Friends Story – The HouseFly
Photo credit: dorne from morguefile.com
(Note:- Please be patient as you read the story. Patience is a virtue wait and see. It is lengthy but I hope your wait will be worth it.)
The intolerable heat slaughtered my dreams. I woke up with sweating like a turkey on Christmas Eve. With great difficulty I removed my t-shirt clinging to my body. How I hated my flabby self. Gone were the days when I had chiseled body, when I used to spend hours in gym. Fanning myself with the smelling t-shirt I looked towards the open window. They were wide open but the fact that no breeze was blowing, did not help.
Continuing the fanning I sat up on the bed. Adjusting my eyes to the darkness I decided to light a cigarette. Just as I was reaching for my pack of cigs. I heard that sound again. I remembered hearing this sound although very vaguely in my sleep. From where the hell is this sound coming, I muttered to myself. I got up and then tottering I started looking for the switchboard. Aimlessly groping everything on the wall I finally found some switches. The sound of randomly switching of switches was followed by the coming to life of a low power bulb spreading a sheet of yellow all over the room. My eyes started to hurt perhaps due to the sudden removal of darkness. Once again the sound came and as I looked up……….
I reached here just as the morning Sun was heating up. It was my best friend’s marriage and I was here mostly because I wanted a much needed break. Taking place at his ancestral home this was more of a suburb . Now this was a mansion we are talking about and it was like one of those that we usually see in big budget movies except for all those shine and glitz. Time had taken its toll on the body but the beauty still prevailed. Apart from that there was a garden that seemed to be never ending. But where it eventually ended were a series of rooms which were once supposed to be servant quarters. That was when the zamindars ruled. Now neither the zamindars remained nor their servants. I was supposed to be staying in one of these rooms. Upon my arrival, Anurag started giving me a tour. After an inside out of the house we finally reached here.
“Bro, this is the only room available as per your choice. I have got it cleaned up and ready.” Anurag said.
“Can I smoke here without any problems?” I enquired.
“Without a doubt. You have a separate toilet . The only problem is the fan is not working. I could not get any electrician today. Deal with it today and I promise the first thing I will do tomorrow morning is call someone and get this fixed.” Anurag looked ashamed.
“Why not, I will manage.” I tried to smile but the heat cracked it up.
“Just open up the windows at night. If you want anything just call me up. No one’s going to disturb you here. You go change and freshen up,” Anurag said as he was leaving. I lit up a cigarette.
…………… I saw a fly. The flight of the fly was creating this sound. It is strange I hardly remember hearing this before. Perhaps the glamour of city lights and sounds conceals these little delights of nature. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and sat down as a sigh of relief escaped from my mouth. It was going to be hard to get some sleep. I brought a cigarette and a burning matchstick in contact and after a good whiff I looked at the fly again. The fly perhaps startled by the new found ‘enlightenment’, in a trance like state, went straight towards the light and collided. The fly fell down and suddenly amidst a gust of smoke I traveled to my past.
In school we were an infamous trio. Abdul was a major reason for this and it was often his activities that caused trouble for us. Getting punished by a teacher and later egging that teacher’s house and again getting punished for it was his regular entertainment. Although keen on calling his parent’s at an early stage the teacher’s finally gave up after many futile efforts when they realized calling his parent’s would only harass them. Often he annoyed us so much we would not talk to him for days but his nature prevented our anger to grow.
This Abdul although weak in studies was great in football. Being the best player 3 years in a row was no easy feat to achieve. Also he was a speed freak . Bikes was his passion and speed was , as they say, his drug. We often used to tell him to drive slow but he used to say ” if I die I will die while speeding”.
After we got our college degrees we decided to go on a trip. Once we reached there we hired two bikes. One for Abdul and one for us to share. Now we were staying in one of those hotels which stays open 24/7. So as the night became younger Abdul suggested we go on a drive. Hesitant at first we finally gave in to Abdul’s ‘cry-baby’ expression. But that was the biggest mistake we ever made. The highway was at a stone’s throw from where we were staying. Before we could know anything we were cruising at the wrong side of the highway, of course Abdul far away from us. Somehow I sped up and I was telling him not to speed. Abdul turned and I could see a mix of excitement, freedom and innocence as he said “Highway to Hell”. None of us had noticed a truck heading our way. As soon as Abdul looked in front it seemed he was blinded by the truck headlights. In a trance like state he went straight towards the light and collided. With a screech from behind me I somehow crashed my bike at the side of the road.
