A Tainted Mirth

Is love worthy enough - to occupy the place of motive, to overshadow the reason of cause, to conquer fear with flame, to win over terror with compassion? Sometimes it is.

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It was an ultra hectic Friday in the media firm encompassing VC's, deadlines,projection charts,negotiation with clients and slogging one's ass to the hilt. She left in a jiffy from the office, embroiled in her own thoughts ..proceeds to a metro station. Its a routine affair, inserts her pass in the automatic counter, usually..it opens up in a jiffy but today..some snag or something, made it fail to do so..enough to irk her out of her wits..fuck man! She is hot. Restless. Dressed in formals, shoulder length jet black hairs, a cute face and a professional outlook. Visually from a distance, one can easily interpret the expression of irritation on her face, she looks confused, inserting the card pass again on the scanner, It fails again. Fuck off, she yells.
A neatly dressed gentleman in blue shirt, black trousers, and a mufler covering the velvet leather jacker is standing just behind her ..in his seductively mushy voice,tells her to move a little back and then try..nopes not opening..he then takes the card from her..places at the designated point. Gate opens up, as if from a magic wand... he turns and bowls her out with a smile, his eyes were deep.
puzzled and annoyed she says a customary thank you embarrassed by instances which make her the laughing stock of the town at times...he is amused by her eccentric demeanor..

“Am! It sometimes happen”, she puffed, her hairs falling over her eyes loosely as she keeps her card back in her purse. there is something particularly catchy about her innocent eyes that fixes his gaze. He smiles back. In this stupid waste of time at the token insertion counter, she lost valuable minutes,courtesy to which she missed her train to dhohlakaun, where she was to be present to cover the research for a story, unaware, that a bigger story stood right in front of her.

The next train was to arrive 6 minutes later, and it was probably his smell,that first re-caught her attention. The kind of extrovert,she was, she approached him first,some formal introductory questions, a couple of twisted replies, tricky statements and puzzling phrases. This sapio sexual orientation girl was full of curiosity to knew more about him. She learned that this guy was also moving in the same direction. They boarded the same train. metro to CP to change tracks from there on. It was an incredible rush and they had to wrestle their way on board, while they battled the wave of departing passengers, this stranger held her hand,tightly and firmly,yet in a warm manner which shook her senses. In the train...amidst d poupourri of people pushing n shoveling..he acted as a security shield wrapping his hands around her waist as if protecting her from lecherous gawking,touching ,ogling of the present male bastion ..her garrulous,voluble nature n his patient listening.. constant yearning from mutual sides ..a far fetched closeness. They settled at a nearby shop for a coffee, Phone numbers were exchanged.
Spasmodic talking became a way of life..,she felt as if her long standing void is filled to the brim..was shuddering at the thought of overwhelming happiness, coz it has always eluded her..or was too short lived to sunk in her.
He was anyhow a loner, a Gujrat Born, Detroit living, with a past that had tragic demises of his parents, in a car crash in London..adept at everything ranging from cooking to carpeting to blogging to scuba diving..a perfect craftsman. she became a regular visitor to his Flat in an apartment in Delhi. At the brew was a Simon pure love sans ne lust..mentally intoxicated. she was an impulsive thinker,he was more analytical. They spent evenings, walking by, holding hands and talking and laughing. They met on 4 days in a week, only reason why rest 3 of the days were left was that he was out of town for some work, she Loved his company, his way of talking, his expression, his suggestions, his way of telling her...that she was a special friend. Months passed by and their friendship made way to move, stronger then they both expected it to be.

It was a Saturday and as usual, they met for dinner, at his place. Phone rang, He asked her to take the call, while he was using the microwave in kitchen.
“Hello?”
“Tell, Mr Allison...flat registry Bill is paid! No dues left, Focus on remaining work...”
“But who is Mr Allison”
... The phone was was disconnected!

Hey.. who is this Mr Allison, and why is your home papers issued from his name?, I thought this was your place...
"Eh! It is actually not..".he replied.
"means..." she asked further.
Means.. that not all questions have answers"
But some are not so complicated to be left unanswered, they are straight and simple"
Life is deceptive, complex of curves seems straight at times, its the frame of reference."
You have this knack of leaving people speechless... or is it just me...whom you can confuse..."
confusion is a remedy when bafflement is a motive"
and whats it when... motive is to win a heart..."
then... then...you got to confuse till you make her unable to draw conclusions..."
means...
Means... that not all questions have answers..." He laughed.
She smiled back.
I hope that beind your divine eyes, somewhere...is a loving world pure and honest..."
not even water that we drink and air that we breathe is pure, how on earth can you accept humans to be then... they are slaves that run on desires and passions... it is what drives them."

