LION’S DEN (A SHORT STORY)

LION’S DEN (A SHORT STORY)

The crowd swelled up by evening. Almost the entire afternoon he was alone in that watering hole. Sukumar’s face was deep immersed in a smoke screen left behind by his burning cigarettes, as he sipped mugs after mugs of chilled beer. Nestled between array of shops selling discounted clothes, Lion’s Den has a notorious reputation. They say it was the first official pub to come up in the city way back in the 50s.

Before that public drinking was a rarity. The elite would drink behind guarded walls of clubs, and poor would indulge in merry-making in pavements itself. The pub polluted the educated middle-class. Now, they have a space to indulge in immorality, as liquor freely flowed from delicately designed imported bottles.

They say pub opened up innumerable doors for criminals to indulge in heinous activities. While drinkers swallowed their money and homely happiness in Lion’s Den, criminals with their puckered faces and equally puckered intentions went after their hunts with utmost successes. It jolted the public from their normal routine. Now they have to be extra alert. The alert cops were equally jolted. But they were helpless.

They could not do much, except for registering rise in crime rate in their notebook. Instances of rape, which were earlier unheard of, strangulated the city out of its pace. A thin flimsy layer of fear lurks over the city’s horizon. Unseen fear, fear residing inside the bushes of neighbourhood, fear in public spaces, fear in deserted alleys, fear in high society parties, fear in mind and body, fear even started breeding alongside mosquitoes in dirty stinking drains spread across the city.

One place that was happy and laughing aloud was Lion’s Den. Making profit in millions. It inspired many to open up similar ventures. Milk might be in scare in the city, but not alcohol. Was it happy hour from 11am to 6pm, boldly engraved in a huge yellow and green board hanging at the entrance of Lion’s Den that had hypnotised him to revisit the place after 15 years of gap, or was it intentional judging by recent events of his life?

“Whatever,” Sukumar mumbled between his breathe. “Excuse me Sir, you need something?” the young bartender attending him all this while, came rushing in to please his client. “Do me a favour. Leave me alone.” Sukumar realised his mistake of being rude. But he did not feel like asking for an apology.

“That way I would end up rendering apologies to the whole world,” he smiled to himself. The only table that had been left empty in the 30-sitter room was occupied by a love stuck couple. The huge clock hanging in the distant wall declared—10pm. “I can drink for one more hour, before it shuts down,” Sukumar settled for another beer pitcher.


*******************


He was nervous and laughing awkwardly. Perhaps in the garb of a happy face he was hiding his inner turmoil. Two most important events of his life awaited him. “Would I get the job? Would she marry me, or succumb to the pressure of her parents and marry her NRI fiancé?”

Volcano of thoughts exploded Sukumar’s bearing. His friends--Ajay and Surya--broke into first few stanzas of “Everything I do, I do it for you..”, perhaps the only English song known by his friend circle. Adithya, Rakesh, and Mohan clapped enthusiastically to keep the momentum of the song alive. Sukumar was lost in his world. His physical presence was a clever pretension.

He hoodwinked everyone in believing that he was part of the youthful gang. He was attached and detached at the same time. He beautifully managed to portray a fake smile, as part of his participation in the roller coaster ride. They all had saved for a month to come to Lion’s Den, to mark the end of their university days. They had asked for whiskey, the finest for their pockets to endure.

Sukumar’s priorities had changed. He wanted the corporate job desperately. The interview was long and grilling. Job opportunities were few and far between. Liberalisation was almost a decade away in India. His father could not afford to pay for the bribe a local politician was asking for to fix his job in a government department. Owning a business enterprise was deemed lowly in his family of academicians and doctors.

“If I don’t get this job, Jaya has to marry her fiancé,” Sukumar blurted out all of a sudden. Song came to an abrupt halt. Friends looked anxiously at him. “All will be fine. Don’t worry you will get the job. Trust us. Now, enjoy your drink,” the five almost sang in unison. The comical timing of his friends’ consolation genuinely touched his happy chord. He smiled, this time from his heart.

**********


Jaya had never expressed her displeasure at Sukumar’s drinking habit. She had adjusted herself well with the fact that in a high flying corporate job her husband had to drink, to be part of the crowd. Sukumar has always been a moderate drinker, but he drinks almost every day. Past few months saw some unpleasant changes. Sukumar would sit alone in his reading room and drink till the wee hours of morning. Initially Jaya would ignore it as work related stress.

However, the day she found her husband lying unconscious on the floor, surrounded in a pool of undigested food materials, which probably he had thrown out from his mouth, everything changed between Sukumar and Jaya. The sight appalled her. But, it was Sukumar’s indifference towards the whole episode which appalled her the most. The next day he was again found in his reading room drinking.

“Sukumar you need to mend your ways. You’re on bed rest, but still drinking. What’s wrong with you?” Jaya could not stop her irritation. “Leave me alone. I am fine,” is what Sukumar managed to reply back. Present is perfect, future too seems rosy. Then what is wrong with Sukumar. It was his past, a past episode that haunted him.

