It was too lonely here.

Lonely and silent; those were what he hated the most, or not maybe. He wasn't even sure about himself at this point.

He bent down and panted heavily, trying to catch up to his racing heart. The blanket of black soil that stretched till the eyes met the horizon, felt unusually icy against the sole of his bare feet.

"Where am I?" He whispered to himself.

The dense forest made it hard to find a way through it. If lost, he was more than sure that he was, he would be engulfed forever in the predatory niche which was sinfully attractive and charmingly dangerous.

The question was, did he want that?

No, not now.

He shook his head and gulped a lump, his adam of apple bobbing with the movement. What was this sudden, vehement thirst encompassing his being?

"Ugh!"
He dropped on his knees. The silence, it was deafening. It was scalding him.

"No, no, no. Stop it! Someone stop it, please," he pleaded in the rather deserted surrounding.

Clutching his hair, he felt an urge, an indefinable quench. It was as if something was lulling him, like a mother's honeyed lullaby.
The voice started humming; it spoke to him, very quietly, extremely serene.

"Kill yourself."
"End this misery."

He smiled.

He would, he needed to.

He would fall into eternal peace and embrace the abyss of the sweet voice.

He gasped, suddenly pulled out of the horrifying trance. He scrambled back and frowned. What pulled him out?

A sound of even breathing drew his attention.
A girl, a young lady perhaps, was peeking from the shrubbery.

Her eyes, they were the most pleasing creations he had ever laid his eyes upon. Though, her face was not visible.

He squinted his eyes.

Strings of smooth giggles slashed the silence mercilessly.

She brought her hand forward and crooked a finger, summoning him, urging him to follow her.

He did not move an inch. A sudden warmth of authority shot into his arteries and veins continuously. The warmth of blood reached his brain, then travelled southward, ablazing the root of his ears.

He stood still, straight and waiting.

The lady's hand fell limp at her her sides. She turned strangely immobile.

Then, she laughed.
"Come, find me."

Her voice was the sweetest nectar of this world; forbidden and perhaps, venomous too.

"Come, find me," she repeated.

"I've been waiting for you," she stated.
"Come, find me."

It was now that he noticed, she was starting to fade. The fabric of white that was clinging her body, slowly was vanishing along with her.

"Where?" He asked out loud.

"I'll be waiting for you," she giggled.

He moved forward, wanting to tangle the threads of time.

"Where do I find you? Tell me."

She blessed him with her sweet voice for the last time before everything turned... silent.

And he remembered...

... that he hated silence.

*****

January 27, 2020
Mumbai, India
______________________________

"Son of a... "

Shiva's jaw found a very smooth way of falling off the hinges.

He looked at his half-drenched self, then at the tap in his hand that had come off of the wall. The broken pipe was spurting water at him.

He would have probably laughed at some other point, some other circumstance, but not now.

Because this was a very hilariously money-demanding situation.

"Money."

His mouth curled up in distaste as he came out of the bathroom and scrambled through his untidy clothes, searching for his phone.

"Answer my call, damn it," he yelled in frustration.

After five annoying rings, the landlord answered his call, screeching in laughter.

"My boy, how come you recalled me this early in the morning?"

Shiva gritted his teeth, unbuttoning his now-wet shirt.

"Who died at the time you led the foundation of this apartment, sir?" He asked sardonically.

"Wh-What?"

"That was the exact expression I gave when the screws flew out of the hinges of the front door, presumably a week prior; when a huge chunk of paint fell on my head from the ceiling last night and... " Shiva kept the broken tap on the dresser's top.

"... the tap embraced my hand's warmth and waltzed out of the wall."

The landlord let out a strange sound. Shiva did not even know a proper term for the sound, whether to term it as a snort or brisk laugh.

He rolled his eyes and combed his hair after changing. He could actually visualize the man, rubbing his pot belly and lolling his tongue over his lips.

"Gross!" Shiva shook his head.

"What are you saying?"

"Didn't you hear the first time? I am sure, I didn't talk in some alien language," Shiva retorted.
"I pay the maintenance fee every month, for God's sake."

"Now listen to me carefully," he said in a warning tone.

"My foster parents might as well start laughing at me from heaven, just looking at the amount I spend in this shit of a flat. You get it?
I ain't got so much money to throw at you, and even if I did, I would not. The reason? Money's precious to me and I do not grow it like opium."

Sauntering into the kitchen, he took out last night's leftovers and heated them.

"So, get to the damn flat and get everything repaired by evening. If not, be ready to find a sizzling article on your apartment in the newspaper tomorrow."

Shiva disconnected, cutting off his stuttering and pleading.

"Moron."

He exhaled deeply, blowing the strands of hair out of his forehead. Trying not to grimace at the sight of cauliflower, he finally sat for the breakfast.

*****

Checking the locks for the third time, Shiva made his way towards the elevator.

"Shiva."

He winced at the sweet voice that had stopped his peaceful venture. He turned around, forcing a smile on his face. He never knew that smiling could be this painful, apart from the aching facial muscles.

Chitra sashyed her way to him.

The sway of her hips seemed almost illegal in the family-oriented apartment. Shiva's gaze travelled all the way long her dress which was an inch shorter than the last time he saw her. There was a bounce in her voluminous hair that laid so neatly upon her left shoulder.

