Literature

The mystery Man!

Those nights were sinfully cold and windy, when I sat there on the stone bench picturing the arrival of my mystery man. My mystery man who had made a slave out of the blowing wind. Around him, the wind, took its submissive being, and followed along his orders with a sense of urgency and fear. I imagined my man, his face- pale and wrinkled, yet helplessly charming, emerging from a distance smoking a thick puff of smoke around him . The wind, his partner in crime, promptly carried the pungent odour away from him in a matter of seconds and brought them  to me declaring his arrival. He looks several years younger than his age, thanks to his lean frame and impeccable taste in stacking the wardrobe with the right clothes. The aura around him was devastatingly unreal and he kept me on the edge every single time we met .This man, who I knew nothing about was effortlessly driving me insane and intrigued, inch by inch. I watched the kids around me play with their battered yet colored balls of red, white and blue.The honking and beeps of vehicles at a distance reached my ears as subtle tunes of a soft, mystical symphony.

Several nights had passed now, where me and him, would just walk along dusty empty walkways and argue on our takes on the world’s most pointless matters. Every night after on our return, we promise to never take another road together again. But, he would just turn up every next day as if this had become one of his habits. And I waited here day after day, as if this was my only reason for living. I wish I could romanticize the whole situation some more with descriptions of birds and tress and flowers which didnt exist to picture things perfect. But even in the obvious absence of any natural or unnatural hyperbole, the night couldn’t have been any less beautiful. The stone seats in the park I sat on, absorbed every bit of degree celcius’s it could  from me, in return spreading its chill unevenly throughout the length of my body. In a few minutes I had my legs curled up under my skirt and my hands had found a safe place in the deep pockets of my sweatshirt. I didn’t cover my face, I let the wind have its way, blowing past my hair,and slowly, sabotaging my minutes of effort to make them line the contours of my face exactly the way I wanted him to see it. My eyelids hugged each other for a split second or a little longer, but before I knew it, I was falling slowly, but steadily into the surreal world which worked in strange ways. My wind, mischievously crawled into my dreams and continued to blow in there as well.

“He is here!”, announced the wind forcing a stint of his manly odour into my nose as if to bring me back to reality.

I was grinding my teeth tightly now, no more able to bypass the intensity of the moment. The wind – flowing past me in an urgency to welcome its master, was touching and teasing me in more ways than one. This man, whose very thought triggers my wildest fantasy, whose presence makes me aware of the blood gushing through my veins was finally here. I do not know if it was the night or the wind or just the thought of his usual being, I was strangely aroused, so much that I gulped down my growing urge to run back to my house, away from his haunt. I felt a small tap on my shoulder. My shoulder almost entirely covered by the grey pullover and the black tee inside it. But I am certain that I felt a tip of his index finger touch the thin lining of the exposed skin in the valley down my neck towards my arms.I stood up and smiled at his empty face trying to pacify my heart beat which had began to rise to a palpable rhythm.

He didn’t smile back at me.

Or maybe he did.

It had always been difficult to read his face. In the years, he had mastered the art of deception pretty well. He concealed his deepest desires and fears locked up in some remote chamber of his heart, away from my  probing eyes. I knew that it was ages before he would actually let me into his lonely red island. The wind still blowing, caressing me and him together now, pulling the ends of my hair to catch upto his bearded face. He didn’t push them away, the strands of my messy hair now struggling its way to reach for his neck and then sliding their way higher up.

“My wind! Playing naughty games with me again, are you?”, I think.

My eyes were stuck on him – wandering deep into his thoughts , trying to make sense of this man who always made me a restless, impatient and curious woman.  He joined my gaze for a few seconds, reading my apparent turmoil before he convineantly looked back to the road ahead of us. I resisted my urge to cup his face in my hands to not let him escape my gaze anymore.

“Shall we go for a walk?”, he said finally standing up and shaking off our extremely dangerous and potentially risky eye contact.

I nodded.

“This way”, he pointed. “Against the blowing wind”, he added.

“He walks not by you, but against you! And yet, you seem to be in favour of his evil charm, my wind?”, I think.

I suppressed a smile inside to look at my mystery man – ever the unflinching rebel. His messy hair, wanton nature and gentle words. He was a strange strange combination, of morning sunshine and midnight black. It was his very native rebellious being, that draws me to it fiercly day by day. Every part of his being, intrigued me, excited me, fascinated me, aroused me furthur. He was so much like my wind. Gentle, yet brutal. Powerful yet weak. Humble yet defiant. I didn’t make an effort to hide my desires from him.While I was making these mental notes, his eyes came wandering back to mine.

Cautious.

Silent.

Helpless.

We start to walk. We took short measured steps forward through the pebbled pathway. My wind, flowing gently against me in caution, as if trying to stop me, warn me . I see him light his cigar again. I pull it out of his mouth and throw it down in the trash. He is angry now, he grabs the top my arm in a quick movement, then lets me go before turning back to walk again.But he did not light another one. I smile. I steal his hand and wrap it with mine to ease his temper. The kids in the park were throwing tiny smiles at us. Even the uncles hurrying on their way resolute in burning every bit of extra calourie they didnt need, shot mischievous glances at us.

” What must they be thinking? Do they take us for lovers? “

What do they see when they look at him, the uncles and the kids ?

What do I see when I look at him?

I see PAIN. Nothing but pain in his eyes and the void in his heart .

While my mind cruised along the horizons of possibilities of facts and figments around him, I felt his hands shake my shoulders again.My wind had started to follow us back , now blowing unevenly- smooth and hoarse, over and over. I was cold now, and hot, and my muscles started to tense. I feared the tips of my fairly concealed assets starting to peak out to give him a show of my wandering mind. I pulled the sweatshirt closer to me, still determined to walk forward against my wind and its wrath today.

