Without a qualm,she placed the revolver gently on top of the television and switched the TV off.She picked up the pack of cigarettes lying on the table and pulled one out.It was raining outside,she loved rain.
She walked barefoot outside to the balcony and stood just near the end of the shelter,with tips of some strands of her long black hair getting brushed by the raindrops.The anklet resting on the wings of the butterfly, tattoed on her right ankle made a honeyed sound as she moved from one end of the balcony to the other.The smoke voyaged from one end of the cig into the moist air,and she stared at it till its last breath...as though bidding goodbye.With the cigarette almost over, she came inside and stuffed it into the ash tray turned coffee mug.
The mug with a photo of them together.It was a random pic with she, pulling his cheeks to infinity and ,and he, with a expression of fake crying out of the sweet pain.They looked perfect together,she thought.
It had been 4 yrs since they first met.
Garbed in a shiny red frock like frilly dress with a black slacks streched over her perfectly shaped legs,she was practicing her moves backstage.Iterating her pirouettes,her toe slipped on the carpeted floor, and she tripped.
He,behind the drums, saw her big brown eyes going from 'shining with excitement', to 'moronic with nervousness'.
"There..." he streched his hand to pull her up."Its quite a slippery floor here...but its not like that on stage...you'll be fine there".
With an embarrassed smirk on her face,she took his hand and stood up.
Who knew, that hand had to be held for a real long time.
Thereafter,her dance practice ,and his drums sessions, were inevitably followed by things ranging from coffee,to beer,to smoke together.Their passion for music and various other addictions,magnetized their attraction into love,and when together,every other sense in the world,just dwarfed away.
With college getting over,the only way they could manage to stay together was to move in.
'Their' house was a tiny one room kitchen, on one of the many meager streets of Kolkotta.The balcony gave a slight peek into the bumbling act of the city.Furniture was negligible,at a glance,you would see a couple a mattresses and a few handicapped chairs lying around,and a bundle of clothes stacked at 2-3 random corners.She gave comfort to her aesthetic itch by assembling the used beer bottles into weird pieces of art.It was a home that they came back to.It was a home that had a zillion stories to tell.
The red stains on the kitchen floor was a result of his first cooking experiment on her birthday.The scratch on the television ,was what happened when he had not answered her calls for one WHOLE day.The half burnt corner of the curtain,the sketch pen marks on the wall.....gave away that this house had been lived in...loved in.
"Mom and Dad refused....its not gonna happen Zoha...its just not gonna happen"
She stared at him in denial for a while...and then looked away.
"So...what do you want me to cook for dinner today...I am in a pasta mood....watsay??"
Yelling at the top of his voice, he held her with both his hands on her shoulders and shrugged endlessly
"Are you not listening Zoha.....we cannot stay together anymore....I am getting engaged....its the end Zoha...no more dinners together....you eat alone...I eat alone....its over!!OVER!!"
It wasn't sinking in...and he was not going to let it not sink in.
The voices came back to her,loud and clear.She picked the coffee mug heatedly and was about to smash it to the ground,but something stopped her.
She came back to her calm self and, let go off the mug and the umbrage.
The rain was getting harsh,she shut the door to the balcony,and went inside to take a shower.
She came out with a towel wrapped loosely around her lean tired body,and from one of the stacked bundles of clothes took out a RED glittering saree.She wasn't sure how to drape one,but somehow managed to wrap herself in red.She stood in front of the mirror and digged into one of the boxes to find a lipstick.With the bangles,earings and bindi in place,the mirror smiled at her,and she took it as a compliment.
She pulled one end of the saree and ineptly covered her head with it.There was just one thing left....she picked the lipstick again and applied it at the parting of her hair.It was done now,just the way it should be.
She moved towards the TV and turned it on.She picked up the revolver carefully lying next to it.
Sat on the mattress right next to his lifeless body....wrapped one hand around his ...and with the other..shot herself...
She walked barefoot outside to the balcony and stood just near the end of the shelter,with tips of some strands of her long black hair getting brushed by the raindrops.The anklet resting on the wings of the butterfly, tattoed on her right ankle made a honeyed sound as she moved from one end of the balcony to the other.The smoke voyaged from one end of the cig into the moist air,and she stared at it till its last breath...as though bidding goodbye.With the cigarette almost over, she came inside and stuffed it into the ash tray turned coffee mug.
The mug with a photo of them together.It was a random pic with she, pulling his cheeks to infinity and ,and he, with a expression of fake crying out of the sweet pain.They looked perfect together,she thought.
It had been 4 yrs since they first met.
Garbed in a shiny red frock like frilly dress with a black slacks streched over her perfectly shaped legs,she was practicing her moves backstage.Iterating her pirouettes,her toe slipped on the carpeted floor, and she tripped.
He,behind the drums, saw her big brown eyes going from 'shining with excitement', to 'moronic with nervousness'.
"There..." he streched his hand to pull her up."Its quite a slippery floor here...but its not like that on stage...you'll be fine there".
With an embarrassed smirk on her face,she took his hand and stood up.
Who knew, that hand had to be held for a real long time.
Thereafter,her dance practice ,and his drums sessions, were inevitably followed by things ranging from coffee,to beer,to smoke together.Their passion for music and various other addictions,magnetized their attraction into love,and when together,every other sense in the world,just dwarfed away.
With college getting over,the only way they could manage to stay together was to move in.
'Their' house was a tiny one room kitchen, on one of the many meager streets of Kolkotta.The balcony gave a slight peek into the bumbling act of the city.Furniture was negligible,at a glance,you would see a couple a mattresses and a few handicapped chairs lying around,and a bundle of clothes stacked at 2-3 random corners.She gave comfort to her aesthetic itch by assembling the used beer bottles into weird pieces of art.It was a home that they came back to.It was a home that had a zillion stories to tell.
The red stains on the kitchen floor was a result of his first cooking experiment on her birthday.The scratch on the television ,was what happened when he had not answered her calls for one WHOLE day.The half burnt corner of the curtain,the sketch pen marks on the wall.....gave away that this house had been lived in...loved in.
"Mom and Dad refused....its not gonna happen Zoha...its just not gonna happen"
She stared at him in denial for a while...and then looked away.
"So...what do you want me to cook for dinner today...I am in a pasta mood....watsay??"
Yelling at the top of his voice, he held her with both his hands on her shoulders and shrugged endlessly
"Are you not listening Zoha.....we cannot stay together anymore....I am getting engaged....its the end Zoha...no more dinners together....you eat alone...I eat alone....its over!!OVER!!"
It wasn't sinking in...and he was not going to let it not sink in.
The voices came back to her,loud and clear.She picked the coffee mug heatedly and was about to smash it to the ground,but something stopped her.
She came back to her calm self and, let go off the mug and the umbrage.
The rain was getting harsh,she shut the door to the balcony,and went inside to take a shower.
She came out with a towel wrapped loosely around her lean tired body,and from one of the stacked bundles of clothes took out a RED glittering saree.She wasn't sure how to drape one,but somehow managed to wrap herself in red.She stood in front of the mirror and digged into one of the boxes to find a lipstick.With the bangles,earings and bindi in place,the mirror smiled at her,and she took it as a compliment.
She pulled one end of the saree and ineptly covered her head with it.There was just one thing left....she picked the lipstick again and applied it at the parting of her hair.It was done now,just the way it should be.
She moved towards the TV and turned it on.She picked up the revolver carefully lying next to it.
Sat on the mattress right next to his lifeless body....wrapped one hand around his ...and with the other..shot herself...
