Love of my Life

You are so beautiful
you blow the stars away
their million dots of light
before you, pale away

you will be one of them
the sun of my night sky
as I look up to see
you twinkling at me, do you see?
Oh do you see me?

oh will you come to me
oh the love of my life
oh will you stay with me
oh till the end of time

My eyes are open, what a world I see
As beautiful or treacherous as I want it to be
I know not who you are
I seek, how? -I don’t care
Trouble waiting at every turn
beating drums with much fanfare

Milling crowds part, I see her not yet
But the love of my life, I know, is there.

I was walking alone on lovers’ lane

Do all engineering colleges with hostels have lover/lovers’ lanes ? Is it ironic that the desire of administration to separate boys and girls hostels has created this mushy zone on one of the adjoining roads leading to the girls block?

If you are caught walking on the lovers’ Lane for the first time with someone it’s a rage. Not if you’re with a guy, or gay, either way really. But if you’re not with someone you avoid the lane because who needs that!

Every college usually has a library unless they are not really a college. Many colleges get by putting a few computers in an ac room and calling it an online library. What is really important is what the libraries are really used for, the days of passing notes are gone, it’s graphic scenes plus behind the stacks action. The racks are sturdy as they are old but not the racks that are usually put on them.

One evening while trying hard to cram his stubborn brain before impending exams,  the soft sound porn action started from behind the stacks. Firoz slammed his book and raced out, running back towards the hostels. He was ruing the fact that everyone did not have exams like he did and how he would most definitely ask Nisha all the answers, at least the multiple choice ones when he realized he had reached the lovers’ lane.

He slowed down to a walk so as to not alarm the couples nestling in the shadows. He started thinking about the last exam where he had been able to show her the answer to one question. He had felt particularly proud when she had thanked him later. He was uncomfortable having to change sides of the road based on the number of shadows on the footpath on each side. Is there a rule to not light lovers Lanes properly or is it a requirement in choosing?
Firoz was thinking how nice it’d be if he could one of the shadows on the footpath. Maybe Nisha will agree to go out for coffee after the exam. Firoz shook his head at the embarrassing thought, already judging himself in that moment when she says no. But a flicker of hope remained, what if?

He had almost cleared the stretch when he heard his name being called out and was startled for a bit. Jashi and farooque, His clasmates were calling him from the shadows. He walked up to them, whispering – “what are you guys doing here?”
Jashi said, “its a moonlit night , we are here to see tarey zameen par. ”
Farooque asked ” what are u doing here? I thought you went to the library?”

That was when Firoz heard the laugh. He knew that laugh well enough and it was coming from his right, beyond the end of the lover lane. He turned to his friends and said, “well the evening show is too loud there… I gotta run”.
He wanted to go ask her a tiny doubt that he had carefully underlined in the book and slide in a question about whether she’d be busy after the exam. Smooth and simple.

He could barely make out her shape in the darkness but could hear her. Suddenly he was face to face with her as she almost collided with him.
“Hey…” She exclaimed to which Firoz said “Nisha will you let me …. kapi your answers tomorrow?”
She said “sure… you too” and smiled and walked on, holding hands with the boy, right on to lover lane.

What started out as a wish to ask will you have coffee with me tomorrow ended up changed in the asking because Firoz saw who was standing next to her. Karan, her brother from final year.

He’ll ask her after the exam. He was reasonably certain she’d say yes with no proof either way. The moon was especially bright after that, though his brain wasn’t , in the next day’s exam I.e .

What should I call you?(required)

How to reach you?(required)

What do you have to say about this awesome post?(required)

Submit

Δ

The Bird in the Cage – II

These are the links to the first and second parts of this story.

The Girl in the Room Above

The Bird in the Cage-I

Read on…
———————————————————————————————————————

Ghoom was cursing the rain-gods, one by one, in chaste sanskrit while he squinted, trying and failing to pierce the sheets of falling rain, honking to voice his frustration and give straining accompaniment to his spiteful chanting. His scooter emitted a series of croaks not unlike a sickly crow and was quickly drowned in the sound of distant thunder. All around him other vehicles were adding their own music into the cacophony. It was a horrible tuesday morning because nobody expected it to rain this late in the season. This bridge always jams up when it rains. Various rumours surrounding the cause of the jam were circulating in the crowd. Some said an overloaded truck had over-turned ahead, others vowed they heard other people say there was a double bull-fight going on right in the middle of the square ahead. Believers in the four-bull theory laughed at the others and vice versa.

