamed and did a million other things simultaneously as she hurriedly dragged me to the nearest clinic (which was again like a million kilometers far, keeping in mind the current situation). She “requested” the others waiting outside the clinic to allow her  “immediately” to take her son to see the doctor. Probably she dared anyone to stop her from doing so just by her “look” ! A couple of gentlemen out there made way and offered to carry me, but she held me so tight that it wasn’t the wound hurting anymore. We were now inside the doctor’s dungeon ! The Hell… and The Satan with a rubber pipe hanging around his neck !

I had probably stopped crying by then just to dial down the frenzy, so that the stupid doctor doesn’t take any drastic decisions like Syringes and Stitches ! I knew, because it obviously wasn’t the first time !

The doctor checked the fresh wound quickly and comforted my mother that it’s nothing serious, and that there was nothing to worry. Probably this is when she loosened the way she was holding my hands and I could see a tiny drop of tear somewhere around her eyes. It could have been just a sweat bead ( NO.. it wasn’t). Being the Attention Mongering Moron that I am (yes.. since then), I started to dial up the tone of crying just so that they know that the wound is not really that simple. It was huge and it was bleeding and hurting and everything !

“He’ll just need a couple of stitches and he’ll be perfectly fine” said the Satan and I witnessed my worst nightmares unraveling itself right in front of my eyes.  I damned myself for over-doing the dial-up and dial-down of the theatrics. Just then, he went in somewhere to get his torture weapons, and I looked at my mom. I managed to give the cutest look like a little wounded puppy with sagging eyebrows and was just about to say something but the devil was back by then. Mom had got what I was about to say, so she asked the doctor “Doctor, he gets very upset by syringes.  Please make sure it doesn’t hurt.” and then she looked at me and continued ” We will have ice cream after this…!” I was shocked, who said anything about syringes. He was only about to stitch the wound. Why is she giving ideas to the devil…! Only later did I realize, that the torture has to start with the syringe so that the torture with the needle wouldn’t hurt much…! What an irony !!! Doctors are supposed to be intelligent I thought !

All this while I had kind of managed to forget about crying, but when he took out that syringe, I beat my own record in crying. I am sure the birds’ family on the tree outside the clinic got relocated somewhere else… immediately ! I don’t remember what happened after that, but when I woke up, there was a big, heavy load of cotton and all that bandage stuff stuffed on my wound ! It wasn’t hurting anymore, but why take attention off my wound ??! So, I just made some sympathy sounds now and then, to retain the attention ! Before I could strangle the devil with his own rubber pipe that was hanging around his neck, mom was taking me outside the cabin. For some reason, she made me sit outside in the waiting lounge again !

Thoughts of the traumatic last few minutes flashed in my mind again, and I wondered if I have to go through all of that again ! I never even realized that the doctor had given me a chocolate. I didn’t want to eat that right there in the Devil’s own territory. It would have hurt my ego ! So, I hid it back in my pocket !

But, just then, that very moment, I heard a sound that made all my miseries go away in a whisker ! I forgot about the wound. I forgot about the devil and his stupid cotton factory on my forehead ! I freed myself from my mom’s hand, jumped from the couch and ran towards the gate and yes, I was right. There comes my Dad’s scooter. The green, Bajaj Chetak. My own Maharana Pratap was arriving majestically riding his Chetak ! I stood near the gate jumping like a monkey waiting to complain every single thing about every single person who made me go through that trauma.

Mom followed me and held my hand tightly again, shouting not to cross the road. Dad then crossed the road in his scooter and came right in front of us. I started yelling out some crap as I hurriedly hopped on the scooter in the space between the front seat and the back seat. There was no seat there technically, but I was always made to sit there. Mom would then sit in the backseat. I would be sandwiched between then. I loved it. I hugged my dad’s back and held him tight. Mom sat behind me as usual and somehow, she still managed to hold me tight just the way she had been doing for the last 1 hour.

That very moment, dad riding the Chetak, me hugging him tight and knowing that mom is right behind me holding me firmly, was a luxury. It was not about the wound anymore. I wished to get more wounds often so that I could get “this” much more often. Also, and more importantly, more of sympathy Ice Cream, which tastes more heavenly than the regular ice cream !!! 😛

This was not really about the scooter, but the moments that our Chetak offered to families like ours. The warmth, the comfort, the affection and in one word, Love.

End of Part I

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