Their Story - At the bar and after

"Can i just see you once tonight?" she inquired.

"Yes you can." he said. "You can see me tonight.
I will come alone in the glassy night.
Will usher a storm of broken twigs
and bring with it the strength of light.
You will be dazzled like sparrows are when they look straight into the sun ...alright
but you will see me Yes... You will see me tonight"

“You seem somberly poetic. What’s the matter ?” she retorted with an uneven baritone.

“Prose my dear, is such waste of words. Deemed to fail where sounds coerce,

Despite they stem from roots all same… words are words; (there’s) music in verse”

“So what makes the sky so blue and the blade’s green does color impart?

What evil does your head conjure? And what motions will your soul start?

..See I can play too…!!”. The heartless wench stood glorious. The sun shining in her pride.

“You complete me now.. I wish I could say..

Yet cautious is the path to love.. and beset with misgivings unknown to fools,

Though carries close two broken hearts;

Yet many a time it leads away”

“Ok! I know you like words. But this is really disturbing. So, let me be shameless and complete your verse.

You might like words and love you would

A grimly room with whiskey’s cup..

But I do swear to all my gods..

You sleep alone if you don’t ‘Shut the fuck up!!”

And he did.

***********

“The world, you see, is not trying to be saved. It wants to burn. Burn with rage and a mutiny so horrid with violence that all the water from the glaciers up north or all the tears from the widows of men won’t heal it. And believe you me, that day is not far.” She said as she downed the fourth shot of vodka.

He was taking it slow tonight.

“You seem overly poetic in prose tonight.”

“Well what would make you say so?”

“The fact that you took our moot point of global warming on our 43^rd date quite far. A possibility of a fire riot is kind of far fetched.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Hmmm… so I guess the vodka is working. I feel free.” She sounded exalted.

“No.. honey.. what you feel is precisely a chemical condition where your heart betrays your mind… your brain does not like it one bit and triggers a biological reaction making your muscles weak there by restraining the heart’s wishes.. spiraling you in a maze of inner conflict and disillusioned self loathing which stems from your hatred for humanity in the first place… an argument which you would dismiss without considering one bit….” he stopped for a sip of his own drink.

She considered a bit. She dismissed. Then began:

“Funny thing.. coming from an alcoholic himself…. And back in our days people just called it ‘sloshed’…. And you being pedantic about your girlfriend drinking at an open bar about an event which supports kids from child abuse by alcoholic parents is a testimony to how full of shit you are…”

“You took it too far. The evening is over. I love you too much to pay heed to your rationality” he got up from the table in a hurry.

“Oh! Now you speak sense!!… What happens when the vacation is over? With me sulking over  you and you away rattling your time in a cold country, oceans apart… which by the way drinks booze like kids drink milk”

“Statistically speaking … not all kids love milk.. actually well below 45% kids in the united king…..”

“Oh! You can shove your stats and stats-fucking-company up your torrid tight ass”

He did. He loved her way too much to be rational with her. Rationality kills fantasy. Fiction dare not reside where reason lays its ass.

“Let me walk you home. You are drunk”

“You bet your ass I am. And you will be a gentleman and not take advantage of me”

“Do I bet my ‘torrid-tight-ass’ ?’ he smiled with a wink. She kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you” she said.

“I know you do.” He put his arm around her shoulder and carried her purse.

“Might I say that the purse looks astounding on you” her words lacked the cynicism of an avid drinker.

“No madam.. You look astounding on me.. the purse is just a collateral ornament”

She walked erratically. Joining imaginary dots on the road. He followed like a dog smitten with a bone.

She was drunk for the first time. He was not. It was a first too.

“So …wh…at happens…. when you go…………. away?” she asked in broken verse.

“We deal with it”

“How?”

“Like lovers do. Being honest and truthful” he spoke with an air of disillusionment.

“Fuck you” she swore at length.

“I know”

“That is not something to know. That is something to work on”

“I am on it. Your apartment is here”

“Come on in. Nehal would love to meet you.” She lingered.

“Really? It is 2 am. She would be fast asleep”

“You seem to know her sleep times quite well.. mister.. should I be suspicious?” she slapped him on the cheek and fell over in the exercise.

“Not after you know that statistically speaking, more than 80% of the human population sleeps by 2 am. It is called as routine” he held her hand and pulled her from the floor.

“Alright! She might be asleep. But come in for my sake… also.. did I not ask you to shove things up your torrid-tight-ass”

“What sake? You are drunk. You should sleep. Like the remaining 20% who are about to go to sleep in the next 30 mins.”

“That should be enough…” she whistled through the cold air.

A drunk eye winked. A hug was bought in compensation for a slap. A kiss was procured by promises made old by enthused clocks. An arm was held at an arm’s length. Words were spoken in soft hush of the night only to be engulfed by the dark. Ears failed. The eye would not see.

Motion ceased for an hour. Not all love stories deserved this.

“My flight leaves in 3 hours. I really need to go..” he talked to her hair.

No response came. The words reached her ears but did not register in her brain. Brain and heart had not made out since the 7^th shot.

Someone somewhere played a song. He laughed at the words…

John Denver adjusted his throat before he began singing from an old stereo…

’All my bags are packed.. I am ready to go..

……..’

She woke up after 5 mins. Alone.

“Don’t..” she said, incapacitated by the slumber. Half asleep, half mourning the last 15 mins lost in oblivion. She slept on the floor that night.

He did not sleep at all….

(..to be continued)