I stepped onto the brakes. The car came to a stop. I looked at whoever it was asking for a lift at ten-thirty in such a God-forsaken place on such a pitch-black night. It was a girl. A beautiful girl.
‘Yes?’ I said.
‘Can you please drop me off at the post office on Shami Street?’ her voice sounded like a piece of soft music.
‘At this hour? It must be closed ma’am,’ I said, glancing at my Omega.
‘Actually I live in the building opposite to it. Gulmohar Apartments.’
The name rang a bell. I was lost in my thoughts for a few moments.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What? Oh yes; ya sure. I’ll drop you off,’ I said, opening the door for her. She opened the rear door. “Attitude!” I thought to myself. Then she dumped her bag on the rear seat and shut the door. She came and sat next to me. I looked at the steering wheel sheepishly. I started the car and pulled onto the road again.
We were both quiet for a long time; during which, I tried hard not to stare at her. Clad in a black Chiffon sari with a halter neck blouse and absolutely no jewellery, spare a silver watch on her left wrist and her black beady eyes, she looked simple yet stunning. She had a fair complexion that was so soft and delicate and spotless, you’d think she bathed in milk everyday. Finally I asked her;
‘What are you doing all alone in this part of the city at this hour of the night, if I may ask so?’
Now you may think that was a stupid question to ask; but when you see a girl so beautiful and all alone at ten-thirty, about five minutes away from the highway… it doesn’t seem to be an odd question, right?
‘Funny you should ask me that,’ she said, playing with a lock of her long black curly hair.
‘Yeah; maybe… But then I’m a guy… and not much in danger. But you are a really beautiful lady___’
She suddenly burst out laughing. She then took a full look at me, her eyes lingering on my biceps, then my abs.
‘How many hours do you work out?’ she asked me.
‘Two.’
‘And you think you are strong?’
I kept quiet.
‘How strong would you be if I had a gun with me right now?’ she asked. My hair stood out on their ends.
‘Do you?’ I asked. And she laughed again.
We were quiet again for a while. Shit! Could I have run out of conversation with such a beauty so soon? Had I really put her off by my silly remark? But then the whole situation, simple as it was, was seemingly unusual.
I switched the radio in the car on. Asha Bhosale’s voice came floating out of it;
‘Aankhon Se Jo Utari Hai Dil Mein…’
‘Aaah!’ I exclaimed, then apologized immediately.
‘What for?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know… Maybe I was too loud?’
This time she simply ignored me and looked out of the window.
Again silence.
WHY WAS I ACTING SO CHIVALROUS? Come on… I mean, this wasn’t like the first time I was driving with a gorgeous female sitting next to me. I mean, it was routine for me. Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am a photographer.
‘So you are a photographer?’
I looked at her as she tried to tuck in a curl that was carelessly bouncing on her forehead, and said, ‘How did you know?’
She pointed to the rear-seat. I glanced back, and for the first time I was glad for all the mess at the back of my car; thermocol sheets, black cloth, tripod stand, and safely put in one corner among all this clutter, my precious precious camera.
‘Ya,’ I said, happy she had initiated the talk this time after my two miserable, failed attempts.
‘Cool! So you work for a magazine or something?’ she further inquired.
‘Yeah; I work for GLAM.’
Wow! We were finally talking. I could have become her chauffer for the rest of my life if only to get to see that breath-taking face in the rear-view mirror and hear that sweet voice again and again… man! I was thinking crazy things!
She pushed the back-rest further behind and leaned against it.
‘My brother was a photographer too,’ she said, her eyes closed, her body relaxed.
‘Really?’ I said.
‘But a wild-life photographer.’
‘Oh.’
I again found myself studying her in the silence that ensued. God! I tell you she was beautiful. But there was something about her beauty that was queer… something really odd. Her skin was so fair… or was it the moon playing tricks on my slightly over-worked mind? I tried hard to resist myself from reaching out for her arm.
‘Girlfriend?’ she asked suddenly, pointing at a small picture on the dashboard. I quickly picked it up and threw it on the back seat. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows.
‘Ex.’ I said, focusing on the road.
