A silent Night

There was no one around that night. Usually an ocassional stray would cross over, stopping to stare at new elements on the road or sniff at the peepal tree to mark his territory. This night was eerily quiet.

The wind blew softly, ruffled his hair. Just like she used to, when they first met in college. No more. Under the light of the lamp post, he could see her smile, that which had first drawn him to her. He had always told her that, and she'd laugh it away. The days they spent at the library, playing footsie under the tables, sharing tiffins at the cafteria. She would always bring along something which he liked. A malai kofta or a paneer sabji. Always. 

A car came by. It was a white Maruti 800, and surprisingly came down to a stop in front of him. For a second his heart raced. 2.00 am in the dead of the night, reminded him of horror stories. The window rolled down, and the driver asked him the route to shaam nagar. He pointed them towards the left. The driver mumbled a thanks and drove off, not wanting to prod on as to why a 20 year old sat by alone on the stone bench in the dead of the night.

Then she had stopped. First missing occassionally, and then completley. She no longer looked at him in the adoring way she used to, and their visits to the libraries together ceased. She wouldn't be home when he called her, and her mobile was always busy. There were no more messages and no more late night movies.

Manav stood up and gaze at his watch. It was time. He walked towards the rows of apartments and moved to the one marked nandi apartments. The watchman was fast asleep, and bitto already knew him too well to bark. He pressed the elevator call to the 4th floor. He stepped in and pressed 4. As the lift creaked its way up, he felt no remorse. 

The lift opened with a bing, and he moved down the corridors to the last door on the left. 14A. The one he had been to countless times. Spent memorable nights and lived in for almost half his college days. He pulled out his master key and opened the door with a soft click.

The room was airy. He had opened the windows to let in the air. He din't want Ayesha to be uncomfortable. The soft moonlight entered into the apartment, casting a silver shadow on the sofa. He walked to her bedroom and opened it softly. There she lay peacefully, finally at rest. Her body was still warm, and the blood had stopped flowing from the slit wound. He had done it peacefully and now awaited the confirmation. 

He walked out into the living room, and replaced the photo he had taken earlier. It was a photo of both of them in happier days, when they visited Ooty together. And alone.

He locked the front door. This last journey he dint want to take the elevator. He wanted to savour it. He walked all the way to the fifteenth floor. Slowly. Lighting up a Milds on the way. She hated that. She never liked his smoking and drinking, but it was all done. He walked on to the terrace. It was indeed abeautiful night. Worthy of the moment. As he stood on the railing, he thought of her once more, and left his feet. he fell through the air, falling floors.

....where they had first kissed.... where they had first fought ...

as he neared the end, he could see the white dress of Ayesha standing at the window of 14A. Her clothes stained in blood. She was standing, holding on to the curtain weakened by the wound. But she was alive, her eyes wide in fear and shock as she saw him, falling by...

It was too late for Manav, Her name echoed upon the walls as he shrieked. But it was done. The cold pavement welcomed him. He felt the warm blood. But it was his blood, and it was the end.