The burning filter’s heat brought me back to the present. Hurriedly I threw away the butt. Before a few tears could roll down I took out my handkerchief. It feels like a lifetime ago but I still remember it like it was yesterday though. As we pouring dirt on the grave we decided never to talk about this again. We never did, but we did not allow that space to fill up. Abdul’s parents never kept any contact with us after the funeral rites.
Suddenly after so many years I missed him so much. Abdul said that he would do this and that in our weddings and if we would not invite him then he would barge in. I looked up hearing the buzzing sound. The fly was flying once again and after flying here and there it started going round and round around the light. I smiled and took out a cigarette. With the sound of striking of match something else kept knocking in my head.
Anurag was the rockstar of our group.We always wanted to lead his life. Good looks, his dad had a fortune which was indirectly his, was great in studies and topped in class effortlessly. There was another thing he could do effortlessly and that was getting girls. Somehow girls also wanted to be with him. I mean we used to be with him but we were looked upon as if we were the credits of a movie. Everyone saw us but no one was interested. On the other hand Anurag not only got girls but also treated them like his toys. He would break a heart in a jiffy and then in a second would be romancing another. We used to tell him don’t go around breaking hearts but he could not care less.
But things took a strange turn after Abdul died. After our grad. results we went different ways. At first we used to keep contact but soon we got caught up in our lives and our friendship became obsolete. On the day my 1st year’s exams ended I got a phone call from Anurag’s mom. I somehow stuffed some essentials in my bag and left for our hometown. On reaching I took a cab straight to Anurag’s home. There I learned that Anurag had a nervous breakdown and he is in a state of frenzy. He has given up eating , drinking and has even tried to kill himself.
I went in the room where he was kept chained . The rockstar had never seemed so helpless. I tried to talk to him but it seemed he did not recognize me. After many futile tries I gave up. After inquiring about him we learned that he fell in love with a girl where he was studying. Anurag somehow sincerely loved this girl and his world moved round and round around her. The girl however literally treated him like a dog. She made him stand and sit as per her wish . First she used him for his money and kicked him directly to rock bottom. Anurag was later admitted to a rehab center where he was treated for four years.
When he was finally released he was doing better but he was not completely cured. He used to often get a trauma. But he was good in studies so he finally got a job. Problem arised when they decided to get him married. No one was ready to give their daughter because they knew his past. Eventually his parents got an illiterate girl from some village and decided to get him married. This was one of those girls toward whom Anurag would not even look . But fate had planned some irony for him. He had no other choice but to get married.
I rubbed the cigarette on the ashtray. Anurag later told me, ‘after Abdul’s death he was shattered. Then with our stay in different cities there was no one to emotionally support him. He never turned towards his parents for anything other than money. He somehow found solace in this girl but she made him feel what he must have made others feel like’. I had almost forgot about the fly. I looked up to see that the fly was now sitting on the bulb. After a few passing seconds the fly tried to move away but somehow got stuck to the bulb and before it could realize anything it was fried to death. This incident perhaps showed me the future.
I used to hit the gym from the time when I was 15. Working out for a perfect body was like an addiction and I cared more about it than my studies. Getting in the swimming pool or waving my jersey after scoring a goal I never let go a chance of showing my bod. But all of this changed one day when I was introduced to cigarette. Slowly nut surely I got addicted to it. I left gym because of lack in stamina .
Slowly slowly all the pecs and abs vanished but cigarette started becoming a regular necessity. My friend pleaded me to leave it but I said I cannot live without it. Once we left our hometown in pursuit of higher studies there was no stopping me. Smoke came out of me like a house on fire. I made it a answer to all my problems. Problems in house, death of Abdul, Anurag’s rehab everything saw me trying to suppress my worries with a fag. But today I realizes how dangerous it was for me.
Just like the fly even I would get burnt and will die with charcoal lungs. I threw the burning cigarette in my hand and then with all my might I squashed it with my feet. The mere thought of dead has suddenly got me all tensed. This somehow never happened before even after knowing the risks. With a heavy heart and mind I switched off the light and went to bed in order to get some sleep. But somehow I could not and then I realised something. A glowing matchstick lighted up the dark room…….
[Warning: None of the characters in the story support their actions. Smoking , Speeding of bikes and being a playboy may eventually harm you. It kills]
Dedicated to: @TheRealAbdul: Hopes to own an oil well one day, @lioopAnurag: Trying his luck at c-grade horror movies(as a ghost).
__END__
