This particular piece is based on one of my dreams which happened some time back. Though I had decided to make into a story, I felt it was best written as it had occured to me.So, here it is - absolutely unedited and like most of my dreams, very difficult to make sense of. Please forgive me if you don't see any sense in this - all I have done is to reproduce consciously what was shown by my subconscious.
The pitter-patter of the raindrops on the coffeeshop window provided an engaging companionship to the random visuals that floated through her consciousness as she sat there, looking at her soon-to-be-ex husband, sitting at a hand's distance from her.As time passed, she grew increasingly conscious of his gaze, exploring her body and going on to reach the depths of her wary soul. Though she tried not to make too much out of it, she was increasingly getting frustrated that somebody whom she was about to clinically detach from her life, her being in a matter of few hours, could exercise so much raw power over her.The very thought of feeling exposed like a naked animal out in the chilly rain made her uncomfortable. Though she tried her best to deny it, the fact remained that irrespective of the actual reasons for their imminent divorce, she still unwittingly laid much of the blame on her own doorstep.
Trying hard (and failing) to defend herself against the negative thought patterns that seemed deeply lodged in her mind like a bullet in a soldier's thigh, she let her mind fly back to the supposedly happy days when out of his magnetic attraction and womanising ways, she knew only about the former. Those were the days when they made love like cellists in an orchestra - in sync, lilting and almost always ending in a grand crescendo. But then the symphony went awry when she discovered that she was just one of his many 'voyages' - as he liked to call them, journeys of discovery to a new land every time. What especially seared her soul was that he did not seem to have the slightest regret and claimed that each of his 'voyages' was equally dear to him, though she always held a special place and need not worry herself. This seemingly unashamed justification of his was what prompted her to file for seperation. Despite his claims of her having a special place in his life, he seemed to be least bothered when presented with the divorce papers. That's when she was convinced that she had made the right decision. But deep down, in a queer way, she held herself largely responsible for not being able to prevent him from doing what he eventually did.
Putting down the by now cold coffee, she looked at him with a quizzing expression. "Lets go home...our home", he said. Though unwilling to enter those unfortunate premises once again, she found herself getting up and moving out, towards the car. Though her mind cried out loud, her body refused to listen, still under his magnetic spell, after all that had happened.As she stepped inside the house and heard him close the door behind him, she had a foreboding of what was going to happen. But even then, she was caught unawares when he laid his hands around her and pulled her to him, planting his lips on the nape of her neck, as he always liked to start off with. In one graceful motion, his hands were now navigating her body with the smoothness of a confident sailor, though at times, she could still feel the tremors of guilt running through his body. His movements were akin to a cellist who had just broke an instrument and was extra-cautious while playing a new one, the caution fuelled on further by the guilt.
As the moments passed, though, the tremors abated and he was back to his old self - the man that she loved and hated the most at the same time, who played with her body and soul with the smug expertise of someone who knew, and was obviously proud of what he was doing. Deep within, she knew that she had to resist him or else she would be his slave for life. She tried to retrieve herself from his embrace but her body seemed to have turned deader than a mannequin, refusing to entertain any instructions from her mind.
" Love you, dear...", he said in that same deep, abrupt voice of his and that seemed to break something inside her in a manner she had never known before. Images of him on his 'voyages', of naked bodies with molten faces mocking her, him on a bed, slowly morphing from a human form into a ghost crowded her inner vision. Thrusting herself away from him with a strength she never knew she had, she walked away, shaking with rage, leaving her impotent, submissive past in her wake.