‘Name?’
‘Akanksha.’
Why was I not being able to answer her unselfconsciously? And why was I at all giving this strange, but beautiful girl a fill-up on my personal life at now almost eleven, when I didn’t even know her name?
‘I’m Isha,’ she said; ‘Whats your name?’
‘Can you read people’s minds or something?’ I blurted out.
‘Sorry?’ she asked, confused.
‘Nothing,’ I said and continued driving. A moment or two later I reached out for the glove box. My hand brushed her leg slightly, but she didn’t seem to notice it. I on the other hand, with adrenaline pumping in every inch of my body, felt it. My hand lingered a while, fidgeting with the handle. I shook my head and gathered myself. I opened the box and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. I noticed she was staring out of the window. I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. The smoke made her turn around and look at me.
‘Marlboro?’ she asked.
‘How did you know?’
‘Oh I can recognized that smell in a thousand other, have an extra one?’
‘You smoke?’
‘Used to.’
I handed the pack over to her. She removed a cigarette and held it between her lips. I lit it for her. She shut her eyes and sighed. She withdrew the cigarette and blew out a ring.
‘Wow,’ she exclaimed. ‘This feels so great… so liberating.’
‘How did you quit?’
‘Karan didn’t like it.’
I closed my eyes… squeezed them shut. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
‘He said he didn’t want my pink lips to turn black.’
‘No boy-friend would want that if you were the girl involved,’ I said.
She laughed. I immediately felt like an idiot.
‘He was my husband.’
I clutched inwardly. ‘What does he do?’ I asked, trying to conceal the disappointment in my voice.
‘Nothing much. He is dead.’
I did a double-take. ‘What?’ I said.
‘I killed him.’
I stamped onto the breaks. The car came to a screeching halt right in the middle of the road.
I just kept staring ahead of me for a minute or so; blinking rapidly; trying to make sense of what was happening. I turned around to look at her.
‘Keep driving.’
She was holding a pistol in my face. Cold sweat broke on my forehead. I started the car and began speeding down the road.
‘Yes?’ I said.
‘Can you please drop me off at the post office on Shami Street?’ her voice sounded like a piece of soft music.
‘At this hour? It must be closed ma’am,’ I said, glancing at my Omega.
‘Actually I live in the building opposite to it. Gulmohar Apartments.’
The name rang a bell. I was lost in my thoughts for a few moments.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What? Oh yes; ya sure. I’ll drop you off,’ I said, opening the door for her. She opened the rear door. “Attitude!” I thought to myself. Then she dumped her bag on the rear seat and shut the door. She came and sat next to me. I looked at the steering wheel sheepishly. I started the car and pulled onto the road again.
We were both quiet for a long time; during which, I tried hard not to stare at her. Clad in a black Chiffon sari with a halter neck blouse and absolutely no jewellery, spare a silver watch on her left wrist and her black beady eyes, she looked simple yet stunning. She had a fair complexion that was so soft and delicate and spotless, you’d think she bathed in milk everyday. Finally I asked her;
‘What are you doing all alone in this part of the city at this hour of the night, if I may ask so?’
Now you may think that was a stupid question to ask; but when you see a girl so beautiful and all alone at ten-thirty, about five minutes away from the highway… it doesn’t seem to be an odd question, right?
‘Funny you should ask me that,’ she said, playing with a lock of her long black curly hair.
‘Yeah; maybe… But then I’m a guy… and not much in danger. But you are a really beautiful lady___’
She suddenly burst out laughing. She then took a full look at me, her eyes lingering on my biceps, then my abs.
‘How many hours do you work out?’ she asked me.
‘Two.’
‘And you think you are strong?’
I kept quiet.
‘How strong would you be if I had a gun with me right now?’ she asked. My hair stood out on their ends.
‘Do you?’ I asked. And she laughed again.
We were quiet again for a while. Shit! Could I have run out of conversation with such a beauty so soon? Had I really put her off by my silly remark? But then the whole situation, simple as it was, was seemingly unusual.