After hours – minutes measured relativistically – of squinting into the rain with a furrowed brow, Ghoom did not manage to stop the rain, or even see an inch further, but the grumbling line of vehicles started moving. But only in the opposite direction. Ghoom stopped muttering angrily for a second while he digested the fact that the opposite line had cleared, then he laughed long and like a maniac, only to end in gasping sobs and tears. People around him had started laughing at him.
This is when Ghoom felt it. He felt a tugging at the back of his tongue which was very uncomfortable and caused him to tumble off his scooter. He staggered to the thin sidewalk on the bridge, grasping at his neck. Just when people around him noticed the fallen scooter and the gasping man near the railing, they saw him yank his own collar up and half-jump, half-pull himself off the bridge. By the time the few people who saw this ran over to the edge and looked down, all they could see were swirling sheets of rain below.

The dichotomy of birth and death united in non-being

Ram finally got up from his bed after minutes – hours measured relativistically – of staring into the rain. By the miracle of cyclonic weather, the sky was alternating between light and dark and lightening often streaked through the shifting balance. The multi-flash of a strike seemed him to flash-freeze billions of drops of water in the sky, warning by intensity of their light to shield his ears from the deafening thunderclaps. The undulating sunlight crafted a million tiny rainbows through these drops in his eyes and he just sat there, mesmerized by the power and beauty of the thunderstorm outside. Ram could sit here all day, feeling the rain lashing on his windows and walls, cleansing in their constant loud noise. He usually felt like he was in a trance when he was focusing hard on something but this was something different. This felt like getting into the trance and going surfing on a stormy sea at the same time, exhilarating and humbling at once.

When he did get up, it was because his grumbling stomach conquered his mind and he suddenly felt like poaching some eggs.  He was humming a song to himself while he set up the coffee-maker and heated the pan for the eggs. He was at peace with himself while he split the eggs, sprinkled the chili powder and salt, as the coffee-maker purred while brewing. He picked up an old magazine from the rack next to the washing machine and tucked it under his arm. Whistling loudly (and tunelessly) to himself, he poured himself a mug of coffee and picked it up with one hand while holding the plate of hot steaming poached eggs and slices of bread lathered with butter. Thinking to himself that he must not drop anything and smiling for having thought of that he set out to enjoy his brunch in the hall. But when he turned right into the hallway he abruptly stopped whistling. The plate dropped from his hand and the coffee mug tilted, just as his mouth opened slowly, pouring hot coffee over the floor and his feet. His face screwed up in a silent scream but not from the hot coffee scalding his feet. He saw in front of him, standing in front of the t.v, swishing its tail and tapping its hooves, a shiny black headless horse.

The Bird in the Cage

This is the link to the first part of the story –The Girl in the Room Above

I highly recommend that you read it. If you are short for time, I have decided to show my appreciation for you having read so far, by giving you a quick recap of part-one – Ram and Ghoom, Friends and Co-workers – See a girl eating Puchkas – Ram is smitten and almost run over – Ghoom saves him, is relieved and hungry.
Read on…
————————————————————————————————————————-

Suresh walked in and pulled the shades are up, flinching at the sudden brightness. The music was playing at a reasonable volume and he knew both of them had slept really late. They needed to be up for work though and it was his job to kick their ass. Raju was flitting about in front of the mirror on the almirah, alternating between comb and gel. Kamal came in and winked at Suresh, intending to pull his leg.

Kamal – “Mat jaa Raju, yeh movie mat dekh” < Don’t go watch this movie Raju>
Suresh – “Haan bey, isme to koi thik thak ladki bhi nahi hai, maal toh door ki baat.” < Yeah man, There’s no decent actress as well, forget a hot one>
Kamal – “same old story, boy looking for girl, not finding..”
Suresh -“It’s not even worth a spoiler alert, with the mindless spineless happy-ending”
Kamal – “haan, horror hota, toh baat kuch aur thi” <Yeah, it was another matter if it was horror>
Suresh – “ho bhi sakta hai, agar ladki iska haat na pakde to” <It could still be horror, if the girl doesnt hold his hand>
Peals of laughter rang out through the room as Raju gave both of them dirty looks.