She hated him for saying so but in her voice, dont know how, this too sounded so so intimate. she leaned.
"I dont have words to carry on this any furthur". she smiled softly
"let me give you ...some of mine..." He whispered
They kissed.



The kiss was overpowering that they both reached the zenith of the unfathomable..the ecstasy was inexplicable joy knew no bounds and the resistance to temptation was reduced to zilch..true love gave way and thus the two flames were in unison...every moment was synonymous with the pleasurable agony burning since time immemorial..such a dichotomy..they were in a bliss.

The heat wasn't doused till d crack of a dawn but he had something to tell her....but he was unsure of how to put it in words and also unknown to the fact that he would never get a chance to actually tell her, who he was. destiny was ready to play game to the one who had himself spent his whole life playing games. games of lust. games of doubts. games of glory. games with secrets. This was to be his last one and the one who always win would lose.

she opened her eyes to find him missing on the bed.
she had a quick bath and dressed herself, just then...the door bell rang!

she opened the door. A guy came in from a courier service and delivered a briefcase. She was to leave for office, was already late, just as the delivery boy left. she picked up the briefcase and thought of putting it in the cupboard, it was full but she overlooked that and pushed it in, the door refused to close, she opened it to readjust, but the briefcase fell. It cracked and opened. What fell on floor from it, shook her senses. A 55 mm Mk gun, several FBI certified documents, fake IDs and passports, a Religiously looking testament that supplied his loyalty to his master. This was signed in Arab. There was an envelope that had pictures of him in Madrid, London and Mumbai railway stations and The last thing that came out of it was a map of Delhi Metro station... The same one at Rohini, where they first met.

A tear came rolling out of her eyes and settled at her cheek, she rested her palm on her head and sat down on floor, analyzing the strange questions and synopsizes that her Media trained brain passed on to her love laced blind heart. She stood up and took out her car keys, she locked the door and peeped in the bedroom whose bedsheet still told the story of last night. She recollected her strength and fought back tears and left the flat, in senses and with a motive. The motive was to find him and know the truth. She asked herself “Who is he”

after a 30 minutes drive, she reached Rohini metro station, it was not crowded. This helped her. He was there. She saw him, making way on the stairs towards the washroom, He was carrying a backpack. she followed. time came to a halt when the two gazes confronted each other. In her eyes, he saw a question. He dint had an answer to which. Eyes talked. He smiled with wet eyes as if telling her a story. She felt weak. He handed the a gun to her taking it out from her bag, which also carried a bomb...
such are travails of human life..he led a life on the trajectory of pains,miseries,mayhems,battling as a one man army..he wanted a heavenly end and this was the best he can vouch for..she gunning him down..perfect for achieving salvation for attaining bliss..the moment was coagulated by seemless overflow of tears by both sides..she could never do that...kill her own self no,not,nein..he was on her knees pleading..they embraced each other so tightly that they were reduced to a single entity..she was clogged in his arms ..passionate smooch followed which quenched their thirst and they were left gasping for more..time was a stumbling block and lo and behold after much coercion from him she took the gun and....



following day she was hogging the limelights..media frenzied to get her one sound byte..newspapers jostled to give her maximum coverage..she was the epicenter of the talks of the entire country..many accolades lined up for her..politicians,students,housewives,businessmen,reporters,hawkers..people from every walk of live singing ballads of her glory,her audaciousness..after all she,” A COMMONER killed a heinous terrorist during an encounter only she was witness to”..
she had lost all her senses..was bereft at her fate..the evanescent happiness again eluded her with a promise never to revoke back..they mistook her muteness for her downright gratitude towards her country..

his dead body and her image shared the front pages of newspapers ..adjacent to each other..they formed a lovely couple..!!

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( Plot of This story is shared between me and HEENA SHARMA, A dear friend of mine, she has co-written this peice with me, :) A SRCC Alumuni, An involving conversationalist, she works for a leading Nationwide popular Media House)

( PS - We worked on it, exchanging mails and it was amazing to see, how the script, kept moving. This is a very different post to what I have feed my readers with in past and I am optimistic that most of you would like it. This is my 97 th post, and Now I am off for a brake, due to my end sems, I shall return on 10th january with the 98th,99th and 100th post :) The comments will be answered, as and when they arrive, so keep them coming :) stay safe, take care and god bless and wish you a very very happy and prosperous new year :) take care and enjoy)

( PPS - Mere haath mein, tera haanth ho, saari jannatein mere saath ho, tu jo paas ho, Fir kya ye jahan, tere pyaar mein, Ho jaun Fanaa, Mere dil mein teri saanson ko panah mil jaaye, Tere Ishq mein meri jaan, Fanaa ho jaaye...)