Broken Hug

Plan

Rohan stirred in his sleep. He was still inside the silent wood  The birds chirped and twittered but their songs failed to reach his ears. He stretched his hand and gestured to the birds, but before they could see his hand calling them, it fell on the bed. His body was still weak. His eyes opened further, and he sat up in slow measures. Yes, that was The Wood of Silence – with the avenue of trees as if I was lost – circling in my brain. And within it, the bar came into focus, the smoky beings dancing, and simultaneously, the flesh-and-blood Charoen dancing with me here, in my house.

            In the midst of all this a part of his mind was captured with Charoen’s second drawing. He got out of bed and freshening up, he closed the main door behind him. 

He could hardly walk. He stopped in between and sat on a chair outside a small general store. He looked around. Activity went on in its usual way. People went in and out of shops. Motorcyclists zoomed past; office men and women in white shirts and black trousers or skirts hopped in and out of cabs; Big C looked busy and colourful with its gigantic banner. Rohan got up and plodded along.

            On reaching Charoen’s flat he found her looking out of the balcony seated on a garden chair. Occupying the seat beside her, he told her about the writings on his wall.

            “Who do you think it could be?”

            Charoen was silent, picturing the writings.

            “The finger points to Ravi,” she said at last.   “He glances at me in class more than the others. During break, he is quick to walk down to the cafeteria with me. Sometimes he is quicker than Hetal. But should we draw any conclusion as of now?”

            When Charoen returned with two cups of coffee, he told her about his collapsing on the floor of his back yard.

            “What?” and she immediately felt his stomach, and turning, her face twisted into a little smile. “How's that possible?”

            “Someone is trying to harm me.”

            “But why, Rohan?”

            “I think because I still love Fai.”

Charoen stared at the floor.

            “If that’s the thing, why attack?”

            “Because love is so powerful, it can make a third party go mad.”

            “You mean to repeat the cliche all’s fair in love and war.”

            He told her about the Wood of Silence and the smoky beings.

            “And soon a bar appeared and inside it the smoky beings were dancing.”

            “And I dreamt,” Charoen said, “You and I were dancing in this room.”

            A stupefied look covered his face.

            “And I dreamt you and I were at my house, dancing.” 

            “And before that were squeak and thud sounds,”

            Rohan stared at her, surprise written on his face.

            “How do you know about the squeak and thud sounds? Did you hear them?”

            She nodded. She did not tell him the Ash Man had helped her by placing his thumb on her forehead and allowing her to see.

            “There is so much to know, Charoen,” he sighed and held her hand. “So much of surprises that one finds it difficult to predict what the next surprise is.”

            Resting her cheek on his arm, she looked at his face. “The night made me listen to its command, and I gradually walked out of my flat and out of the building. I reached Relax, and everything there appeared strange. The furniture was there, but in a moment they were missing. The legless man was singing some other stanza of the song I sang when I was painting.” 

            “Everything will fall into place, Charoen.” He paused, wrapping her in a gentle and warm embrace. “Once when I find Fai everything will be ok.” He looked into her eyes. “Won’t you help me find her?”

            “Of course Rohan, my sweetheart.” And saying that she cuddled closer to him.

            In a trice he removed her away.

            “Charoen, here I’m telling you about Fai, and not about anyone else.”

            Her eyes glowed, and the pupils turned green. She breathed heavily. But realizing Rohan was around, she tightened her fists.

            “It’s ok, Rohan. I’m sorry.”

            Charoen brought two cups of steaming coffee and cookies.

            “Your fav beverage.”

            “Yes. But the Deathwish Coffee. That’s my best brand.”

            “Umm… Ok. I’ll get it from Imperial World the next time I go there for purchases.”

            “I’m afraid it’s rarely sold here. A friend had gifted me a 250 gms packet when he had returned from the UK.” And he sipped and nodded. “Nicely made, though. Cheers!”

            “My Rohan,” and Charoen cuddled him. But realizing he had disturbed him, she slowly sat back in her chair.

            Rohan smiled. “But right now I have to visit The Ancient City, Charoen. I had been there once earlier and need to visit it again. Something tells me there is some clue there. I’ll be back by the evening, around seven, and as soon as I’m back, I’ll contact you.”

            “But you are quite weak. I was thinking if you could go there tomorrow.”

            “No, Charoen. I need to go today and clarify certain things.”

            She looked at him and nodded. She knew what he required. This man who warms my heart but still is obsessed with Fai. She buried her face on his chest. As if there’s no one else to dote on.

            “I think some of the answers lie in The Ancient City.” He touched her cheek.

*

Charoen  

You are a Great Creative Writing Instructor of Kingston International College! Worthy wielder of the pen at Random Thoughts! You will soon get all knowledge about many of my secrets from the place you are headed to. But will that come to pass?! Your mesmerizing poetic creations have transported me from my past to what I want now. And that is your love. And I know what will happen if I do not get what my heart and soul desires.

            I touch the yellow stone, and soon it begins to vibrate. Keeping it on the red piece of cloth with swine’s hair and cowrie shells made into a skull, I concentrate on the Ash Man. There he is. Sitting in yogic posture on a wasteland piled high. Above, under an overcast sky, vultures wheel around.

            His eyes are closed, his head in matted ashy curls; and his body smeared with ash. He turns his head towards the direction where the condo is situated in Prapadeng Road. And I, in front of my paraphernalia, eyes closed can see my minister gesturing me with a nod of his head: Come to where this mound is, where I am meditating. The potency of the witches is the most powerful now.

            I collect my ingredients from the floor, and transferring them into a small canvas rucksack, am on the balcony. In a trice I am at the outskirts of a closed and run down warehouse. Alighting behind the old building and crossing it, I face the edge of the shallow river. Ahead is the mound with the Ash Man sitting on its summit.

I sit on a rock to the edge of the sloping rock.

            “Rohan has left. For the Ancient City.”

            “And when is he leaving from there?”

            “He plans to be back by seven in the evening.”

            “That time will never come. When Rohan is around, your face betrays strange feelings, my disciple, and he will be able to read it like a book. In order to deceive him, you must appear the way they expect you to look. Greet your earthly lover with a welcoming expression in your eyes, your hands, and your words. You should look like an innocent blushing flower, but be like the petals of the black rose to hide its rosiness. The king is coming, and he’s got to be taken care of. You want to keep the vows of the Black Holy Words? Then assist me. Let me handle tonight’s preparations, because tonight will change every night and day for the rest of your life.”

            “Yes, my Lord. I projected a peaceful mood as per your instructions. I didn’t look troubled, thus neither did I arouse suspicion.”