Raju – Abbey kamino, time kitna hua hai?! < Yo bastards, what’s the time?>
Ghoom – Time hai boss, tumhare liye time hai. < There is time boss, there is time for you (yet)>
“Oh, so you are awake is it?” snorted Kamal, trying to get a hold on to Ghoom’s blanket.
Raju – Dekh Mazak mat kar, jaa raha hoon main. < Dude, don’t mess with me now, I’m going to leave>
Kamal – Abey saale, yeh remote hamesha living room se aake tere bed pe tere gaand ke neeche se kyon milta hai?!”
<Man, Why is the remote always missing from the living room and to be found beneath your ass?>

One is dragging the blanket while the man on the bed tries to gather it around himself while getting up.

Ghoom – “abbey gay hai kya?” <Are you Gay man?>
Kamal – “tu bata, chaddi me sota hai, aur remote gaand ke neeche” < You say, Sleeping in underwear with a remote under the ass>
Ghoom – “le mar” < go die>

Ghoom staggered to the bathroom, barely clutching the sheet and his modesty in one hand and scratching his head in slow sloth like movement with the other.Kamal tried and failed to yank his red underwear peeping out, while Suresh laughed, sitting near Ram on his bed. Amir, coming out of the bathroom with his brush in his mouth smirked at the scene and slouched out of the room, leaving the door wide open. Raju followed, after one last look in the mirror. Ram and Ghoom’s room opened into a corridor. The kitchen was immediately to the right and two more rooms opened to the left further down. Every room had an attached bathroom but amir liked to use the spacious bathroom that came with the master suite.He stayed with Raju in the room opposite the kitchen. Kamal and Suresh stayed in the room next to the living room.The L-shaped living room was sparsely furnished though it had couches around the breadth and a tv directly in line with the corridor facing Ram and Ghoom’s room.The door to their 3 room apartment opened at the far end of the living room, though a large number of shoes, sandals and chappals had encroached a lot of the living room itself.

“Really, horror to tab hoga agar ladki turns out to be ugly and dumb, or a cruel bitch – Raju bichara bhola bhala will get snagged by make up. Apne doodhwali pe fida tha ye ek mahine pehle.” said Kamal

“makes sense. Though who says doodhwali anymore? ” said Suresh, laughing.
“You think the doodhwali is hot?” asked Kamal , half smiling
“yeah, she has that, you know, doodhwali figure”, replied Suresh, smiling broadly as he got up to leave the room.

“hang on!”, Shouted Kamal just as Suresh was closing an open almirah door to walk around Ghoom’s bed, as if he had spotted something.
“Yeh almirah door zara turn karna… hold it”, he said, craning his neck down on the pillow on the bed.

He then switched on the remote and the tv in the living room turned on.
“Acha toh sahabji raat ko tv dekhte hain baithke roompe” <Oh, so the dufus watches tv here at night>, Kamal exclaimed suspiciously. They could both see the tv in the living room reflected off the strategically positioned mirrored almirah door.

“But who watches cartoon network on mute, after midnight?” , interjected Suresh. Kamal unmuted and hit the “dvd” button. A paused and distorted video came up. Just as he hit “play”, the door to the bathroom opened and Ghoom stepped out of the bathroom and saw both Kamal and Suresh staring at his almirah, open-mouthed. Just as his sleepy morning head realised that Kamal was holding the remote in his hand and he could hear the sweet but urgent sound of love making. Just then two things happened, Suresh burst out laughing so hard that he fell on top of the sleeping Ram. Ghoom launched himself, Chaddi, chappal and all towards the remote. Kamal, thinking Ghoom was lunging at him – which might have been a smart thing to think – swerved and dropped the remote. Theweight of Ghoom landing on it, belly first, was too much for the remote. His tummy had managed to press the power button before crushing the remote however so all was silent with the tv and Kamal had escaped entirely untouched. Suresh was now laughing so hard that his face was red. The situation at that instant could have been entirely avoided if Ghoom had just turned the almirah door and walked to the tv and switched it off, but he had to jump on the bed and this was just one time too many for the poor old wooden thing. It crumpled, slowly as if protesting, but not so slowly as to allow a man of Ghoom’s size to avoid going down with it.Ghoom crashed right onto the floor amidst a rumble of timber . Suresh was now laughing so hard, he was emitting no sound, but he was rolling around on Ram. Kamal was bent over, one arm pointing at the prostrate Ghoom, laughingso hard that his other hand had to grip his side.

