He sat in isolation looking at people around him. The sounds seemed
to resonate in the air. He felt a tingling sensation on his back when
music flooded through the speakers. His thoughts seemed interrupted as
he touched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt soften the pinch
of unfamiliar glasses. Sipping the drink with caution he regained his
focus. Every person who entered the bar was caught in his gaze. He
looked at them with stark observation and shifted his eyes back to the
next person who walked through the door. An unconscious disappointment
emerged between slightly pressed lips every time he looked back at the
entrance. As if, he tallied each person against a mental description of
someone he seemed too eager to meet.
While he observed
these people he seemed to know more about them than he wanted to know.
Good people trying to be bad. People caught in the company of the bad.
Peer pressure, social obligations all became visible to his eyes. He saw
women, trading off their dignity to appear little fashionable and
broadminded while their inner souls cringed with disgust. Men gulping
down more drinks than they can handle to reinforce their gender as if
someone questioned them about it. Little scum bags killing time till
they found someone who wouldn’t be able to figure out a few missing
notes from their heavy wallets. Bartenders entertaining guests they
didn’t care about. Everyone masked by concealing identities.
The
tiny chips of mirrors on few of the walls transported him back to his
school days when he was made to hold two mirrors in front of each other.
He remembered the reflections, his astonishment when he looked in to
the mirrors -Infinite images. His life seemed to be trapped in the
illusion of these infinite images. A sadness wrapped around his heart
when he recollected his ten year old self. He couldn’t identify with
himself anymore and yet he could connect to everybody around him. He had
been through everything these people were facing and, a lot more. He
felt his hands against his face as if to register how his visage looked
like. He caught his image of in one of the reflections- a harmless young
man dressed like it was his first visit to the place. The image
disturbed him. He shut his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck in an
attempt to let go of the emotions that seem to suffocate him. The
metallic object tucked at his waist touched his skin and his lips
pressed again- disappointment. But this time his eyes didn’t have a
shade of regret as if this disappointment was embedded to him and had
become a part of his life.
He shifted the gaze to the
entrance again and saw a group of girls walk in. Clam and composed he
finished the drink observing each face. He followed the group as they
walked and chatted with inexplicable joy and delight. Women- He sighed!
He
focussed his attention on one girl in particular. He battled the pity
he felt for her. He saw her move to the dance floor. He didn’t look at
her directly. He caught her reflection behind his mirror image; a woman
dressed in a colourful shirt and unusual green cotton trousers. Little
stars hanging from delicate strings that were tied into a fashionable
knot at her wrist. Beautiful flow of the curls, her hair swung around
her as she danced to an incomprehensible beat. He gave an unconscious
nod as if reassuring himself of something. In the next few minutes the
reflection of the women fell on the floor with blood splattered across
her face. The mirrors held reflections of people horrified by what had
happened.
He? He disappeared into one of the
infinite concealing images. The gun felt hot tucked at his waist. Lips
pressed with disappointment but his eyes- no regret. His way of dealing
with guilt was putting the blame on the people who hired him. As long as
there was someone wanting someone else dead- it could be anyone who
could become the killer. This day, this time, this life- it was him.
P.S: Written as a part of Captured Writings
