The Blood

[Some blog post after one and a half years]

Some Piya: Some 23 years: Working. Cool ….. here she goes …..

I always told them, Sameer and alcohol can NOT go together. Every time they throw up a booze party, he is either found wandering aimlessly on midnight South Delhi roads or he ends up calling me as soon as his mercury rises. I never attend any of those. Those fanatic bachelor hang-outs or late-night blowouts or riots or whatever they call them. But Sameer is like! He is born to live fanatically! He loves to dance, to whirl his body the whole night, to yell aimlessly, to clink glasses, to lose his senses and measure the walls of the discotheque. He loves to slump deliberately over hot girls and earning slaps; he relishes them! He clicks photographs with all those hot metropolitan chicks he encounters every weekend while on their random bachelor hang-outs. He is very careless. He knows he messes up whatever he does whenever he is drunk, and that he should NOT drink. But he is Sameer and he never ever listens to me.

I love him and he knows that. I proposed him, say told him 3 months back, and asked him if he wants to be in a relationship. He refused then; he still refuses to be in one. He reasons that I am a great friend, but somehow, he doesn’t feel like, you know, feel like being in a relationship with me. In short, though he is never blunt, but he means that he, he doesn’t love me. And for all those two years of unexpectedly longer friendship, he has all the right to say that! It’s my fault after all that I ended up loving him. And that he screws around all night every weekend from one girl to another doesn’t bother me. Though he has never told me about any of his one-night stands, Rambo told me once. I tell you, it doesn’t bother me. Actually it does, but then, it’s not that big an issue. He is under no obligation not to screw around with those chicks. Neither he is in a relationship, nor he wants to be into one. Who am I to tell him whom to fuck and whom not to.

Leave it. Rambo called me at 10:15pm and panicked that Sameer had gone bizarre, shattered a few mirrors at Dunnhumby night club and was mumbling my name on repeat mode since an hour. Its 10:25pm, and I am on my way, driving to GK-II, nothing new, to take him back to his apartment.  Let him die Piya, why should you bother? He never comes to rescue you when you need him. He never calls you back when you cry. But then, it was never about me or what I liked. He could have definitely been taken to his villa without me. But I was addicted; I needed a reason to be with him. I was miserable.

“Quick! Else he’ll burn them alive!” Rambo laughed out loud, locked my car in a hurry and literally pulled me up the stairs. Sameer was doing some serious shit, he said. He told more of his stories as we climbed the first floor, and his words faded in the deafening uproar of the disc.

“Here you go”, he shouted into my ears as we opened the door and entered the chaotic clamour. Rambo disappeared in the dark; a flicker of sparkling lights was the only aid to visibility. I spied inside every corner to search for Sameer. So desperate I was to have him in front of me. I will slap him as soon as he comes in front, I said to myself. And then I saw him, over the counter. He was leaning over some girl. She wasn’t a girl, a woman in fact. I wore a jeans and a top, she adored the shortest one-piece. I pulled him off his shoulder, “Sameer!” I shrieked into his ears.

“Piya!” he bellowed back melodramatically and almost fell. He spilled his mug with little beer over my top. That wasn’t a concern. I looked at the woman who responded with a wide grin. I replied back with a suspicious smile. I pulled Sameer up to the counter again. “Piya, she is Riya. Riya, Piya. Piya, Riya!” and he laughed into tears. I made sure he doesn’t fall again. That Riya gave a devilish laugh as well. She was as drunk as he was.

I felt a strange little insecurity. “Sameer, come with me. There’s too much of smoke in here. We’ll go up to the roof.” I ensured that Riya doesn’t come up, and despite lot of his protest, I took him to the roof. He tumbled ‘n’ number of times through the staircase.

Surprisingly, there was no one on the roof. Else it was an all-night spot for smokers who weren’t permitted inside. We sat on the lounge sofa, Sameer leaned over me. I had a thousand thoughts rolling within my head. Never I wanted to see him in such a miserable situation. Unexpected tears stood on the verge of explosion. I felt a little tremble in my hands. There was Sameer, lying on my lap, mumbling and yelling and crying unknowingly. We were friends for two years, but never had he been physically so close to me. I took his hands into mine. I don’t know what I am going to do. I feel sudden temptations to do everything that I wanted to do with him; suddenly tempted to commit all crimes and to fulfil all my ambitions that he would never permit in senses. I positioned his right arm around my waist and his left hand on my face. I don’t know if he will remember all that the next morning. He was out of his senses I am sure; he was mumbling and yelling and crying unknowingly. Tears fell down from my eyes on to his face. Why would he not love me, and why would he not accept my proposal! I wept and wept, and kissed him on his forehead. He wasn’t aware of what was happening all around. I bent forward to kiss him on his lips. Just a little more distance, we almost did.

“Sameer!” entered Riya through the roof door. Sameer sprung up on her voice and sat up straight on the sofa. I wiped away my tears with the tissue and behaved as if nothing had happened. Why should I feel guilty? What for should I be guilty of? I was unaware. Riya tumbled over a beer bottle and fell over the sofa. I got up and before I could take some action, Sameer had caught her into his arms. They hugged as tightly as inseparable and began to laugh monstrously. I stood and watched, and he kissed her on her lips.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was so passionate a smooch, out of absolute lust, that I held my own breath for a moment. Tears weren’t there in my eyes; eyes were so engrossed watching the vigour. They fell down on the floor and rolled once or twice over each other. They smooched harder. He tore apart the zip of her one-piece; she tore his shirt. Now that she was naked, he opened his belt. There was only so much passion a human body can exhilarate. I watched the animalistic crudeness. She unbuttoned her bra, and he found his hands within it. I watched, dumbstruck.

As soon as he buried his face within her bust, I turned my face away. I trembled, and tears burst out. I covered my face with my hands. I actually hid myself from me. He wasn’t the Sameer for whom I wasted two precious years of my life. Why should I want to watch him fuck that whore, but so miserable I was that I turned again to the matinee scene. I watched him fuck her and listened to those loud screams of hers. I found myself wet underneath. Blood was boiling within. I felt an electric rush within my body, my legs were shaking, and before I could think whether I should take a decision or not, I took a bottle full of beer, shouted on top of my lungs and broke it on his ass as forcefully as I could.

The bottle didn’t break properly, it just leaked. His ass did break for sure. Poor man, he was just about to climax. Riya could not take the pressure, she chocked as she screamed. I felt relieved. I felt relaxed. I came down to my car, wiping away my tears. Blood was streaming from my right foot; a little piece of the bottle tore apart my skin. I didn’t care. I drove my car into reverse gear and came out of the street to the main road. I took a quick turn, and raced towards my home.

If those two years were painful to wait, that one moment of watching your loved one fucking someone else was liberating. I smiled and laughed while driving. It was 11.30pm. I called my dad, and told him how much I loved him. I called countless of my friends that night; friends whom I ignored for past several months, thanks to my Sameer addiction.

I got 23 calls from Sameer the next day. Needless to say, I did not receive one. He never called me again. I tried to never think of him. It was difficult, but I learnt. I once met Riya at Barista, we hugged each other. She never met Sameer after that disastrous day. She got married two months back; I sat with the couple for two hours and we are really good friends.

But sometimes, I do remember that blood that rushed from my foot that night. After all, it was the first and the last blood that did not cause any pain. The blood was refreshing in itself. It was liberation. It was discovery. It was something new. It was me.