by Faraaz Kazi
Abhijit's eyes switched to the huge dog that was staring back with baleful yellow eyes. Yes, there was something familiar about these three. Had he seen them somewhere? Or imagined them? They did seem to belong together! He was almost there. The feeling in the back of his mind was pushed ahead by the fear that shook his body. He closed his eyes and thought hard. Abhijit had a sudden flash of clairvoyance. “You are all from Thirteen, the lead story from my last book. You are Akash, she is Nandini and the dog is Tiger. ”
The woman shook with delirious laughter. “The genius has understood at last. Now we'll show him. We'll do to him everything he did to us in that book,” She looked at the dog. “Go Tiger!”
The dog growled, reared up and shot forward at Abhijit. He bit him hard on the ankle even as Abhijit tried to back off in the chair. A piercing bolt of pain shot through his calf as he remembered that Thirteen'sstory began with Nandini's dog biting Akash.
“How does that feel, Abhijit?” Akash taunted. “How does it feel to be treated the same way you treat your characters?”
Abhijit fought against the rising panic. 'This cannot happen. This is impossible. I must be dreaming,' he thought even as he willed himself to snap out of the nightmare.
“This is actually happening! You are not getting off that easily, Mr. Bestseller,” Nandini said amused.
“No way, you can read my mind!” Abhijit whispered as his lean muscles strained against his skin.
“Yes, I can! Don't you know that I live in it? That is where I was born… my birthplace… my sick birthplace,” Nandini groaned.
“All of you are my creations. You will listen to me and go away!” Abhijit shouted.
“Not this time, Abhijit Mukherjee. We have come here with only one purpose. Revenge!” Nandini hissed. “You have created and left us in the timeless labyrinth of human imagination, where we live forever. You have given me a tortured existence. Every time a new reader goes through your book, I suffer all the unspeakable indignities you devised for me. And it never ends. Someone somewhere is always reading you, making me go through the perpetual torture that you have inflicted upon me. And now I am here. I will make you suffer like you have made me ever since you wrote that infernal book of yours.”
“This is not possible. I am going crazy!”Abhijit thought.
“No, you are not,” Nandini said, after reading his mind again. “Yes! You may find refuge in insanity by the time I am through with you. Or you may not. In fact, I have not even decided what to do with you. But I know where to start.”
She advanced towards the table, her eyes blazing with malevolence. “Damn!” Abhijit thought. “How the hell could I create such a crazy character?”
Nandini picked up the half opened pack of cigarettes, extracted one, and lit it up using his lighter. She then blew a puff of smoke in his face.
“You can't… you can't do that. You don't smoke!” Abhijit blurted.
“Yes, I can and I will, Mr. Bestseller. You see, this is not your script anymore. We are independent entities and we don't take orders,” she snarled and looked at the scarred man. “Now Akash darling, will you be a good boy and take off this nice warm shirt Mr. Bestseller is wearing?”
Akash stepped forward, caught his shirt by the collars and ripped it off without much ceremony. His long nails scratched Abhijit's chest, leaving three burning red lines on either side. Abhijit strained and shook the chair but the invisible ropes held him tight, rooting him to his place.
Nandini walked over to him, took a deep drag on the cigarette, removed it from her lips and crushed the glowing end against his now bare chest. The smell of singed human flesh mixed with that of burning tobacco and Abhijit felt pain beyond anything he had ever imagined kick his neurons.
“Stop… please stop …” he screamed.
