Men, Whadya Say ?
Men, Whadya Say ?7 mins 361 7 mins 361
Entering the room, he hung his jacket on the hooks present behind the threshold, he had taken it out while walking about. Before unbuttoning his shirt, he decided to look around for her but he could barely find another black human figure in the dark room. He felt slightly betrayed. The rooms there generally were dimly lighted and were dingy cells that were painted in dark hues, green and mostly green, infact I would rather say just green. Yet there was nothing green about it, it was not lively at all. It was a green of frustration with speckles and chappings, the kind of green that you may assume while being drowned deep beneath the ebbs of ocean while its still the day outside but you are under the deepest depth, water had surrounded you, swallowed you, a green of frustration, a green that no more wills for emancipation, a green surrendering and of submission. The claustrophobia has grasp over the throat, things are to be stopped but won't.
He was wondering what to do next when a car flashed over the window and went by honking its horn for the farthest that could be heard. He saw a wrist hovering from the edge of the cot, it shone bright. He felt a tinge of excitement. He pulled out the phone from his pocket and found a girl lying on it with both of her legs on a side and pulled upto chest, enshrouding. Another hand laid freely to the same side. He had seen her face first that sent a shudder down to his spine and then he shared a fraction from her despair, perhaps.
He knew who she was and to find an acquaintance to a place as this was never thought by him. The thing about brothels is that if a man is found there with whom you are acquainted with, it might be concessioned somehow. Yet again what if you find a lady of your acquaintance there, the person is crestfallen or so, in general. Afterall, there are no men serving brothels, atleast in India and those who are, are under the age of sixteen, fragility again. He slowly landed on the ground, his thighs made no noise of panic, he sat crossing his legs and placed his phone on the ground forgetting to turn its light off. He stared out of the window with emptiness because for now he had nothing into his mind. He knew that he has to move and something is to happen but could it be when he was prepared...
He had started visiting brothels an year ago or two. He was well accustomed to the things around, so as there would be a hook behind the door no matter to whichever room you go. There would be drunkards who would be of no harm to him. He could take a cab or walk, nobody would really mind, brothel was a place that could pacify and nullify the class divison; people united there to sin. Those dingy cells were the stage of performance that imparted delight even to an inconfident fellow. To be the master because they could afford being so in every aspect;they have been destined for it.
For a few, they rehearsed;the cacophony broke through the walls everyday, which was for what purpose it could not be sieved. He never bargained there and hence, was a generous man. He was greeted and given treat of tea in those short faceted rock glasses or whatever that he preferred on the occassion when he did not deny. When he had visited it for the first time he was not greeted as pleasantly as today since he was unexpected and people as him with notes and pens or so, visited these places for inspections, he had too but his temptation could overcome his purpose.
It was another time for him, initially he was addicted to his phone as a teenager that he knew he was addicted to and wished to overcome it but it could not happen. His cycle no more had undulations in transitory, it was a circle that brought him to one or the another addiction. Pulling him back again and again. One can grieve for something for a while but then when it becomes a tendency to grieve, nothing can resolve it, not even the former lost entity's revival. To work for nothing is eventually being an addict and consequently, disgracefully irresponsible.
It was a winter night, he could feel his hands getting cold, the floor was cold and everything that his palms came in contact with though with distinguished surfaces, were beautifully cold. The window shield were coated with mist and his head was equally murky.
He was then struck by the idea of cold, the girl who laid in front of him had nothing to warm her other than her apparel that was tattered. He stood on his knees to have a better vantage. He found her breathing with her mouth slightly opened and wheezing. He was wondering when were they given the time to feed or sleep. The chain followed and wrought him to brood about the rest of the women there and of how frequently he visited this place and yet never bothered to think of their lives other than this one while when he had no other choice but to think.
He took his precautions and that the best of our devils intend to ensure that nobody witnesses us. It was true to think that a theist and a believer of righteousness might consider this facet of life as something frivolous, it had to be natural and obvious;such evanscent so as not to be counted in any purgatory and you could do whatever you want thoughtlessly. The way you saw her was mostly dependent on who she was to you, yet what if she was something to you and is something else now, like from a friend to prostitute; what would you do and why ?
He lifted his visit to stop the time or to analyze how much was he left with. He realized it was dark and began to rummage for his phone with his palms swiping through the floor when he felt to have touched any liquid. He searched even quickly when his fast moving hand struck the phone and it went in a random direction to somewhere. He clouted his hand on the ground. Exhaling deep, he stood and trying to turn the lights on, he flipped on and off the each switch but none worked, his attempts turned furious and rapped them until it woke the girl up from her stupor.
He could not see anything but hear rapid audible breathing with apparent hiccups. Then his ears were nearly bursted with a crescendo of shriek that stopped and reinitiated until he had to jump on the cot with estimation and shut the mouth of the girl who kept pressing her voice against his palm trying to pull his hand way. After a while she gave up and began to weep slowly, he recoiled back, looking at her from a distance. She kept shivering and weeping, coughing occassionally. A part of his brain reminiscent that how cold was she, he thought of her fragility;that is how it pleases people, men. She was inacquiescent yet acquiescent.
He knew that nobody would know of anything yet he could not bring himself upto a thought of any amatory. Who knows if it was his scruples or it needed gradual weathering of her former image. He had a second thought if he were be mistaken to think of her as someone else. Yet again the lights, he crawled down the bed and she kept weeping unaware. This time he was victorious to have found his phone and to pick it, he found its light to be on, the girl was so sensitive to light that as soon as it shone she covered the back with his palm quickly and turned it to ground;he forgot to notice her to say who she was. He found ground to be so dark that he could not say without examining the liquid that what it was. By the time he turned back to her, she was looking at him, shivering. He scarcely knew what to do. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it soon enough, a few minutes might have went by when someone rapped at the door.
"How long would you be there, sir?"
He recoiled back to the situation and said, "I shall need time, time okay? I shall pay..." , he turned at her as soon as he said it and then willing to explain something initially, finally withdrew efforts. The person on door might have had already left.
Atlast he asked, "Why are you here?"
There was pin-drop silence.