One lonely night in a girl’s life where something totally unexpected happens.
Tonight, there were no inspirations that tempted me to pursue the creativity in my blood, not a single thing that registered my desire. I was feeling deprived, especially on the way back to my bunker of ingenuity I sought stray motivations, hanging out of the thresholds of the modest objectification in the name of public transports on a busy evening, as a consolation for a frustrating day. I searched for powerful expressions on the faces of the pedestrian walkers, and the shopkeepers, whose place of worship crossed my route, but nothing was turning out to be spiritual. All my poetics genes had, as if, subsided and collapsed into nothingness, after having one hell of a shitty day full of boredom, I just needed to let out and be occupied and engulfed by my favorite pastime, I needed at least an hour of random and stray thoughts to let my rhymes ejaculate but there was not one thing that I could be inspired by, from menstrual issues, to fighting parents, to getting over a bad break up and losing my smartphone to this accident, it was all a bloody mess. It felt imperative that I escape this prison of frustrating occupancy which appeared like an illegitimate reservation of my time, claustrophobic and also unwanted. It had been a tough day and the thought of dead bodies made me sick to my stomach and I deemed them avoidable but nothing seemed to strike my view.
I cared for the worn out bus slugging its hydraulics amongst luxury brand vehicles on a narrow road, and even more for its driver who was pretty thrift with the accelerator. May they rest in peace, the unfortunate victims of a rash right turn gone wrong at the hands of a probably drunk and/or careless bus driver, I wished as I pitied that the fool of a bus driver that had barged through the window, over the steering wheel as he misjudged the turn and hit the side walk crushing an old couple walking their vegetables back home. It was a bloody mess with cucumbers and cauliflowers spread all over it, three bodies on the outside, more casualties inside the bus as well. And, amidst all the chaos there was a little Alsatian, that belonged to the late beloved couple who probably were enjoying the happiest days of their lives, barking its throat out on the helpful audience, which caught my eye. It bothered the ones in the crowd who did not volunteer but instead chose to be mere spectators and then stopped yelling and started to cry in soft whimpers and moans when the ambulance arrived. As I was riding past the scene I saw a deserted “Hero” as his name tag read, his family was quite possibly declared dead on the spot and then suddenly an upsurge of emotion rushed to my head and I stepped out of the three wheeler auto rickshaw, paid the fare and moved towards the scene. As I was walking towards the excessively blood spattered pavement I imagined the concerned and helpless euphemisms that surgeons have a habit of repeating to console the family members of the patient who died on the operating table or even more ironically died en route to the hospital. #Traffucked. These consolations must seem so worthless to the ones who lost their near and dear. There is a moment when the door to the waiting room opens with all eyes on the door waiting to catch a drift of visual contact with the doctor and though he performs his merciful duty appropriately but after glancing into those penetratingly sorry eyes, most chords are unplugged and the following is semantically irrespective. I applied thought and the way the scene was taking place, it felt like that old couple did not have any descendants except for one brave “Hero”. This reckoning originated vaguely without logic but was intuitive and could not be helped.
So, by the time the ambulance and law enforcement authorities arrived and cleared the bloody mess I quietly walked up to the crying shepherd and grabbed his leash and tried to bring him with me and to my surprise it followed without any hesitation. As soon as I cleared our way from the crowd I walked to a little nook on the street, devoid of any decibels, and sat on a stranger’s unwelcoming unlit staircase. Hero stood right by my knees passing desperate and confused drooling sighs at me. For a moment I felt afraid of him but then I caressed his head. There was a mournful emotion visible through his vivid eyes. As I comforted his pains he rested his head on my lap and sat down beside me. We shared an unkempt silent loneliness, we knew that at the moment there was no one else in this world who loved us, I was already attached to him. I could not comprehend his state and I dared not to question my impulsive actions to avoid subsequent conundrums but instead I just sat there puffing away at a cigarette thinking to myself that I would take care of this dog if it wished so. So, as I butted the smoke I removed his leash. The reasons for this action were definitely two fold, one, I could not bear nylon chocking his breath at such a crucial time, and second, I didn’t want to force feed him or want to make a slave out of him. I argued giving him a biscuit but decided not to do so in order to eradicate any biasing. I stood up, and started walking out of that lane; I forced myself not to look back for my own sake for I myself was very miserable with all my issues and somehow within the last few minutes the peak of my frustration had transformed into a sort of deranged emotive distraction. Within few minutes, out of sheer alienation, I was already feeling connected to him that I feared not being followed by him, I wanted him to stalk me for the rest of his life but I knew I would be heartbroken to turn my head to the sight of him gone.
As my house approached I was comforted by a very docile company waging its tail slightly behind me. He never barked on the way nor did he overtake me as he also wanted to be lead on and I was the only human ahead. Anyways, I entered my house and waited at the front gate for a minute with the gates open. It was like we were friends belonging to rival nationalities standing at the border with our plight, eyes staring deep into each other that the bodies had faded out, we shared our first moment of unrealized intimacy, at least I did. And then I accepted him as he entered the premises of my life. I was just glad that I had someone walking in through my doors that would at least stay one night, for this was not the perfect time or mental state for me to sit alone. I could’ve easily gone to a bar nearby and hooked up with a random stranger and possibly got him back home and fucked my life up even more but instead this happened. I was, in a way, glad that I did not end up doing that and found my Hero for the night, whatever may happen the next morning, all I cared for at that moment was to get over that miserable day and not accompanied by my loneliness. It was quite possible that I might end up with a stranger in my bed tomorrow night but for now I had a little more than satisfaction. I gave him a nice hot bath to pacify his veins and then we both shared some chicken.
Now, I feel like I have met the cutest little companion I ever can, cute and strong. I am lying in my bed under the quilt to fight the biting coldness of this night and that small poodle I met today has found his place of comfort under my knees and is silently resting there for the while. As much as I am sorry for his loss, I can’t help but be a little excited about his company. I have decided to keep the door open tomorrow and till the time I have received a justifiable assurance from him, I am not going to put a leash around his neck, and even if he stays for good the leash is only for outdoors where he will need a little control to guide him. I have closed the lights and am planning to sleep now. I am enjoying his peaceful snores though I am surprised he slept so early, maybe because of the sumptuous meal. I don’t really know if animals have any emotional connections or comprehensive capacity but he just seems to get me. Maybe he is here for the food or maybe he doesn’t have anywhere better to be tonight. I just wish he stays.