The Call- Part one

The hall was filled. People, all around, clattering each other’s thoughts, diving into each other’s minds, all of them there, for one sole and single purpose. For Art, for the artist; people in a fraught filled effort, of getting hold of those masterpieces. 

“The next sculpture to be auctioned is ‘The Golden One’. Can we get the sculpture on the stage please?” The auctioneer said is a plain, yet hard tone. He was not someone interested in art. He liked milk and bread. Milk and bread did not come for free, they cost. The work took care of those costs. 

“They say, this is the best work Anuj has ever put up. All of his blood and soul and mind and might, in those seven sculptures.”Someone in the crowd grasped.

One of the most awaited exhibition cum auction of the year was happening, and the most extraordinary and astonishing fact was that the artist could not be seen anywhere. Anuj Saxena was a missing man. Then again, it was not something new. 

“Where is he anyway?” another voice in the crowd asked to the person, sitting right next to him, though he had no idea to whom he was talking, or what the person did. It was considered to be elegant and cultured, to have such talks, save, it made them feel good and it made them feel that other’s thought of them as good. So much for the sake of others!

“No one really knows where he is. As if he cares a fuck about all of these actions. The word is, he never deals with them. It’s all Manager Management.” He replied.

“What?”

“His manager. He takes care of it. He arranges all of it. Anuj never shows up. As a matter of fact, I guess the world has forgotten how he looks like.” Came the plain reply.

“Six lacs, sixty thousand, one. Six lacs, sixty thousand two. Six lacs, sixty thousand, three.
Sold, to the young man, right there.” Amidst everything, the auction continued.

Outside the hall, somewhere in the alley, someone lighted a cigarette.

***

The city had been drenched with the rains. Water droplets, like the ones that cling on to the metal sheets and bars were dripping down, one by one, in their own synchronous motions. There were patches on the road, of petrol, of diesel, which gleamed, occasionally when a vehicle passed by, and light fell on it. Amongst all of it was a figure, sitting in between those puddles of water. The clothes were all soaked in water and sweat. He had long hair, of black colour, the perfect shade. His shirt and jeans, both, had patches all over it, of mud, of grease and of blood. The sources, yet unknown! 

He leaned backwards, on one of his hands, holding the cigarette in the other. Each time, the wind blew, his hair would blend into its motion, at times covering, at times revealing his face. Every time he took the nicotine in, for that spilt second his eyes sparked red. Each time, he let out the smoke, he would look upwards, chasing those tiny goblets of smokes, until they disappeared like everything, into the darkness of the night, away from the striking lights of the street lamps. 

People who knew him were anything but comfortable when he was around or when talking about him. A little more than unpredictable and a few steps higher than insane, people had put him onto the list of people, who they thought were weird. Growing up, all that he did was wandering and going to random places, most of the times without notice, returning back, after a week or so, every time. He attended, school, just for the sake of learning drawing and English. Everything else for him, well, he never cared those existed, in the first place. He profoundly loathed them. No wonder, he was thrown out. A good number of odd jobs and a little more than a decade later, he was, today, the country’s one of the most exquisite sculptor.  

He never used all of the money that he earned. Some he gave in charity, other’s he burned down the drain; an act, he considered the closest to his heart, an operation that was most sacred to him, out of all . He smoked, he doped, he slept, he ate, he worked, that’s what the world’s knowledge is about him, or rather, what he made the world believe. The reality, however, had one more element added to his otherwise simple living, chaos. Chaos around him, in his head, in his heart, and in his body.

***

She was just out of the hall, disappointed. She had expected to get a glance of him, at least here. After all, it was one of the most important days of his life. He was getting back at the world, with all of his might and force, who once told him that he was nothing but a mere debacle, who, due to unforeseen circumstances and the worst possible choice of events, had shot to fame. Retribution day it was, or at least, that was what the papers had portrayed of the event.

‘Anuj Saxena, ascends today? A call that cannot yet be made!’ one of the papers had read. 

Why she was here, had nothing to do, neither with the art, nor with his success. All that she wanted was his glimpse, a small little slant of his, so that she could capture it. Not in her heart, not for the rest of her lives, but into her equipment. Anuj Saxena had not made a public appearance in years, and it would have been lot more than a promotion and a salary hike, in case she would have been able to pull it off. It would have offered her, her own chance at redemption and retribution. She wished for it, only if the wishes came true. 

She walked out, on to the main road, a car screeched past her, only to bring her back to the dark night, that it was. She was not sad, rather disappointed, or more than that, in despair. By hook or by crook, she had always gotten hold of what she wanted; save, the case was not the same this time. She took, out her lighter, and started searching for a cigarette. Her nails were long, and so were her arms. They were tender, and so were her shoulders, visible to the naked eyes, because she was dressed that way that day. Every time the wind blew, she would run her lands, all over each other, from shoulders till her wrists, in an attempt to warm them up, moving swiftly over the goose bump feeling, that she was having. Rather, the air itself was playing a game tonight. Her scent was so impending, so ineludible, that even the air hit her, again and again, just so as to get the feminine scent of her. Long legs, white thighs, full breasts, irresistible pink lips, wavy and curly hair. Her physical attributes had helped her a lot in her career so far, to get into places where no one else could, but then, this was different; here was failure and disappointment. 

