Siksha

The book was no special. It was just a rom-com. Simple language, simple story line with a general message, typical Chetan Bhagat. He is famous for his simplicity. The more I analyzed the book in my head, the more heavy I was feeling in the heart. That character Madhav was just not getting out of my head. The way that character was presented summoned my obliterated sins. I had to remove the qualm, so I decided to go for a walk, it was better than sitting at a place and being miserable. I needed a distraction. But it got worse. As I walked down the street, my mind completed the analogy of me with Madhav and there was this; L.H.S=99% R.H.S proved, that one percent was for my unfaithful love. I felt solitary and desolate, my fortitude sank. I felt terror with my own consciousness so I got into the bus to diminish my loneliness. Slowly my deeds came as a flashback in front of my eyes. The bus and people inside it disappeared. I saw myself with my covet, it was a sin. I had never analyzed from this angle. My lust had camouflaged my perception. I was burning in agony. I was hallucinating. I tried to come back to my senses. I rubbed my eyes and opened the adjacent window. The cool breeze blew over my face and I started shivering. It was the time when the winter was just starting, so the days are warm with cold evening. The winter of Kathmandu is atrocious. But it had helped me put out the blaze inside me. I moved my eyes around, the bus was quite deserted like my soul. I got off the bus at the last station and decided to walk home. It wasn’t that late but winter shorten the days as grief shorten life. It was all dark and the scheduled load shedding was laughing eminently at the duress of people. I had no idea which part of the city I was at. I looked around and saw a small bar blazed with colorful lights. “Shady’s Bar” was written at the entrance kindled with the light bulbs to make it visible from distance. But the smog was debilitating the vision and you couldn’t read it clearly. It was cold and I was cursed being conscious, so I decided to get drunk and went to the bar.
It was small and crowded place, full of young people. Some were even underage. The cigarette smoke was all over the place. There was all cheers and laughter. It certainly wasn’t the place for me. The light was dim inside and the smoke was doing its job. I saw an empty table at the corner and sat there. I looked around the place. The walls were painted black and maroon in some places. There were nude paintings in the wall and posters of Eminem covered all over. Maybe they named the bar after the alter-ego of Eminem, Slim Shady. I felt the bar unfriendly, Shadowy and gloomy, just like my love life. I promised myself, at least for tonight I will not be miserable living in my past. I ordered a beer and continued to look around. The bar was so distinguished, like I knew the place from a long period of time. Like it’s in me, every part of it. The raw painting depicted my innocence, dark color was my lust and maroon was my love that no one deserved. I was looking at the smoke lot that flew out of a teenager’s mouth and got into my nose. It was marijuana. With marijuana was more guilt, so was with alcohol but they only were my ally for now. I looked the other side to cut off my flow of memories. People were coming in and going out continuously and I didn’t bother for any recognized faces, until an impeccable body entered through the door. The light was dim but couldn’t shade her perfect curly hair that slicked down up to her lower ribs, her spotless creamy face was pale with cold; she had firm perfectly symmetrical breasts and curvy body. She was my height tall and slim. Maybe I was getting drunk I couldn’t help but stare at her. The dim light and the dark corner was in my favor. I wondered what was she doing here, probably meeting some friends or her boyfriend may be waiting there who is not perjurer like me. I was the bad guy again in my head and I started to hate that girl. I hated her for taking me to antecedent from where I was running away. I took a big gulp of my beer focusing my eyes on her as she walked through the aisle and disappeared. My eyes didn’t bother to search her when my senses realized my drink was over. I was feeling good finally and I needed more. I was starting to realize I was just overreacting. The novel wasn’t the reason. I was. I was being such whiner.
I needed a refill. The only waiter was busy with a bunch of teenagers preparing a hookah for them, so I myself walked to the counter. The door was closed and it was warm inside and I realized the crowd had decreased a lot. I reached the counter but had no idea of my next order. I looked around and the silver colored bottle of Magic Moment was again the antagonist of my peace. I decided to drink the antagonist. I asked for a quarter neat. The bartender asked me which my seat was and as I turned around to point it, I saw a recognized face in front of the counter. I had seen her somewhere and my senses chided for my amnesia. She was the same girl I stared for so long in my life. I felt absurd and grinned at my foolishness.
“Sir, your seat?” bartender asked again.
“That one in the right corner”, I pointed only to find it occupied. Never mind, I thought and asked the bartender to bring the drink in the table where the girl was. She was alone and the one out of two chairs in the table was empty. I looked towards her. I could see some dark spots and bruise scars in her face. She had dark circles in her face, indicating she hadn’t slept much recently. She was dressed perfectly and looked like she was from an affluent family. But I still wondered what she was doing in a place like this.
“Do you know her?” it was the bartender again.
“Who is she?” I asked him back.