With him, I was shades of multiple beings. I had alters, the shy one, the shameless one, the needy one and the childish one. As if in realization, he started speaking to me. My brain refused to keep records of his blunt revelations. He didn’t need a companion. He wanted to be the lonely man in the maddening crowd. He just didn’t need me. But I knew I was determined to give him everything he didn’t want. I didn’t dream of an exquisite wedding or of having two notorious masterminds to inherit his name. In my dreams there were no mansions or churches. There were roads, long and narrow and unpredictable. All I ever wanted was to walk with you. And to lay awake in the nights , not naked yet spent , of our intense undying conversations. My wind was growing hoarse and wild now, angry that I ignored its insistent premonitions. My mystery man, for once, held me close to him tight and wrapped his hands around me before my wind altered into his thirsty cousin-the storm.

Published by Anju Dinesh

A writer is how I would love to have myself defined as. Who makes a lot of typos though. Thank God for all these apps that has come to my rescue. Probably not a very good one or successful one at that yet. But someone who did make an effort. Although I finish most of my articles in a haste every single time. And constantly worries if the piece is worth it or not.. Hasn't grown out of the cocoon yet. Hopes to one day write something for myself and not worry of being judged. Because invariably I write about things that makes it easy for the readers to judge to me. Yes I am hopelessly prejudiced about my writing and choice of topics. Goes low on self esteem more than often although I vaguely know that there is something about my writing that can probably strike a chord someday only if I tried a lot harder. Never works too hard. Never works too less. That Never been part of my system. Which means I always play the safe game.I hope to someday break out to that realm of fictitious world where my imagination will stay raw and free, my flow of words be effortless and there would be nothing around me that can stop me or bind me there. Oh Yes! I want to get there.

17 thoughts on “The mystery Man!”

  1. Sooraj Shashikumar says:

    Nyc work… You have brought in the most inner feelings and emotions of the mind in a beautiful manner…. Keep up the good work… 🙂

    1. Anju Dinesh says:

      Hey Chetan, Thank you so much. Good to get lost in thoughts I bet. Do that more often! 😉

  2. Reshika shyam says:

    Nice work Anju.. The way of expression superb..

    1. Anju Dinesh says:

      *Giggling* Thanks Reshika. I’m flattered.
      PS: I miss you guys here! 🙁

  3. Haritha Bc says:

    Hey Anju,your attempt to be ‘little more artistic’ turned out to be a joyful read,I must say….l liked the way you used the wind,’the partner in crime’,to convey the girl’s feelings <3 …although the practical me kept on thinking ,why does she want to be with someone she knows barely anything about…but that's just my thought 🙂
    Keep writing… Waiting for more 🙂

    1. Anju Dinesh says:

      Hello Haritha, I have been missing your comments for a while now. I am glad I dragged you back here.The practical you can keep on thinking, and the “insane” me would keep coming up with stupid pieces like these . 😛 Well, technically, the idea was that she is NOT IN LOVE. It was one of those casual, intense, destructive “CONNECTION” she felt for the protagonist. And thank you so much for encouraging me all the time. Loads of love. THANKS!

  4. anikrishna k says:

    That time is not too far, when my comments will be lost in a million other comments!!!;-)
    At times I felt it was not the stone bench, u were actually STONED….(HAHAHA)

    1. Anju Dinesh says:

      hey, Rahul chettan,
      Erm! Thank you ? Most definitely I wasn’t “stoned” (YET). Which also gets me thinking, Thanks for the idea anyway. (BUHAHA)
      The opening line humbles me but I would still like that someday. And thank you so so much.. Really.

  5. Shamil Gafoor says:

    Nicely crafted. Yes, I do agree bringing wind into the picture is a great a idea. What gripped me, is the feeling to know more about the mystery man. I was so sad at the end. But when I thought of it, I realize the death to which I got into the character r of your writing. Great writing anju!!

    1. Anju Dinesh says:

      All thanks to the idea of bringing “my wind” into picture! 😀
      And I wish I had known more about my mystery man myself as well, you see, I am quite sad myself. The whole point is, we know nothing about him yet., But fact that you feel exactly the way I do, excites me. The purpose has been served. I am elated. 😀

  6. Vishnu Vijayan says:

    In complete awe. I could see a different side of u in ur attempt at being more artistic. Really liked the way u took forward the story using your partner in crime to express the feelings. At times, I thought the wind was more lively than the man. And I thought,at the end of story,mystery man may turn out to be a part of the girl’s imagination.
    Really enjoyed it. Waiting for more.☺☺

  7. Anju Dinesh says:

    Hey Vishnu, now this comment makes me blush. Thank you so much, really!!. Mystery man is no imagination, there’s this man I know,way too intense, who has apparently inspired my subconscious to develop a story as this. I’m delighted to know that you liked it. And yeah I’m writing more. 😀

  8. Subhashini Natarajan says:

    “He walks not by you, but against you!
    And yet you seen to b in favour of his evil charm, my wind?”

    Fell in love with these lines…. <3 Amazing work! Well written 🙂 keep up the good work anju…

  9. Subhashini Natarajan says:

    “He walks not by you, but against you!
    And yet you seem to b in favour of his evil charm, my wind?”

    Fell in love with these lines…. <3 Amazing work! Well written 🙂 keep up the good work anju…

    1. Anju Dinesh says:

      I’m smiling one of my broadest smiles right now. Thank you so much for making me feel so good about my work. 🙂 🙂
      **can’t stop giggling! **evil charm!!

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