“Not so easily. Let them come too. Let your other creations from the book come and see your fate. Let them take their revenge too… Come you all,” Nandini thundered, making the house sway to her vent. And then with tearful eyes, Abhijit watched in mute revulsion as the ceiling cracked and out tumbled macabre wraiths in the room with a vicious smile on their bloodthirsty faces. The walls trembled as a huge hairy beast with a large horn on its snout rammed against the house assaulting the age-old creation as it entered the room. All the windows of the room flew open, their latches flying in the sudden force of the cold wind as transparent spirits floated around emitting a deathly glow from their essence. The rooms above flew open, their doors crashing to the floor as creatures with green bulbous heads crawled towards the room, exploring the air ahead with the darting tongues. Abhijit thought he saw a blur of a shadow shoot past him and as it came to a halt in a corner, he released his bladder on seeing the long curving teeth on that pale handsome face. And then the ground exploded as the dead rose from the deep confines of the ground, looking intently at a shaking Abhijit as they dragged their limp legs, pointing an accusing finger at him. The worms on their bodies detached to fall on the ground and made their way towards him, crawling all over his body, nibbling at his flesh. They were joined by the vermin that appeared out of nowhere along with the bats, the wolves and the owls.
“You don't like this, bestselling author. But you have seen nothing yet. Let me remind you how the story ended,” Nandini laughed out loudly, making the structure shudder with the dripping force evil.
Abhijit's heart gave a terrified lurch as the climax of his last work came back to his mind where Akash had broken into Nandini's bedroom, tied her up, tortured her with cigarette burns, raped her in the dead of the night before murdering and dumping her body six feet beneath the earth.
“I wake up and nothing's much different. Everything's gone sepia, a dirty bourbon glass by the bed, you're
still dead.
I could stumble
to the shower;
scrub the luck of breath off my skin but it's futile.
The killer always wins. It's just a matter
of time.
And I have
time. I have grief and liquor to
fill it. Tonight, the liquor and I are
talking to you. The liquor says, 'remember'
and I fill in the rest, your hands, your smile.
All those times. Remember.”
—Daphne Gottlieb
The Lady In The Pub
I
t was the last day of the month of Ramadan, the time I was waiting for was getting closer. For thirty days, I had been fasting, praying and abstaining from all kind of sins that I would normally indulge in. Ammi never allowed me to skip fasts even if I faked an illness and Abba would never fail to drag me to the mosque during the thirty days.
Being a fresh unemployed graduate was not much of a help either as I had to hog their taunts in addition to their orders. Frankly speaking, I couldn't stay hungry for long. When Ammi was not around, I would stuff my mouth with sweets that were reserved for the evening iftaar and wolf them down with gulps of cold water from the refrigerator. When she would come back to check on me, I would pretend to act like the pot-bellied, malnourished kids from Africa they showed on NatGeo.
“At least, fast with conviction. Have faith in Allah, Salim. Don't fret and complain. Ramadan comes once in a year. We should ask for pardon and pray that Allah gives us the strength to walk on the path of righteousness,” Ammi would say, heralding the onslaught of a long lecture.
“It's time for prayers, Salim. Get up from the bed, freshen up and join me now. See there goes the azaan…” Abba would shout the same thing five times every day.
But with the thirty days coming to an end, I could just about manage to put my life back on track again. I was counting down the seconds as my family sat down overlooking Eid preparations for the next day when my cell phone rang.
“Chand Mubarak, Salim,” my best friend, Jigar greeted. “Yeah, thanks. What's up?” I managed.
“We're on our way to Running Water, the new pub in the
suburbs. It is said to be one of the hippiest p
laces to be on a weekend. Want to join?” he asked.
“Nah, I can't. One more night to go,” I said in a resigned voice.
“Oh, alright. Let's make it tomorrow. The weekend will be on,” he replied. I know he wouldn't go to a new place without me.
“I can hardly wait. Heard it is flaunted by the hottest chicks in town and the whacky DJ plays some fundoo tracks,” I said imagining the ambience that I had been missing for the past one month.
“You bet, dude. See you around tomorrow night,” Jigar said and disconnected.
Sleep eluded me that night as I dreamt with open eyes of the life I was about to experience again from the next day.
The occasion of Eid is a major affair in Muslim households. Nothing can beat the taste of mother's hand-cooked biryani and the aroma of delicious sheerkurma prepared in milk and laced with vermicelli and dry-fruits.