“She is the first well dressed, beautiful girl without any friend I’ve seen in this bar. Otherwise only prostitutes come alone here,” He said.
“Oh,” I said and went over the table and sat in front of her. She was busy with her phone, probably texting someone and there was a Heineken beer in her table one-fourth emptied.  She was startled to see me in front of her when she raised her head. She gave me an enraged look which clearly shouted, “Who the hell are you to share my table? Get lost off my sight.” I completely ignored her metaphor and took a big gulp of my drink, forgetting it’s a vodka, not a beer! I couldn’t throw it out and my alimentary canal burned like hell. Thanks to my alcohol resistivity, I was able to hide my little amnesia problem from my face. The alcohol was burning my body but I gave a cool smile in response of her scornful look. I felt quite dizzy suddenly, but the feeling was so good, better than anything. I started to smile remembering my past days in Delhi when I with my friends used to search for a reason for celebration so we could have an alcohol party. All the memories flashed in my head and I started to giggle unconsciously. I tried to stop but it was involuntary, I started to laugh hard. She gave an amazed look at me, stared scornfully for a while and smiled, she tried to suppress but couldn’t. She also started to giggle, hiding her face. Now it was my time to be surprised. I stopped and she faced my looks now.
“What’s that, you are drinking?” she asked.
“v..o..d..k..a”, I said. My voice was shaky. I know I wasn’t nervous, maybe it was alcohol.
“Will you get me the same?” she asked and placed a Rs. 500 note in the table.
“I am not a waiter”, I defended in shock.
“I know,” She said. “But you know, I this is first time I am alone in the bar and usually people buy drinks for me. It feels awkward and lonely to do that. I am running away from solitude, will you help me, in that? It’s a request.”
I knew she is going to make me buy her a drink and I was so much irritated by my own loneliness that hearing hers could do no better. But I couldn’t hurt my ego either. So I called the waiter and asked him to get the lady the drink she wanted. She gave me a look of despair. “Fine!” I said and went to the counter and got the drink to the table. She smiled on her triumph but didn’t say a word of gratitude.
“Looks like someone here doesn’t know how to thanks people!” I murmured.
“No one thanks after punishment. That was the punishment for your act.”
I was shocked. I hated her for that. No girl in these 20 years was so hasty with me. This was the new type. Let’s see if it’s just the cover, I thought. I looked her keenly and behind her white skin I could see shades of gloom but her eyes had fortitude. She was calm.
“What?” She said, finding me staring at her.
“What are you doing all alone, this late in a desolate bar?” I asked.
“Why does it concern you? Oh, maybe you are the types of people who think, girls are vulnerable, shouldn’t roam alone at night. Let me tell you, I am not that weak. And don’t show your care. I don’t even know you. Why should I answer your question?” she displayed her annoyance over my question.
“I didn’t mean that’” was only, I could say.
“I’m sorry!” she said. But I have been through so much recently, I can’t control my frustration anymore.
“Same here”, I murmured. “My name is bezay,” I said. “Now you know me,” I grinned.
“What do you do?” was her reply.
“Well, I am a student, Bachelor 2^nd year”, I said.
“So, enjoying your father’s money, huh?” she gave me a scornful look.
I had to defend myself, “I am an intern in a leading C.A firm,” I grinned at my triumph.
“Good for you,” she said, judging my tone and looked towards the aisle, completely ignoring my existence.  
I took a sip of my drink and found myself staring at her right side of the face, the side that was in front of me. Her cheek had turned rosy from pale. There was an apple in her cheek and I wanted to take a bite. Then I realized how drunk I was.
“Siksha,” she said, turning towards me.
That suddenly brought me to my senses. “What?” I asked, unconsciously.
“My name.” she said. “Siksha.”
“Nice name!” that was spontaneous. “Siksha, Siksha,” I repeated two or three times in different tones, mocking her.
“That’s my name.” she said. “So what are your interest, except getting drunk and staring at girls?”
So she had caught me staring at her. I was coy. “Reading,” I said. “I love reading, anything except syllabus.”
“What have you read so far?” That was the must insulting questions I had ever faced. I was always praised for the number of books I have swallowed given my age. I maintained my patience and searched in my mind for the toughest book, I wanted to make her feel inept for insulting me.