Ram finally got up, took one look at the scene, and said, “Kitni baar kahaa hai pendrive lele. aise dvd lagake tv pe kab tak dekhega?”< How many times have I told you to get a pendrive. How long will you watch all this on tv>

A gust of cold air swept in through the open window and rushed through the room to the corridor. It brought with it the smell of wet earth and freshly muddled puddles of water. Kamal and Suresh checked if Ghoom was alright before leaving for work. Amir and Raju had already left. Ram watched the road ten floors below and had a curious smile on his face, which steadily grew more grim as he watched the skies darken. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Ghoom get ready for work too. Within minutes drops the size of marbles started raining down on the street below and the wind drove enough of it inside the room to force Ram to close the window.

“Aren’t you coming”? asked Ghoom.
“No, I think I’ll just stay home today”, replied Ram, staring into the street through an opening in the window.
Ghoom sighed and Ram turned to look at him.
“Ill have to get a new bed today” said Ghoom smiling goofily.
“Don’t forget the pendrive” offered Ram, smiling widely.

But when Ghoom was gone and he was alone, Ram was not smiling anymore. If it was raining, there will be no puchka sellers on the street. How was he supposed to know where to meet her? Because it had to be today…

What do I call you?(required)

How do I get back to you?(required)

Website

What say, eh?(required)

Yes, I would read the next part.

Submit

Δ

The Girl in the Room Above

This was first put up here – The Girl in the Room Above

——————————–

The jalebis were really good. Ram always felt blissful after gagging on sweets, especially when he is just returning from his coaching class, particularly when its at jhambhai’s stall around the corner. Chai with a smoke while discussing antics of the more-informed during class and samosey jalebi to round it up; This often took about thirty minutes, by then the girls evening college would be over and the walk back home was all the more enjoyable.

Shit, I have to light this cigarette. My hands are all sticky, get this one in my right pocket will you?

Ram, who was spying the girl with the brown hair standing at the puchka stall with her gang of friends, out of the corner of his eyes while they walked, tore his glance away, half-irritated.

Why don’t you just wipe ur hand with tissue like everyone else? He snapped, taking out his friends cigarette and handing it to him along with the lighter.

I don’t like tissues, they are unhealthy. I like to use the basin.

Yeah right, it is much healthier walking off with syrupy hands.” He was back to the girl who was now leaning into a huddle.

It’s alright to let the germs multiply a bit more and then destroy them with strong handwash, than to wipe them and think they are dead, when they actually aren’t.

The girls were possibly sharing something secret and funny, because she then threw her head back and laughed. It was like the sound of controlled mirth mixed with conspiratorial elation – he could see her clutch at the girl next to her shaking with laughter and her hair bouncing on her back.

Oh the sound of it! Ram was now almost looking behind him, slowing down his gait and listening, mesmerized by her voice.He noticed she was wearing a white and green churidar with mirrored chunri and she was taller than most of the rest of them. He couldn’t recognize seeing anyone her size before on the street at this time.

Ghoom saw Ram stopping and looked around, blowing a thin white trail of smoke from the side of his mouth.

She’s new” he said, squinting to take a better look. Yes, I don’t know that figure.

Broken from his trance, ram looked around, scowling at his friend, I know she is new, Now can we walk?

Ghoom smirked, smiling as he took a puff, as they continued walking, before one of the girls noticed. They knew the college entrance was usually in September, new faces were common then, but ram knew that he had never heard a clearer voice – something like the sound of tinkling glass heard over a lake on a moonlit night – this voice was something new entirely, if not anything else. She was new, yes.

Abey I have to go finish the song man! Tomorrow morning I’ll have to go in early to office. CTB is having a meeting – to discuss objectives! Ghoom said, snorting. As if we don’t have enough of them! Even without half the deadlines being met.

Ram’s project was going well, he was confident his objectives were being completely met. Even in their current half-baked state. There was nothing worry about office, so why was he stopping to this about his yellow tongued boss? He turned to see her but she was already walking away with her friends.

