C and A

A storyteller will tell stories.So another one:

Hot, humid, horrific. The night was all that and more. She couldn’t care. She was on a mission. She strode down the raw bleeding underbelly of Mumbai, a tiny figure in denims, a hooded black jacket, and sneakers. Pimps, whores, drug pushers, drug addicts, ‘hijras’ ,winos, cruisers, thronged the street .She never looked.

He was concerned. ‘This is a dangerous place to be walking at this time ‘’.She shrugged ‘Leave if you want.’. Her abrupt dismissal hurt. Damn it, he loved her. He couldn’t leave her alone, though he knew that she couldn’t care less. His six foot frame tried to keep up with her. Like a panther, she loped, pausing to sniff her prey. Her hazel eyes glowed, he knew she was unstoppable. The streets grew narrower, the lights dimmer, the stench of human debris was making him sick. She didn’t stop.

‘This must be hell’ he thought. And hell it was. Waylaid by ‘dalals’ pushing girls, boys, children ,drugs. She stopped.’ This it it. Lets go’.

It was a seedy ,dilapidated bar. He demurred ‘That’s no place for a lady’ ‘Are you a lady?” she sneered, and walked in. The room was dark, sweetly smoky, men of all sizes sat sprawled with vacant eyes, leering faces, entwined in a grotesque embraces. She stepped over them, and to the bar. ‘’Two draft beers’. The man stared at her ,trepidation lurking in his eyes. She smiled. The sun broke the dark clouds. The man smiled furtively ,poured two beers, she paid him, imperiously waving the change away. The man thawed. ‘Thank you Madam’. Another smile ,more radiant.

The man stood spellbound. ‘Do you want some thing to eat?” “No, but I would like to talk to you.” The man drew away. ‘I just am manager of the bar, not the ‘seth’. I don’t know anything’ She soothed him ‘No, not anything about the lovely restaurant, just some directions. I am new here.’ .He wondered that she lied so innocently. The man relaxed ‘You are a foreigner, Madam’ She nodded. ‘Yes. From Spain.’’ The man smiled ‘How can I help you ,Madam?” She laughed ‘By bringing us another two beers.’.

He was perplexed. She drained her glass, his was untouched. The beers came. She lit up, blowing perfect smoke rings, he hated it. And it made no difference to her. She cosied herself on the chair blending with the pervading, pervasive persona of the place. Four beers later, and too many smokes, she had become a part of the decay. He wanted to leave, but his innate goodness, and love for her stopped him.

He had asked her “Why are we doing this” so often in the last month, since she asked him to accompany her. She smiled mona lisa like. Didn’t answer. She waved to the man. She whispered. The man smiled, went scuttling away. And came back with an emaciated young man. Face of an angel, vacant eyes, a choirboys voice. The man smiled furtively, and said softly ‘This one will do anything for money. For the drugs….”.She smiled graciously ‘Thank you. Can we book a room upstairs?’ and slipped him a thousand rupee note. The man appeared overwhelmed ‘Of course Madam. I will take you there myself .Come on Cat….” The last words were addressed to the boy.

He intervened ‘What are you doing ?This doesn’t appear right” She smiled a victorious, but a strange smile “You are welcome to leave handsome. I can handle this on my own” They walked upstairs, into a shabby room. The man promptly got a few beers and disappeared. So did another thousand rupee note. She sat back, gave the boy a beer ,he drank greedily. For a millisecond her eyes softened ‘When did you eat last, boy ?” .He never answered, just sat gulping beer. ‘you know what you are here for, don’t you boy?’ He nodded. He got up, started to take of his clothes. She stopped him. ‘Just lie down. Nothing else ‘’.The boy nodded.

He couldn’t take it any more.’ I am leaving. This is sick’ She shrugged. She went to the boy, stared at him, He was in happyland. Alcohol and drugs. A lethal combination. She went to the boy, and her hands snaked round his throat. Strong, brown, slender killer hands. He watched in horror, riveted to the spot. The boy was dead. To complete the act, she smothered him with the pillow. He couldn’t move speak, or help the boy. The boy didn’t even resist. His eyes stared at her, as if he was thanking her.

.He wondered what to do? Call the police, inform the barman…no, he wouldn’t care. A junkie died!! Overdose. No relatives, no family, no one. Just a druggie who sold his body to satisfy his cravings. Who would care.

Suddenly, he stood riveted, stunned, in shock. She was holding the boy, hugging him, her body racked with deep sobs, her tears flowing endlessly. He felt compelled to offer comfort to a woman who had murdered a man in cold blood. And now sat racking with sobs, hugging his corpse.

“Why are you crying” he stammered. She got up abruptly, and held him tight. ‘That was my little brother. My parents died in penury and shame because of him. I had to kill him, before he was caught by the police, or worse. But I loved him so very much. He was my baby ,my j’aan, my bhai’. Now he is safe.’

All he knew was ,…. he wasn’t.