“Anna Karenina, one of my favorite book” I boasted. “I have read quite a lot.”
“Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy!” she showed her all interest, “that’s my favorite too. Hell of a book, na! It took three months for me to complete for the first time. Which is your favorite part?”
What did she mean by 1^st time? Now I was in trouble. I hadn’t read Anna Karenina. I downloaded the pdf and sat twice. But that complex book full of characters and tough language and literature and over all that more than 3500 pages. I had removed the idea of reading it and watched the movie. Thank god I watched the movie. I thought I could read 10 books in the time I finish that one. Then I realized how shallow I was. I always ran behind show off, numbers, even my love was a show off. I remembered how fun it was to read one book from start to end and how I wanted it never to end. I was finding myself. I wasn’t really fond of numbers and show off but the situations had made me so. And I needed a change.
“I love the main plot. To be specific that part when Anna and Vronsky meet for the first time.”  Wow I remembered the names. And simultaneously also remembered that, that part was considered as an evil omen as the worker gets killed falling in the rail tracks. That really wasn’t the best part.
“I love that part where Anna agrees to move to Italy with Vronsky, leaving Karenin and all social and cultural barriers behind. For her love, risking own dignity. Only if we could do that in real life.” She looked serious and lost. Then she recollected herself and said, “What else?”
I was irritated by that question, so I thought of ending this once and all. “Lots,” I said again. “Shiva trilogy- great series by Amish, what a ride it was, enjoying the definition of love with Nicholas Sparks, and ruining the feeling by Stephanie Meyer…”
“Hahahah, true quoted”, she interrupted. She was listening curiously.
 “Ya”, I said. “Fifty Shades of Grey was a pain in the ass, Paulo Coelho was the savior of soul, Robin Sharma motivated me for lifetime, Jed Rubinfled’s mystry, Jane Austen’s humor, Oscar wilde’s brilliance, Harper Lee’s Innocence (I was losing my breath and It was surprising how I remembered all the names) Taslima Nasrin, Khalid Husseini, STPHEN KING (I gave more pitch to his name) Chetan Bhagat, who’s latest latest release, Half-Girlfriend, I completed yesterday”.
“Chetan Bhagat got a new book?” She gasped. Above all the greatest writers in the world I quoted, Chetan Bhagat’s half girlfriend did the job for me. And co-incidentally, I was there with her because of that book.
“Wow, someone got a big library in his head,” she finally accept her defeat. And I gave her a smile of my sweep. I took a tissue paper and wrote, “abezayprose.blogspot.com” and forwarded towards her. Oh, boy it’s really my day. She looked astonished and read the paper.
“You can read my blogs”, I said.
“So, you write also? What are they about?”
“Just the inception of what I live with each day.” “I hope you will like it.”
“I surely will.” She replied. “You are more impressive than you look. I am glad we talked.” That surely was a big blow over the face.
“I don’t think I can ever write about myself. My life is just so messy. I thought of writing sometime earlier to spare my loneliness. I write lines and I just don’t feel like writing. The sentiments and emotions stick in my head and all my excitement is lost.  I feel gloomy and it slowly disintegrates me. So I don’t even think of writing.” She smiled, hiding her grief. That was the best smile I had seen in years.
“Emotions and unsatisfied expectations, pile up over and over again, and you have no one around to share, no one to listen your story, then you find that your only true friend is that pen and paper and you start to phrase your story for them. You feel like sharing it with the world and you publish them. That’s how it goes,” I smiled back.
“These emotions sentiments should not stick inside, I believe in letting them to flow.” I added. “I hate being so sensitive,” I was speaking in the flow.
“Looks like we have a lot in common!” she giggled showing her beautiful white teeth. I hadn’t noticed them before. I wondered what would have had happened to her. She was again looking towards the aisle letting me stare at her. The bar was silent. The crowd was gone. The waiter looked sleepy and tired. But he had to still serve some drunkards. The bartender was busy making cocktails. And I, I was having the best time.