Man, there were so many of them, but he had eyes for only one. He knew he was going to dream about the mirrors on her dupatta, which was swishing all over the place, so she had to halt and hold it in place. Then she took it off and slung it across her neck while holding one end to flick across her shoulder. He was watching her hair blow behind her head, her brow slightly furrowed in mild irritation – mostly in his imagination, because he couldn’t see that far too good in the fast dimming of the sun – as her mirrors spun a wide arc catching the last rays and sparkling and she faced her front and ran her fingers over her ear tucking her unruly hair. At that moment when her friends had also stopped waiting on her and Ghoom was starting to realize that ram was not walking along with him, ram had turned and was standing in the middle of the road just looking back at her.

The car came out of nowhere but thankfully Ghoom saw who was standing in its path. Ram heard his name being called out and was about to shout out something incoherent when he felt something loud and fat collide with him sideways and he fell, but all he could see was her, turning around hearing the squealing brakes, curious to see if it was an accident. He landed on the ground and had all breath knocked out of him by the same fat, still loud body. By the time he could get up he saw a rapidly disintegrating crowd because he was unhurt, but he could not find what his eyes were looking for. Sighing, he turned to see Ghoom holding up a man by his collar – presumably the driver.  He turned around again and looked in the direction she went, content to know that she was somewhere there and from there she will come here, to her college again, maybe then he will go talk to her and somehow her friends will not be listening. Tomorrow it will have to be!

Wham! Ram was almost knocked down by a blow to his back and turned around to see livid Ghoom trying to formulate words.
You!… stupid!! … mental!…bas.. loverboy!! Come lets go home fast! I’m hungry!

Rubbing his back , Ram grimaced and fell in step with his angry and hungry comrade.
Then he smirked.

What are you smirking about, loverboy!  – Ghoom was lighting a cigarette.

She wont certainly have puchka tomorrow also right?

ghoom just stared back at him, taking a long first drag.

oh hey! Now you can get your own cigarette eh?

ya, I cleaned my hands on the driver’s collar.

They both looked at each other and laughed. For a short time, before ghoom remembered his doomed project and laughed some more.

——-
To be continued …

Miss eries syla

Dude, It’s high time we did something with our free time?

You mean, all the time we sit around, watching youtube videos and old blues videos?

yeah, and the smoking time.

you want quit that too?

No, I mean, we should do something useful with it.

Like what? <coughing, before passing it>

How hard is it to write a sitcom?

<keeling over laughing> yeah.. we are.. all in a dramatic .. fucking .. sitcom ourselves. It could just be about us. 

You mean nothing. Seinfeld already did the show about nothing. The lazy bastard.

Haha, yeah. So what then.

Let’s see…

———————————-

man, that’s the perfect ending.

wow, totally awe in fucking spiring man! but wait, where are we going to start?

Well.. we have to sell it mr. Verma first. He is the selector for the next season. We’re fortunate my uncle knows a maid who had once worked with verma’s son-in-law’s house. He got us an interview.

How does your uncle know the maid? Is he the widowed uncle or the divorced one again?

The divorced one, Lord!! How does that matter? why is this relevant? We have to convince verma that the pilot is going to blow everyone’s mind. Not that commy conformist all-is-well propaganda shit, but real television!

yeah!! I mean, i agree about new age television branding, but real television?!! Don’t you think that’s cliched? Maybe even presumptuous?

I don’t mean branding lorjan, Lord!! Help me! I am surrounded by fools! Here I am talking about real television living symbiotically with the temperature of cohesiveness and these producers, advertisers, cro-magnons…

Careful, I am writing the screenplay with you,

as your agent keeps reminding me, yes. Why do you have an agent? You have this single contract because i hired you!

he said you would say that <sniffing>

__________________________

<ding dong> <ding dong>

Hey!! you came!! I thought paris was the last we would see each other!! come on in man!.. and lady.

Of course I came! as you said, I’m done with Larry and..

Shh.. we’ll talk business later. Who is this fine young woman?

She’s layla. We met on the plane!

You lucky bastard. <I and Layla laugh>

—————————

You’re sure you’re over her? 

