EXECUTIONER’S LOVE

The sky was tar-black, and looked vengeful. The ominous clouds shrieked followed by a loud thunder. At first it was pilter-patter; the next moment the rain came plummeting down. Any crevice and gap were instantaneously turned into puddles of water. Heavy rainfall had enveloped the picturesque hill valley, making visibility poor. An innocent evening sky had turned into a fearful and scary night like. Although rains were an internal part of Sampa Valley, as vegetation was the main occupation of the natives. The locals viewed the rain as a double-sided sword as Sampa had witnessed its share of floods. The valley had last seen its fury when a deluge continued for five days, which destroyed most of the vegetation, and the valley got detached from the civilization leaving the natives in a precarious condition and uncertainty prevailed.

Kundan dressed in a raincoat was walking on a deserted road and had a baseball cap pulled close to his face. His only companions were the oak tress either side of the road. He took a left turn and entered the main market in-front of him was the Khan’s meat shop adjacent to it was Sharma’s provisional store, the biggest shop of the market. He walked past the mobile repair shop and various smaller and bigger vegetable shops and other clothing stores. The market was closed as people had vanished into the security of their home anticipating the heavy downpour. Kundan walked on oblivious to the elements around him as if he knew where he was heading. He left the market behind and once again oak trees become his sole companion sheltering him from the lashing. At the far end of road he looked at the empty bus stop he knew that the last bus had gone few hours ahead of schedule not to get stuck of any water logging and landslides. A dim light flickered at the far end of the national highway. He crossed the road and stopped at the entrance of the local bar named, The Bar; B of the bar was flickering. He took out his cap revealing a healthy growth of mane, and a week’s stubble, which he kept to hide a scar under his lower lip a souvenir from the past. The bar was dimly lit like any bar found in the country side. He looked at the empty table at the far end of the bar a semblance of smile originated on his lips as he saw his customary seat reserved for him like every day. Kundan looked at the counter Shah ji, the owner of the bar, a stout man in his fifties smiled and ushered him to his table. Kundan took off his overcoat revealing a crumbled oversize shirt. Kundan seated himself, Shah ji asked “regular?”

Kundan approved with a nod. He looked at the patrons; it’s a world onto itself. Once inside the patrons tried forgetting their worldly problems by immersing themselves in liquor. A waiter brought a peg of rum which was little larger than the regular. Kundan looked at the glass; Rum is made from sugarcane’s by-product molasses, by process of fermentation and distillation. The distillate liquid is kept and aged in oak barrels, although he never went to school but as a lover of rum he had learned its preparation by heart. Kundan being an avid drinker knew rum should be taken in small gulps and savored in mouth to heighten the effect, but today was no such day and he took a large gulp.

He had come to a decision of leaving Sampa conveying that to Devyani was going to be altogether another matter. Devyani who had six months ago taken him as a tenant in her house no question asked, and on top of that she never once raised any issue for the delay in rent. He for his part gave her whatever he earned through his odd jobs. This was the reason of him getting drunk tonight. Kundan finished his glass in the second gulp and gestured for a refill.

Kundan thoughts took him to the day when he first arrived at the door step of this unsuspecting lady who after a few trivial questions allowed him entry into her residence. Kundan never admitted to Devyani that, he had watched over her house for full two days, and after making sure that everything was alright he admitted in-front of her.

The sudden commotion broke Kundan’s trance and jerked him back to reality. He followed the direction of sound and noticed two men sitting at a table, strangers. The bigger bald guy who was built like a mountain was scolding his smaller long haired partner. The long haired fellow was trying to placate the bald man. Kundan and his eyes met. The bald guy suspected something amiss broke his line mid-sentence, and gave a hard look to Kundan which made his nostrils flare up resulting in making his ugly face uglier. Kundan matched the stare with a mean gaze of his own. They kept staring the incessant stare, and then suddenly as an afterthought Kundan averted his eyes. He stared at his glass with a smirk on his lips, rum having its effect. And cautioned; this is neither the time nor the place. Kundan trained his thoughts back to his current predicament which was Devyani.

The bar had thinned substantially. Kundan was at his fifth glass. His mind was in turmoil as he hadn’t arrived at an apt approach of putting across to Devyani. Maybe the reason was that he cared for her, and felt guilty for ditching her when she hadn’t done anything to deserve this or maybe he truly loved her. Kundan quickly dispelled these thoughts, how can he who has been on the run from police all his life suddenly think about settling down. He quickly signaled for a refill and went into his mental upheaval; in a bid not to get caught he keeps changing names. Unexpectedly he heard a person sitting in-front of him; it was Shah ji the owner. Their eyes met, Shah ji said “come tomorrow and we will talk?” with an affectionate smile.

Kundan with blood red eyes kept starring at Shah ji face. He had a plethora of queries of which he wanted answer with that intention whenever he opened his mouth only air passed through. Kundan kept looking at Shah ji, no name could be given to the relationship as it was an illegitimate as families refrained their women and children from interacting with them. Kundan and Devyani for their part had done nothing to dismiss those rumours and kept living their life, like husband and wife. A faint smile emanated from Shah ji lips and said, “why don’t you go home”.

Kundan shook his head as if in disbelief to Shah ji’s advice and the ordeal going on in his head and replied, “Home!”

Shah ji signaled a waiter “safely take him to his place,” he said.

Shah ji wrote the bill on a piece of paper and shoved it in Kundan’s shirt pocket. The waiter carefully brought Kundan to his feet placed on his raincoat and cap and led him through the door. The rain had subsided but the ominous cloudless sky augured for more torrential rain. The smell the wet mud filled Kundan’s nose and he walked towards home with a lingering thought, may be its time to come clean and tell her that he is a contact killer, a knowing smile originated on his face.