“Where are you from?” I broke the silence.
She turned towards me and asked playfully, “why?”
“Just curious.”
“I can’t give you my personal details! I barely know you, what if you turn out to be a criminal or….”
“Rapist”, I added.
“I don’t think you are a rapist! Gee, you have no scope with that body. You can’t even carry a girl.”
Well that was an insult. “You don’t need to carry a girl to rape her. I think I should show u a demo,” I said so and got up. Her face turned down, she looked nervous.

“Don’t insult my body, I am an athlete.’’ I said.

“Oh! Really? What do you play?”
“Everything, sort of.” We both laughed out loud. This was the first time she was laughing loud.
“I used to be a badminton player. I played national level.” She added.
I was flushed. I realized there was no scope. She was just best in everything.
“Do you play now?” that was the stupidest question.
“No, I don’t.”
“Why?”
“I had some problems with my back and my physician suggested to quit. Then from an athlete I turned out to be a lazy girl who just spends her time watching T.V.” she was lost again as she spoke. There was a dissatisfaction in her or being her.
“I was in bed rest for a month. I watched lot of sitcoms. My dad used to bring me the CDs,” she swallowed her breath. Trying to recollect herself, she asked, “Do you watch Sitcoms?”
I was alarmed. I was gazing at her unconsciously. “ya..”, I said. “there was a time”. Then I detailed how me and my friends used to have HIMYM, BBT marathon.
“Oh, those are my best shows,” she said. “Who is your favorite character in BBT?”
“Raj”, I replied. I generally say Sheldon, but today was the guilt day. “That character is so much like me.”
“What you can’t talk with ladies without being drunk?” she raised her eyebrows.
“Ya something like that. Or maybe because he got Emily. God, I love Laura Spencer”, that came out spontaneously.
“I also think she is gorgeous. It’s so awkward that our likes are so similar. I think you are just saying. How can our likes be so similar?”
“I am stunned myself?”
“Ok the lets have a test. I will ask you the field and you say what you like best. Lets start.”
“Ok. But ask me boyish matter. No idea about girlish things.”
“Ok. Football?”

“Argentina.”

“Cricket?”
“I don’t watch much cricket. So I go with my own country. Nepal. I do watch 20-20 though.”
“Same here. Only IPL”.
“I love KKR in IPL”.
“Dude, do you read mind or what?” that was her response.
We laughed for while over that. She was drunk. I saw her drink it was over. Then I realized when she turned towards the aisle, she used to drink it. I was so much into the conversation, I hadn’t taken a sip. And I didn’t feel like drinking either.
“EPL”
“Manchester United”. Her eyes brighten. This one my friend contradicts. She was relieved. “I love Chelsea.”
I hated her for that. I hated Chelsea, each player of the team. She was still giggling.
Suddenly my hangover was down. In her face I saw my girlfriend I didn’t love. I felt pathetic again. I asked her, ‘’Now we have spoken for a while, what type of person do you think I am?”

She looked directly into my eyes. “Oh, you have dense eyes”, she giggled. I realized I was talking serious with a drunk girl. And over that I asked her to be serious.

“Um,’’ she said. “Let me gather the information. You read a lot, so you are knowledgeable, you write, you are creative,  you are humorous, a little stupid, (she said making face) you are a KKR fan so you like the best and for being a Man U fan, I should say, you don’t lose hope in difficult time.”
Was that an insult? No one had used so many adjectives for me before. Lots of new things were happening for sure.
“I love to be praised”, I said.
She shook her head and smiled. The waiter came to us and said that it was 10 pm and it was the closing time. I was shocked listening to him. It was 10 pm at night. I had no idea where I was. Siksha laughed seeing my face.

“Let’s go”, she said.

We slowly got out of the bar, it was cold outside. The waiter shut the shutter and turned the lights off. The city was still dark, the load shedding prevailed. Another darkness was filling my soul. It was the time for me to be me again. The cold was tearing me apart. I was feeling weak. I wanted to throw up. I looked at her. She was walking, rubbing her hands. Absolutely normal.
“I had a good time.” She said.
“How will we meet again?” I asked out of desperation.
“We won’t.”
“What? Why? You can’t decide everything. I want your phone number, address or at least add me in Facebook.” I screamed in agony.

“I can’t meet you again, Bezay. I don’t want us to be familiar. If we end here, you shall cherish me forever, you will hate me, knowing the real me. I don’t want you to hate me.”

I disagreed. I did all I could but she was heartless. At last she said, “OK it’s a bad idea but we can give it a second chance.”

“How?”

“We met today by chance. I can’t schedule my time or give you any hope because I don’t have any. So if by any chance we meet again, then we shall think about it.”

I loathed her even more for that. I never wanted to meet any person so brutal again, but her. I wanted to be with her.

“But please promise me that you won’t search for me.”
 I remembered Madhav and his search for Riya. I couldn’t do that for certain. “I won’t look for you”. I said, lost.

“Ok, then I must go,” She said. I was not able to comprehend what was happening. I hated the alcohol for that. I was just staring at her and looking her lips move. She leaned forward and kissed me in the cheek.
“You are the best person, I met.” “Thank you” was her last word.
I came to senses feeling the warmth in my cheeks. I saw her walking ahead. There was a Skoda parked. She got inside and pulled the window down. I could see her waving me good bye.
“Can you drive? You are drunk”, I shouted.
I only heard goodbye over the sound of engine. I couldn’t hold and threw up three times. I tried to control myself, but the cold had made me weak. My cheek was still warm. I wished she had kissed me all over my body, I would be saved. I collapsed.