Yeah, man! I met syla too! I mean, she’s in spain doing her gymnastics but I’ll visit her.. next summer.

cool. ‘Cos Layla and I…

what?

We’re thinking of moving in together.

Oh. Cool man <passing it>

——————-

The day is a beautiful one
bright sun upon azure sea
lying, with drink upon balcony
in shade, with a loving one
eyes closed and a smile put on
for a red sky, to fight, not flee

darling.

<sighing, as if coming out of a reverie> yes, dear. Just finishing up,

Don’t bother getting up. I got you fruits for supper and I am not going to let you worry about lifting your tired fingers yet. I’ll feed you with my own hands.

Oh, how would i ever finish this screenplay without you, Layla!

Shh, How would you eat this grape if it were not being fed to you by a scantily dressed woman who is clearly attracted to you?

wow, you really leave no room for subtext?

I find no use for feelings I’d rather not express directly.

Right.

Now shut up and close your eyes.

Gladly <sighing>

—————————

We’re so over!

I told you so honey! < Syla picks up her glass, goes back to her phone call, but not before interjecting this piece>

Yeah, now that you are not dating  her, you will write at a more reasonable pace and maybe we will make the final deadline in a week.

I’m 100,000 words short.

 

<silence>

 

we’re fucked.

Yeah <dry laugh> we are.

But even if we finish it, turns out she is doing so well at her work they let her lead the new projects division for this year. I don’t think she’ll ever let this be a tv show!

C’mon she is honourable.

man, I dumped her a minute before she found out I was cheating on her with my ex. I was in the same room, collecting my things when it happened.

 

<silence>

 

We’re truly fucked.

You said that already.

Good thing i fired Larry huh?

We’re all fired dumbass.

Right.

 

Own your shit

Oh you got a job in mumbai!! Awesome!!!

oh you’ll be down the street from andheri, where all the film stars are..

Shut up stupid, thats juhu, not andheri..
Yeah, but it’s still in mumbai right?

yeah, so?

So!!! you will get to meet Shahrukh and Salman!!

Yeah, right.

No, seriously, I know where they live. I’ll send you their addresses.

I seriously don’t think they will be interested in me meeting them for drooling over them… at least, not really, not salman, mostly not shahrukh as well.

What! I’d be starstruck if i’m in the same room as them, even if the room is so huge, boeing 747’s could fit in it.

airbus-380?

sure, why not? I’m just in so much awe!

haha, ok, let me get an apartment first, then we’ll talk

but of course. I’ll land up in mumbai and hunt for stars.

————–

Hey, how’s the new house?

Umm, It’s ok. It’s in a prime location, can’t complain. But they are real nazis when it comes to letting your friends in for the evening

Oh, Is it bad? I was coming to mumbai this weekend. Thought I will crash here.

Yeah, I have to give them a letter it seems. I’ll do that.

————

Hey man, how’s it going?

Hey, back from europe? yeah im good, how was amsterdam?

lol. Yeah it was great man, what do you expect. Sex, drugs and rock and rolla 🙂

So when you flying in to mumbai?

erm.. actually, i’m in mumbai now.. can i crash at your place for a few hours until my next flight? it’s early in the morning, I don’t want to camp at the airport.

Sure man, come on up. I bet we can order some food also. Even if it’s 2 am.

Are you sure the guards won’t be a problem this time?

Well, you are not staying the night. Technically you came in the morning. 😀

haha, as long as you’re sure man. I’m coming…

————-

bhaiyya, I am telling you i am just going to be in his apartment for 2 hours. I have a flight in 4 hours.

No one can enter the building after 11 pm.

But I am willing to enter it in the chart, you can do your questioning to the tenant in the morning!! Or if you want, we can do this at 7 am, when I am still there!

No, you can’t get in now. At all.

But I am not even a girl.

haha, if you were a girl, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

You’d have let me in?

haha, no, we would have hailed you a cab to take you where you came from since the guys you want to visit are guys, and we cannot let girls into bachelors’ apartments!! That’s forbidden!

By the constitution! <horrified look!>

No, by the secretary of the society.

Hang on! the tenants are adults right?

Yeah, only adults can sign contracts to stay here.

So, why can’t they get their friends to stay at their place for a few hours?!! Whichever nationality, religion, sex, sect or creed they are?!!

It’s the contract. 

