Pain - Ultimate

“ This romeo is bleeding
But you can't see his blood
It's nothing but some feelings
That this old dog kicked up
It's been raining since you left me
Now I'm drowning in the flood
You see I've always been a fighter
But without you I give up "


He was getting nervous. Very nervous.

Dressed in his traditional wedding attire, he sat trembling on one side of the flower laden bed. The bride was in red, colourful ‘mehendi’ garnishing her soft hands and head hiding quietly inside the head scarf carefully grafted out of her red sari. He could steal a few glances at her nubile body, and it clearly appeared as though she allowed him those minor thefts. There was still some distance between the two, and the inevitable union of man and woman would bridge that sooner than later.

He was doing well for himself, for the most part at least. He kept pace with the unbearable rat race, and yes, he knew that he was also en route to becoming a rat. His investments were made in the right places, and his resume was on the desks of the biggest companies across the globe. Some responded with statements like “You’re profile is very good, but unfortunately we don’t have a vacancy for the kind of position that will suit you best.” But he did not stop running, nor did he wish to. He was planning to finish the race, with best intentions of winning.

But all that did not stop him from feeling nervous about the moment. Growing up, he had heard colloquial jokes, anecdotes and legacies about the ‘first night.’ Tonight it seemed that he had crossed the proverbial bridge, and was on the other side of the river. Yet, despite all that, something inside of him had died even before he reached this point.

Sometime during his years in the University of Life, he fell in love, or so he thought. His love for the maiden didn’t elude him for as long as his memory served him right. In other words, he was thinking all along about his childhood sweetheart while accepting gifts, flowers and envelopes with one rupee coins on the outside and crispy notes inside.

The woman in red took a miniscule step towards him. He also noticed that she was showing him more of her naked skin, as well as her cleavage. Did she expect him to move closer to her, hold her hand, kiss her softly on her cheeks and stroke her hair? Myriad thoughts clogged his head, and he decided it was best to stay put. He didn’t move an inch.

“You’re happy, aren’t you?”

That caught him unawares. It seemed difficult for him to travel metaphysically through two different worlds. He wasn’t thinking of the real answer to her question. He thought of how he could quell her doubts without giving a good answer to her question. Happiness, after all, is a very vague and subjective term.

He smiled. A smile would always work as the best rhetoric in moments like this. He would be happy to talk to her about his life in general, his life outside this bed. On the up side, he did not feel too uncomfortable with the thought of holding her hand. But surely, he did not want to get naked, or see her naked, or make love to her.

She moved out of the bed, and walked around it, coming closer to him. She took steps that could be called feminine, with the sound of her anklets causing mounting tension in the room. He noticed that she had not made any efforts to get her sari back in position; in fact he could easily see a lot of her skin as she walked towards him. Wearing a mischievous smile on her face, she calmly came and sat beside him and held his hand. She moved her body closer to his, and he could feel her breasts nudge his firm chest.

“Bolo mujhe, tum khush ho na”

“Yes, of course I am.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and moved her neck closer to his lips. He wanted to bite her on her neck, but that was purely a sexually enticing moment for him. The nervousness had not escaped his body, and his non perusal on matters of sex didn’t allow him to make the move she wanted him to make. She waited for a minute or two, but his senility made her try a little harder. No Indian woman fancies making the first move, but she wanted to free herself from the shackles of an unwanted virginity. She had waited for the right man, the right moment. She took his hand and placed it on her soft breasts, helping him caress them gently. He withdrew, obnoxiously.

She started to unbutton her blouse slowly, but he placed his hand firmly on hers, and said “It’s getting late, I think we should sleep.”

She felt a stab right through her heart. She smiled, but felt a tear in the corner of her eye. She had heard that he was a fun loving, energetic person-who had lived his life along the lines of Kurt Cobain’s “Its better to burn out than fade away.”

“ Now I can't sing a love song
Like the way it's meant to be
Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore
But baby, that's just me "

[The references in this piece are from Always-Bon Jovi]