“Ammi, I am going out. Will come back late,” I informed as soon as the invited uncles and their families left for their respective homes after savoring multiple helpings of the biryani for dinner.
The Other Side
123
“Salim, Ramadhan just got over and you're back to your old habits,” Ammi admonished.
“Whatever, Ammi! See you tomorrow,” I waved, grabbing my jacket and the bike keys. By the time I came back, I knew they would be asleep. When I had started going out for the night in my college days, there had been a huge uproar in my house. I had a tough time convincing my parents that the world was changing and it was only normal for people to hang out in 'cool places.'
Their only perception of such places was of young people smoking joints and boozing till they dropped on pavements or banged someone with their vehicles on the road. They had a nagging suspicion that I might be into such habits as well. Not that their fears were misplaced but I usually managed to keep it away from them. On nights, when I would be too tight to drive, I would drop in at Jigar's place. He stayed alone in a two-bedroom apartment and his house was a haven for boozing and making out with the chicks we would pick up at night clubs. And I surely hoped tonight was going to be THE night.
In fact, I was reasonably confident that tonight was going to be a night like no other. The real fun of any indulgence comes after depriving yourself of it and then soaking in the feeling all of a sudden. I had restrained myself for a full thirty days and I couldn't control myself any longer to touch my lips to the whisky glass, feel the thumping music and ogle at the girls in the minis.
I reached Running Water at around 11 in the night and parked the bike in the reserved area opposite a small paan-beedishop. For a moment, I guffawed looking at the Bihari paanwaalah and wondered about the decision to allow such a petty shop to operate in front of one of the most happening clubs in the city. I noticed the paanwaalah looking at me and smiling in a display of his redstained teeth. I ignored the idiot and called up Jigar, waiting to abuse him for not being on the assigned spot at the given time. Usually the practice of coming in late was reserved for me but post these thirty days of abstinence, I could not even think of doing that crime. The bell rang at the other end but Jigar didn't answer my call. I tried again. Same thing.
In the next half an hour, I tried his number around forty times and only once did I receive a response and that too from the mechanical voice informing me that the number was unavailable. Jigar did not answer the rings, nor did he return the call.
I had just dumped the cell phone into my pocket when the skies opened up and thick droplets of rain drenched me in no time. My jacket had no hood and I never carried an umbrella, so I did the only sensible thing and entered the pub.
“To hell with Jigar, let him come. Will teach him a lesson in waiting,” I said out aloud to no one in particular and proceeded to the door. The tall bouncer barricading my entry, stamped my wrist with the pub's stag signature after I had paid the cover charge. The first thing that hit me about the place was the ambience, there was dark written all over it. Pubs are supposed to be dark but this place was almost black. Even the walls were painted black with some obscure fluorescent designs that seemed to fill the place with a strange glow. The place was packed with people letting themselves loose on a weekend night. The music was hurting my ears in a pleasure through pain sort of manner. I guessed it must be the effect of coming back to such loud exposure after long. Instinctively, my body started to move to the rhythm and my head bounced to the beats.
The Other Side
125
I decided to reserve my moves for later and walked over to the inviting scene of the bar in the far left corner. Pushing and shoving half-naked bodies aside, I grabbed a circular table towards the end and wheeled around fancifully.
“One vodka, shaken, not stirred,” I shouted to the bald bartender with piercings. He eyed me in a weird manner before I winked at him and added, “Regular Smirnoff, man!” He displayed his teeth and nodded in approval.
A couple of minutes later, I tasted relief and sighed, arching my head backwards.
“One more,” I ordered and repeated the same at an interval of five minutes. Four shots later, I shook my head as if in a daze. I could pretty much hold my senses even after six but I had been out of practice for some days so I decided to halt for some time. I walked to the loo to relieve myself, my body still shaking to the music. I was hoping Jigar would come soon so that we could get down to cracking jokes and laughing at stupid things. I dialed his number but the fool still didn't respond. I was sure he had drunk too much and fallen asleep on the couch before leaving for the pub.
