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                         THE ENDGAME AND THE WHISPERING MYSTERY

                                     (1)

           It was another Sunday, a dull opaque Sunday that was, he had a scary feeling. And she has moved away, many miles beyond, took a road that never looked back. It was the sixth consecutive day, she was silent, he tried a few times, and his call remained unanswered.

  He woke up early. As usual the morning was bleak and he had a feeling it was dishonest. There were no clouds. Yet it rained, he tossed in the bed. It was a solo effort.  Waves of anguish and tumultuous feelings overpowered him. He thought everything tender in him was squished. It rained, the droplets soaked his forehead and he gingerly looked for the inbox in his mails. She had not written him for a fortnight. The last mail was on another Sunday. It reeked of sluggish insolence.  For last few months he found her undemonstrative about what she did. He had an eerie feeling all through. Unlike earlier days of their relationship she was not vocal and conveniently she forgot many things that they talked about and cherished in the past and now.

        He knew her a year and half back. He came to the city for printing of few pamphlets and posters espousing the common cause of the group .Then he had climbed the ladder of the group and was considered an intellectual activist. He enjoyed the attention of the simple men and women around him. He was given a separate room, allowed use of cell phone and computer and for him special arrangements were made for internet connection.  Many a times he wondered how could they afford such comfort! The men and women and children were fretful of their future. The hills, rivulets and the green around the place had an aura which filled his senses with a wild fervour. The inhabitants were archaic in their thought, they never rationalized their passions and he was aware it never mattered to them if they did not have enough rations for tomorrow. They lived there today and wished to linger it till tomorrow. He stayed in a cheap hotel near the station. It was untidy and had a meaty smell. He thought to run away and take the next train to his place. Yet he knew he had a mission, no matter it was trivial and inconsequential.  The first night was awful, everywhere he wanted to search foul smelling dead rat. The mattress glued to his back. It was damp and sticky. He opened the roadside window. From the window beside a shady tree he found a couple arguing, in the dim light of the lamp post he saw a plump woman talking to a thin middle aged man. They were arguing over something.  After wards they were joined by a few women and men. He laughed within; they were reaching a bargain, the pimp and the whore!

He came back to the bed. Tossed there and closed his eyes.  Somewhere in the vicinity the church bell rang and it proclaimed it was mid night. Something flashed and it resembled a silver fish, the sparkling glitter came from within. He felt he was uninitiated to many things pleasant and a sultry scratching took him away to a queer disposition. He lay down on the bed and despite the cool breeze from the window and the ceiling fan at its optimum speed, he sweated. Somewhere   within him was  fire. He was rattled and took bath.

He could only sleep at wee hours. He thought about the women in his life, his first pimple, the first kiss and the woman who exhorted him to hold her feigning ,she was limping of a bad fall.

Next morning he went to the press, he was led along a dark alley, the room was dimly lit, a small stool and a dirty table, a chair with both the arms broken, zinc plates and lead letters were all  scattered over the room. A few dirty cups, an ashtray and steel glasses with brown stains and maze of cobwebs were all around the room. There sat a thin featureless woman, five feet high, expression less eyes and dressed shabbily. She was about ten years younger than him, he thought at least. But when she smiled her face lit up with sparks. It almost hid her flat blunt nose; she was soft spoken, stubborn in her assertions. He had a weird wish and saw her flat buttocks, awkward  waist. She had flat chest, very thin, about forty kilograms, he thought.

They discussed the design of the pamphlet and he paid her some money as advance. It was decided the materials would be delivered at the hotel next week end. She was from a poor family, married to a business man when she was eighteen. He left    her for another woman. She had an autistic son. She is working there for a meagre salary of Rs.5000/- a month. The woman shook hands with him when he left the press. Her hand was warm, without a lump of flesh. She held his hand for almost a minute; he felt awkward, but he liked it too much. They exchanged their cell phone numbers. When he left she smiled and it appeared odd to him.