Is that right bro? <speaking on the phone>

<voice over the phone>No man, there is no mention in the agreement that you cannot get members of the opposite sex into the apartment. Nor is it mentioned that you cannot get in after 11 pm.

<guards laughing and sniggering>

What?!! <friend and i together>

You don’t get to question the way it works here! You pay your rent and you follow the rules!

Oh. So, If you own your apartment you have a different contract?

Oh, obviously!

You can get your friends in at all times of the day or night?

absolutely

male AND female?

yes, that’s right.

So, only if you don’t own the apartment, you have live the life of forced celibacy and timed human contact?

huh? if you don’t own your apartment, you behave. Do as the society of owners asks you to.

right. Well, this is not discrimination at all

huh?

never mind…

 

Gilded Woods

 

A swift wind blew through the gilded woods. Uplifting in their mood yet chilling in their manner. Swiftly as she rode toward the west, carrying the tidings of fate for her land, her golden hair streaking behind her, her white hands clutching the reins with measured determination, her black stallion charging towards vengeance, retribution and peace.

 

The Guvnor could see her as she rode, down the valley opposite like a sweet flowing river. Her words had the charm of an angel and her wrath, the destitution of hell. Her lips, softer than rosebuds. He was pining for them, and there she was, riding toward him. High on the precipice of his castle, he stood, waiting.

 

The Old bat was blind, like she had been for the last twenty years. The purulence of her septic existence was an abominable blight on the quiet, honourable street. She lived there, but withdrawn into herself, destitute and surviving on scraps and leftovers. If she was in her right mind, she might have been inclined to seek justice, but she was mad. She was crippled and out of her mind, had been for the last twenty years.

 

The soft-spoken merchant was a good man. Very shrewd and very kind. He had fed her and clothed her since that terrible night. People often asked him, in high-end parties, why he cared for the old witch. He just smiled. He had his own penance to pursue, he said.

 

It all began the night the trumpets of war sounded just beyond the village fields. The war of the nobles had devoured them and had spilled over into the worthless lives of the peasants toiling in rented land. That night was the night the village would be sacrificed in the lecherous celebration of human hubris. It was dark as hell and the winds were forlorn and whining. The soldiers were meagre and certain of their death; they were shivering and filled with dread and despair. The villagers too were fazed and had surrendered to their fate. Rape, pillage and destruction. Then the attack came like the swoosh of an unfailing tide. Merciless and determined, the swords of the attackers chopped, swerved and slashed through the defence with disdain. In minutes the resistance was crushed and the village was won over. It was not how the villagers feared however. They left most of the businesses intact. But she was too bewitching to ignore, too ravishing not to defile. Her husband was murdered, her children disembowelled and she was raped, over and over again, by a hungry pack of wolves, rabid and putrid. When they were done with her, it was dawn and it was red and she was going to die. But they all went away, satisfied in their heinousness simply because none of them remembered to kill her.

 

He had been the one to take her. Not like the other villains took her. But otherwise, to safety and a place of relative calm. Hiding her in his wares and smuggling treatment from sympathetic medicine men along his route, he carried her like a lifeless plant, which had to be pulled out of suicidal reticence into a life without much promise. He took her away across the valley, across the river to this village, where they had been living for years.

 

Now she was old and lived with her daughter, her beautiful daughter, who had escaped death that night. Like her mother, due to a stroke of derisive luck. Her suitors were nonplussed by her coldness and her friends vexed by her perpetual distractions. Their neighbours smirked at her swordplay and her lack of propriety.

 

He was struck by her loveliness though. And his infatuation was as if, meant to be. Governor of the region, a man in good standing with the king himself, was considered a splendid catch, even if he was a bit old. And she was pushed into the wedlock and engagement by her people. He went back early to handle state affairs and she had some time to say her goodbyes.

 

Her mother was a destitute and she could barely think coherently. But she could remember vividly the night that was her last and she told her daughter, amid hiccoughs and struggling breaths, of her villains and their faces.

 

The Gilded woods stood between her and her husband. They stood between her mother and her vengeance. They stood between a place of life and a place of hate. They stood between her sword and his slain body. The wind blew swiftly and it seemed to be whispering. At long last, vengeance was riding home as a bride. And it was going to be swift and sweet.