Sukumar had kept the secret to himself. In the rigmarole of his life it was buried in the deep abyss of memories. He could not believe himself that suddenly it would resurface into the forefront. First it had re-entered into his life. Then slowly it started following him everywhere. Now the secret has taken the form of a shadow in itself. His secret has grown bigger than him.

So, big that it has dwarfed him into a pigmy. Nobody can see him now. He too was almost blind to his surroundings. He left his job. Then Jaya left him with their two children. His house was sold off to pay his surmounting bills. His penury was talk of the corporate circle. Unbelievable, the most shining star of corporate world of Bangalore fading away into oblivion,” his peers would wonder. He however was not surprised. His priorities had changed again.

*************


Sukumar’s regularity at Lion’s Den is a legend by now. He is the most loyal patron of the pub. Earlier he would be the first one to arrive at Lion’s Den every afternoon, and the last to leave at night. As unpaid bills piled on, managerial decision of Lion’s Den barred Sukumar from making his entry.

The ban had no effect on him. He stuck to his routine. Every afternoon he would buy packets of arrack (the cheap local brew) and sit in front of entry point of Lion’s Den and drink to his delight. As a custom he would greet visitors before they could enter Lion’s Den. “Cheers!”

Rain (A SHORT STORY)

I set foot on her city on a partly cloudy afternoon.
The deep dark patches were roaring in agony. I thought the sky would burst into an incessant song and rid of the constant pain before pouring out unrestrained. Strangely, my wish did not come true. In a few minutes, the clouds started dancing, changing their shape and space constantly. But they looked audacious, unrelenting, and perhaps intoxicated in some kind of vague pride, decided to remain there in a state of suspended animation for almost a week, till the time I left her and her city forever. I had gone there to complete some unfinished businesses on behalf of my employers. How was I supposed to know that I would meet a person who would become a constant realisation of things left half done for the rest of my life! While I remained busy slogging and bartering my way to complete the task assigned to me by my employers, she perhaps roamed about the narrow alleys of her city — in search of me.


I did not know she existed, breathed the same air and lived in the same city that would one day become my city in the abode of my mind. I had sensed her presence every moment I stayed in her city, but ignored those incomprehensible thoughts as images built inside the vortex of a tired mind. I thought it was one of those delusionary moments you undergo when left alone in an unknown island with a huge task to accomplish. I had told myself clearly that the purpose of my visit was purely professional and until I bring a logical end to the entrusted work, I would block all visual and auditory sensations from my mind.

However, at times, you have to surrender to unknown realities of life, something never explained in any book of logic. I, too, surrendered to the unknown feeling tickling my senses as she appeared in front of me. Full of life and a smile that was fixed in her eyes... Her appearance was not anything dramatic. She was the way I thought and dreamt her to be, almost exactly. She had a round and plain face, comparatively taller than most Indian women, but it was her deep blue eyes-- unbelievably beautiful—where I almost got lost. Time passed off quickly, five days flew off in a jiffy. All I did was work. At night after coming back to my hotel room, I would open the window to look at the sky. Clouds would hover all over the space. As if the sky had lost its eternal façade of blue. All that remained were huge cotton balls of black and white. Grey would appear intermittently, making it clear that its appearance is needed to keep the mystery of life alive.


I would wonder endlessly, “What was holding back those patches of cloud?” Perhaps, love! My work was almost over and employers happy with my performance, extended my trip for two more days to enjoy the weekend in her city. The e-mail from one of my bosses read, “You are a diligent worker, we are proud of you. Enjoy the weekend in the city before resuming work on Monday.” I was slightly confused, “What do I do in her city? I don’t know a single soul here except for the constant sense of her presence. Is it enough to stay back?” Saturday arrived quietly. The sluggishness of weather outside had seeped inside me. A sense of stillness had fastened me tight, almost like those clouds balancing themselves over the endless sky. “Or, are those thoughts of her too good to wake me up?” I dreamt of dreaming about her dreams again and again. Next day, I remained in my hotel room bed till late in the afternoon.

I had no clue what to do in her city. By now, I could see the ominous black clouds lingering all over the place. They had cried out furiously a few times. But did not rain even then. I had a quick shower. Smoked a few cigarettes over cups of coffee in the hotel Cafeteria, and decided to take a stroll in her city. I greeted children and hawkers on the pavements, lovers lost in each other’s embrace, old women begging at the traffic signal, glassy showrooms selling fashionable clothes from Paris, line of trees washed in dust…I saw what I wanted to see in her city. Then I felt like returning to my room and again take a look outside the window at the same sky and clouds playing hide and seek. However, I decided otherwise and move ahead till I reached a huge patch of green land, something that resembled a park.

