30 June 2010

Midsummer Mid-sentences!

Complication wasn’t new to her. She has been used to it since her teens. It is accepting simplicity that would be beneath her as voting for Republican Party. However this did not make sense. She grew up listening to Eurythmics constantly reminding her “Some of them want to use you…some of them want to be used by you”.

His straightforward responses, seemingly honest tone and unassumingly un-manly behavior has thrown her off her game. It was not supposed to be this way. He was meant to behave like every other asshole that gave her shelter. She expected their advances and allowed her dignity to be willingly pillaged as she locked her soul tightly until the storm was over. She knew the ritual. She knew the motions. She knew the rationale. The mind has a way of applying logic to its convenience and blocking every inner voice from your heart. She repeated the numbers inside her head. 509.508.507. It helped her calm down.

She knew her count.

She loved her Math. When the rest of normal people complain about it, she found it fascinating. The patterns, the logic, and the way seemingly unrelated equations get joined by faith and proven by assumptions that made sense to her senseless life. She could never understand how anyone can not love this beautiful language of equations that balances and unbalances at will yet it rears its head up at unexpected places like the tilted frame of her Mother that is held by the corner flower vase creating a unique triangle that would have made Pythagoras smile in jubilation. Numbers are real. Numbers don’t talk back. Numbers don’t take advantage.

She told herself to breathe. He is not like others. He is truly caring. It is my past sins that make me prejudiced. But he is still a man. A man with a dick. And she knew she couldn’t trust anyone with a dick. It is natural. It will happen eventually. Perhaps not today. Maybe not even a month from now but it is eventuality. It is only a value for X in the equation.  The impulse will take over. The hunt is in their blood. It is evolution. Prey them. Take them into confidence. Win their trust. Make them dependent. And then Pounce!   

It’s been over six hours. He hasn’t invited others to showcase her. He hasn’t opened her door and barged in. Count. Stop obsessing. Count. 357.356.355.

She knew her count.

And finally he came.She decided to let him. She felt his resolve weakening as he came closer. She counted down. Maybe he is innocent. 121.120.119. Maybe it’s not impulse. Maybe he means it as an expression of love. 44.43.42. Maybe he shouldn’t have sold young girls from Nepal as the encrypted files in his laptop shows. Maybe he shouldn’t have shouted “Fuck Me Bitch!” to that 14-yr old who came crying to me. She counted down. 03.02.01.

There were no more numbers. There was nothing left to do as she stared at him with her knife in his gut!

She knew her count. She added one more to it! 


Anonymous said...

Good to see you back.

Sowmya said...

Good Read.
What is the idea behind? Is this entirely your imagination?