I switched the radio in the car on. Asha Bhosale’s voice came floating out of it;
‘Aankhon Se Jo Utari Hai Dil Mein…’
‘Aaah!’ I exclaimed, then apologized immediately.
‘What for?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know… Maybe I was too loud?’
This time she simply ignored me and looked out of the window.
Again silence.
WHY WAS I ACTING SO CHIVALROUS? Come on… I mean, this wasn’t like the first time I was driving with a gorgeous female sitting next to me. I mean, it was routine for me. Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am a photographer.
‘So you are a photographer?’
I looked at her as she tried to tuck in a curl that was carelessly bouncing on her forehead, and said, ‘How did you know?’
She pointed to the rear-seat. I glanced back, and for the first time I was glad for all the mess at the back of my car; thermocol sheets, black cloth, tripod stand, and safely put in one corner among all this clutter, my precious precious camera.
‘Ya,’ I said, happy she had initiated the talk this time after my two miserable, failed attempts.
‘Cool! So you work for a magazine or something?’ she further inquired.
‘Yeah; I work for GLAM.’
Wow! We were finally talking. I could have become her chauffer for the rest of my life if only to get to see that breath-taking face in the rear-view mirror and hear that sweet voice again and again… man! I was thinking crazy things!
She pushed the back-rest further behind and leaned against it.
‘My brother was a photographer too,’ she said, her eyes closed, her body relaxed.
‘Really?’ I said.
‘But a wild-life photographer.’
‘Oh.’
I again found myself studying her in the silence that ensued. God! I tell you she was beautiful. But there was something about her beauty that was queer… something really odd. Her skin was so fair… or was it the moon playing tricks on my slightly over-worked mind? I tried hard to resist myself from reaching out for her arm.
‘Girlfriend?’ she asked suddenly, pointing at a small picture on the dashboard. I quickly picked it up and threw it on the back seat. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows.
‘Ex.’ I said, focusing on the road.
‘Name?’
‘Akanksha.’
Why was I not being able to answer her unselfconsciously? And why was I at all giving this strange, but beautiful girl a fill-up on my personal life at now almost eleven, when I didn’t even know her name?
‘I’m Isha,’ she said; ‘Whats your name?’
‘Can you read people’s minds or something?’ I blurted out.
‘Sorry?’ she asked, confused.
‘Nothing,’ I said and continued driving. A moment or two later I reached out for the glove box. My hand brushed her leg slightly, but she didn’t seem to notice it. I on the other hand, with adrenaline pumping in every inch of my body, felt it. My hand lingered a while, fidgeting with the handle. I shook my head and gathered myself. I opened the box and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. I noticed she was staring out of the window. I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. The smoke made her turn around and look at me.
‘Marlboro?’ she asked.
‘How did you know?’
‘Oh I can recognized that smell in a thousand other, have an extra one?’
‘You smoke?’
‘Used to.’
I handed the pack over to her. She removed a cigarette and held it between her lips. I lit it for her. She shut her eyes and sighed. She withdrew the cigarette and blew out a ring.
‘Wow,’ she exclaimed. ‘This feels so great… so liberating.’
‘How did you quit?’
‘Karan didn’t like it.’
I closed my eyes… squeezed them shut. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
‘He said he didn’t want my pink lips to turn black.’
‘No boy-friend would want that if you were the girl involved,’ I said.
She laughed. I immediately felt like an idiot.
‘He was my husband.’
I clutched inwardly. ‘What does he do?’ I asked, trying to conceal the disappointment in my voice.
‘Nothing much. He is dead.’
I did a double-take. ‘What?’ I said.
‘I killed him.’
I stamped onto the breaks. The car came to a screeching halt right in the middle of the road.
I just kept staring ahead of me for a minute or so; blinking rapidly; trying to make sense of what was happening. I turned around to look at her.
‘Keep driving.’
She was holding a pistol in my face. Cold sweat broke on my forehead. I started the car and began speeding down the road.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
2 comments:
First up , good narration again . Thriller effect shows up in the end , but good that it is that way .
Was not revealing the protagonist's name intentional or just a coincidence ?
all in all an interesting read . can't wait to read what happens next.
ps- i think u need to proof-read the piece.
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