She had to smoke, smoke desperately, but she had none left. She walked, walked fast, and almost walked into a street sign. She sighed! Why was she not getting any sighs? Then somewhere in the silence of the alley, she saw someone smoking. Her first reaction was to get herself home, as soon as possible, but then what nicotine has to offer, overpowers every feeling, even the ones of getting ravished. She walked into the alley, stood besides the man, who she thought was nothing more than a street side musician.

“I could use a smoke” she declared.

“I could share one” came the reply. He wasn’t even looking at her.

She sat next to him, on the pavement. Her dress got wet, but she could care less. He took out a cigarette and passed it on to her. She lighted it. At the same moment, he looked at her. The next moment, the cigarette fell off, from her mouth, onto her thighs. A burn mark, left behind.

***

“Are you.....”

“Yes, I am. The conversation ends here.” Anuj said.

She pouted. Swarna had never been treated like this, by anyone. She was used to getting all of the attention, that never in her life, she had been devoid of any male presence in her life. And here, the tables had turned completely, nothing in her favour, everything against her. She had almost put a tombstone on the grave of her desire to her a picture of him, after the first interaction that she had with him. He made her feel uncomfortable. Not a commonplace at all, she thought.

“I am Swarna. I am a photographer.”

“You click me and put me up in the papers, and I swear, the city monument would wake up to a hanging corpse the next morning. Try me.”

“Why are you so rude?” she darted back at him

“Why do you want to have a conversation!” he puzzled her more

“That’s what people do, when they are together.” She tried to sound convincing

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five.”

“That’s the most convincing sentence that you have learned in the twenty five years of your life?”

“I had no wisdom endowed upon myself, you see. I learned things the manual way” she chocked

He sensed, her was being way too rude. He did not know why he was doing that though. That’s how he was. When human emotions make the individual talk, nothing stands in its way, nothing.

“I didn’t mean to, though. I was thinking something else” he tried consoling her. He put his arm around her.

“It’s okay. You had no reason to be rude to me. I knew it was something else.”

“So what do you do?”

“I click Mr. Saxena, I click.”

“Anuj will be good. Any work in your camera?”

“Only if you would show some interest.” She giggled. Her eyes, already smudged with kohl, sparkled for the first time, in the evening.

Together, they went through her pictures. Their hands rubbed against each other at times, and her hair flew into his face. He touched her fingers, and she felt his hand. When she turned, her elbows crashed into those strong muscles of his torso. When he moved, his upper arm, rubbed against the side of her body, at times touching her breasts and bare arm. Their eyes never met, but their bodies spoke. She almost knew where this whole thing was headed to. He, however, was into her work.

“What time is it?” he inquired

“A little past ten.”

“You should go. It’s late. ” he said, as plainly as he could

“You would not want to come over for a coffee? You would not want to drop me off?” she seemed surprised. This was not how, she thought things will end.

“Why? What’s the need?” he was puzzled now. “Do you want me to come? Coffee, no. I am yet to have my dinner. Besides, I am waiting for someone, rather something.”

“I can fix something up if you want.”

“I thought I asked you to leave. If you want, I can get you a cab. The smoke’s got extinguished long back. It is time that you get going.” He was almost on the verge of getting angry.

Swarna, on the other hand, was surprised, confused, and disappointed again. For a moment, she thought this was a new beginning out of nowhere, and then, as quickly as it came, it was snatched away from her. Even before she could feel the pulse of things, even before she could grasp, the feeling was murdered, and the emotion was butchered.

Just then, his phone rang.

“Anuj, where are you?” the person individual inquired.

“A place where I belong.” He was calm in his reply. As if, he was very much waiting for the phone call.

 “What happened?” he added.

“Ash had called.” Came the reply. “It’s about Isha. What have you done to her man? What?”

“I have not seen her in days.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What do you want? I am here, in middle of something.”

“Apparently, Ash wants to know where you are. She wants you to go and visit Isha.”

“Not tonight James. It is a busy day at work, you see. You arranged it for all, you should know.” He cunningly said, eying the girl who was almost about to leave. He whistled. She looked back. He motioned her to stay back.

“Nothing. I am just going to have a little fun tonight. Tell Ash that I am getting laid, and she can say whatever she wants to, to Isha. As of now, that is all, that I can say.”

He hung up as soon as he said that. James was confused. More than a manager, he was Anuj’s friend, someone who knew him since childhood. He did not know why he was doing it, but he knew there was some purpose. He dialled Ash’s number.

 “What did the asshole say?” she growled

“You want to talk, or want me to hang up on you?” he darted back, with all the fury.

“What did your FRIEND say?” she tried to sound calm

“He will be staying at someone’s place tonight. He has got the company of an old friend. That’s what he said.”

“Bloody motherfucking bastard. He will pay for whatever he is doing to that poor girl. He will”

“What are you talking about?” he tried to act, as if he did not know what was going on.

“Don’t you dare act naive James, don’t you. Not now, not right fucking now. I know he is fucking somebody tonight.  And yeah, he has to pay for all of these.”

“If he has to, he will. You do not have to worry about it.”

“Tell me James. Why is he doing this to her, why?”

James had hung up, already. He had another question in his mind.
Why is he doing this to himself? Why?



.................................................................................................... to be continued