There were trees all around it, grass was neatly manicured and the music was loud. Evening had just descended by then and the crowd swelled slowly. A popular rock band was all set to play in sometime. I followed the crowd and found myself amid a huge sea of people, laughing, giggling, shoving each other to find their rightful place and cheer like maniacs to welcome their favourite rock stars. The force pushed me to an admirable place from where I could have a proper view of the podium, still waiting for the musicians to arrive.

Almost when I was intently following the pace of the rushing crowd, I saw her standing next to me. She was quick to greet me, “Hello!” I acknowledged her presence with a smile. For a few seconds I could not believe that she would find her way to reach me. “Or, I was pulled towards her?” “So, you like music?” I was too lost in her gaze, her sweet smell, her constant movement of lips, to satisfy her curiosity. “Yes, but not the crowd.” “Then let us move to our space.” I took a backward turn from the crowd and followed her haphazard steps to quickly rescue ourselves from the clutches of the ever-increasing crowd.


In a few minutes we were outside the park. Vehicles zipped past us. I stood still. She kept her eyes fixed on me. “Come, Let us move out of here,” she smiled and guided me to her car. I was not looking anywhere. Not even at her. But, ended up asking her, “So, we know each other?” “No. Is it needed?” The car started on a jarring note. It moved fast. By now I could make out she is not comfortable behind the wheels. She struggled, at times cursed at the maddening traffic, errant drivers and everything annoying that greeted us on the road. I did not do much. Nor did I ask her anything, quietly followed her like a shadow—almost silent and obedient. After an hour and a half, we had travelled enough. From the landscape staring at us from the window pane I gauged we had reached a suburb. The roads were less burdened with vehicles, human presence and commercial establishment. In between, I had located a few houses, painted in multiple-coloured hues, from the images reflected back by street lights pitched at an equidistant in the entire stretch.

It was almost 9pm, and suddenly I felt discomfort hitting my belly and I realised I was hungry and longed to eat a heavy meal. Perhaps she had sensed my inner craving, and stopped her car near a roadside dhaba. We ordered enough food for the two of us and ate in a state of haste. Then suddenly she started laughing with her mouth full of food. A few grains of food started flying out of her mouth and observing their trajectory, for the first time we looked into each other’s eyes and remained fixed in the gaze. I wanted to know who she was, and asked her name. “What is your name?’ She refused to reveal. “I am you. Do you need to know my name? Call me stranger…” The time which we spent together, mostly inside her car, as we took various routes touching upon couple of villages in the neighbourhood of her city, I tried to know her name several times. And, every time she pretended not to hear me.

All she told me was that she had a daughter and a husband. I thought perhaps she wants to protect her identity, her marriage, and a bit of her life. I did not poke further. For almost an hour or so, we decided to park the car near a secluded place, which perhaps leads to another township. Both of us decided to sleep for a while, before returning back to her city. Her eyes were almost red with tiredness.

We both dozed off. When we woke up my hands were tightly holding her left arm. I quickly freed her of my embrace, fearing an angry retort. As I took my hands off her, she was smiling at me. She came closer and we felt each other’s lips. My fingers moved all over her face, and tears rolling down her cheeks had moistened my palms. I rubbed them dry, but she kept on crying. I could not ask her to stop crying. Nor did she say anything before starting the car engine. Dawn had already arrived and I noted in my mind, it was already Sunday. After more than an hour, we reached the vicinity of her city. She told me, I need to get off her car, and a taxi stand was just five minutes walk from where she dropped me.

I agreed with a nod. Before I could leave her alone in her car, she kissed me hard and handed me a small sheet of paper with a phone number. “My phone number, call me when you feel like.” I walked out of her car, and stood still as she drove past me. I reached the taxi stand, but did not stop and kept walking for almost two hours. My feet started aching and that is when I decided to stop. I sat on the road side as a mild breeze tickled my bone. I looked up at the sky. The clouds were moving fast, they had all broken up into tiny little pieces and looked like a bunch of enthusiastic trekkers climbing a high mountain route. I thought rains were on their way. A bus driver took notice of me and stopped right in front of me. I managed to grab a seat in the awkwardly tiny bus, where around 50-odd people were crammed together, few sitting on each other’s laps, few on the floors even as I saw a few legs dangling from the roof top of the bus, touching the window pane as and when the vehicle negotiated some uncomfortable turn.

The bus stopped after every 15 minutes, as passengers and goods got loaded and unloaded. It seemed like an eternity, I thought this journey would not end soon. I tried to crane my neck out of the window and have a view of the sky. But forces playing all around and fighting a battle to sit and relax inside the bus, which stinking rich with human odour and smiles, left me with little choice. I was looking at them, but all I could see was her face. The face of the stranger that smiled at me, the mouth that kissed me, the arm that took me in hers. Afternoon was humid when I reached my hotel lobby. I ran to my room and dialed the phone number she gave me. It rang for a while and a child answered.

Before I could say hello, the soft voice in an agitated tone revealed, “Mummy is dead. Dad is busy with the police, please call later.” The line got disconnected. I started packing my bag. The weather bulletin later revealed her city received a torrential rain the day I left it forever.