I thought I would drown one last drink and made my way to my seat. To my surprise, it was occupied by a lady.
“Excuse me, that's my seat,” I said, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
She either did not hear me or pretended not to.
“Lady, that's my seat you've taken,” I shouted over the din.
She turned her head to look at me. I heaved a deep sigh of appreciation. Even in the darkness, I could tell she was beautiful beyond description. Her eyes made me falter for a moment. Silently, she pointed to the seat to her left, the last seat was empty and hidden from view and in my drunken walk, I had not noticed.
“Oh sorry,” I apologized and climbed on the revolving disc of the chair.
She did not reply but went back to staring down, looking lost in her thoughts. I checked her out in detail. Till then, I had just been looking at her face but the moment I soaked in her attire, I suppressed a threatening bout of laughter. The girl was young and beautiful but she was wearing a salwar-suit covering all her skin almost. I wondered whether I had seen any girl dressed like this in the countless pubs I had visited. The answer was a convincing NO. Shaking my head and stifling a chuckle, I turned to look at her face and then the second surprise registered.
Thick tears were making their way down her fair face one after the other but the girl didn't even acknowledge their presence. She was silently crying, comfortable in her own space. Her attire had turned me off her but something inside me made me approach her.
The Other Side
127
“Anything wrong?” I asked, tapping her hand. Her skin was cold and my fingers felt like they were being immersed in Arctic waters. I guessed the air-conditioning was too strong for frail people like her. She seemed to ignore me, so I repeated the question a little more politely. No response again.
“Had a fight with your guy?” I asked shifting a little closer and almost immediately she turned her head. Gosh, she had arresting eyes. She glared at me, warning-like and then seemed to relax.
“What's your name?” I asked. She ignored me again. I wasn't the kind who gave up so easily.
“Anyway, my name is Salim,” I introduced in my most
impressive tone.
She rolled her eyes upon hearing that. For the first time, she smiled. Her smile was by far the best feature about her, soft red lips parting to reveal perfect white dentures.
“What's your name?” I asked again, signaling for
a drink. “Aarusha, you can call me Aaru,” she said offering her hand. She seemed warm then and her touch gave me a comfortable feeling.
“Oh, you were so cold earlier but… I guess they must have increased the temperature of this place as the rainy night sets in… or is it just me?” I switched mid-way sensing an opportunity to flirt. Her cheeks changed colour on hearing that and I nodded, gratified.
“Drink,” I offered as soon as the next shot came in. “No, thank you. I don't drink,” she said.
“Coke?” I asked.
“No, I'm fine. Thanks,” she said, placing her palm on my hand.
I didn't want to force her so I shut my eyes and drowned the drink in one go. When I opened them, she wasn't on her seat. I stood up and saw around but failed to spot her. I scanned the crowd and immediately my eyes focused on her in the dancing lights, thanks to her attire.
I pushed my way through the mass of bodies and intercepted her.
“Hey, going already? The party has just begun,” I said. She just smiled and toyed with the corner of her dupatta.
“Care to join me for a little gig?” I asked extending my hand. She did not reply but placed her hand in mine and I pulled her back, showcasing some moves on the way. We joined the crowd as a new track bombed in our ears. I found her slow yet graceful in her movements. Ignoring the music, we just danced for fun. I heard her laugh for the first time as I did a Mithun-like push of the hip. I held her hand and pulled her close, her face an inch from mine. Not many times I would look a girl in the eye but with Aarusha, it was different. I just could not take my eyes off her. I erased the inch of a distance by placing my lips on hers, my breath striking the scent of roses. I ran my hand through her curls, the fragrance of which was like that of the first rains, pleasant and earthy.
I parted her lips, trying to absorb her in. I could almost feel her petite breasts rubbing on my chest. My hands hugged her waist, pulling her closer. Abruptly she pulled back from me and stared into my eyes. The tears were resurfacing.