If looking so sensually beautiful was a crime, then she would have been convicted a thousand times.
And that, he was more than sure of.

A month ago, had anyone told him that he would run at the mere sight of a woman so beautiful, he would have laughed at their face after punching the living daylights out of them.

However, the irony of life played at him, and here he was, trying to escape her beauty.

Not that he was resistant towards her beauty. For the entire Mumbai knew, Shiva lived for two things: money and beautiful women, contrasting and poles apart choices but he could manage that.

A month ago, he had seen Chitra for the first-time, while she was shifting into his adjoining flat. Everything seemed dreamy at that moment; her hair dancing in air rhythmically, everything else fading away, her laughter in slow motion and a 90s original romantic song playing as the background music, just perfect.

Since then, days were spent, waiting for her arrival; nights were passed without a wink of sleep, attempting to steal few glimpses of her. He had even spent a whole sum of one thousand rupees, thinking that she was worth it. Her shy smiles, flattering comments and frequent visits; these things did add fuel to his inner furnace of dreams. Until, he rudely came to know that she was married.

The day that had chucked all his dreams into ruination. The day when he voluntarily bought a branded bottle of Beer, quite expensive but exquisitely fine, and drowned his sorrow in alcohol.

The very next day, he took an oath, somewhere in between a severe hangover, that he would pursue a lady only after checking her marital status.

"Shiva."

Chitra's voice broke Shiva's reverie.

"Actually," she prodded, curling a lock of hair around her finger.
"My bedroom-door is jammed and it isn't opening. Can you please help me?"

"Mrs. Karmakar," Shiva cleared his throat.
"It would be better if you asked your husband for help or the landlord. A third party like---- I mean, it wouldn't look nice if a third party like me entered your personal space."

Chitra scrunched her face and parted her lips to deny him.

"Thank you for understanding," Shiva added hurriedly.
"I am getting late, by the way. See you later."

"I hope, I don't," he muttered mentally.

The elevator's door opened with a ping, making him sigh in a relief.

He entered and waved a bye, literally punching the button to the ground floor. The elevator's door slid shut, shutting her view as well.

Shiva rested his head against the metallic wall.

"Damn her," he paused, contemplating for a second.

"Damn her husband also."

*****

The elevator's door opened with a swish. Shiva hung his ID card around his neck in an extreme hurry and more or less skated to his office chamber.

Ravi, his colleague and part-time friend, shook his head in disappointment.

"1 hour late, Shiva. You keep on improving each day," he jabbed.

Shiva gulped water, not paying heed to his words. People talked about anything and everything, the matter of actually following it, was totally under his control.

"Landlord, beautiful woman, traffic," he uttered, resting his case.

"That almost sums up your life. Don't forget the money part. Anyway, do explain that to our Editor. The way he keeps breathing down your neck, you might as well start vacating this chamber."

Shiva did not say a word. He settled down on his chair and gave a strong kick to Ravi's, causing it to swivell for a few seconds.

"Bro!"

"My love, bro," Shiva mocked.

His laptop's screen glowed with life and he stared at it grimly. Junior journalist, it wasn't the most profitable of jobs but he earned enough. Just enough to not get trampled by the ambitious crowd in 'the city of dreams', where everyone was behind their dreams.

Somewhere along the faint line that glowed with wisp unfathomable spells, he knew he was not where he was meant to be. He was the odd one in the crowd, fighting each day to appear as normal as they were but the fact could not be defied that normality did not ever fascinate him. It was the sense of insanity that enchanted him.

It was not the light of dawn that brightened his face. It was always the darkness before the dawn that shaded his soul and made him fall in love with it.

This life was never his, he knew. There was some other waiting for him, calling him.

"Come, find me."

A familiarly unknown whisper rang in his ears. Clutching his head, he tried to relax the tensed muscles.

"Where did I hear that?" He muttered.

"---va."

"Shiva."

Ravi's jerk broke his trance.

"Are you alright? Boss's been calling since long. Go."

Shiva did not need to be told twice. Nearly running to the Editor's chamber, he calmed and knocked the door.

"Come in."

"Ah! Shiva."

Shiva's brows furrowed.
"Something's wrong."

"Sir."

"You are fired."

A thunderbolt would have struck him with less potency than the three words.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The editor leaned against his seat.
"Oh! I will after you pack your things."

"Sir, bu---"

"Listen, Shiva. I was very much clear when I hired you that nothing's permanent here. Your termination is an inevitable part, I can't do a thing here. I know, you were one of the best but... I am sorry, I hope you understand."

Shiva stared at him blandly. Then, nodded and silently left his cabin.

The editor wiped the sheen of sweat off with a trembling hand.

"Ma'am. Yes, ma'am. As per your instructions, I fired him. I hope my editor's position stays the same," he waited with batted breath before smiling.
"Thank you, ma'am."

Outside the office complex, Shiva walked with a cardboard box filled to its brim. Feeling numb, he sat down under the shade of a tree.

Sometimes, life was funny but its jokes on him were not funny at all.

"Shit!" He whispered.
"I am jobless."

"And no job means no money. No money, no lady."