Road 01, Wing-C37, Women’s Hostel 02, Cantonment.

Road 01, Wing-C37, Women’s Hostel 02,

Cantonment.

She loved her new freedom.  The finality of a pause.

She woke up in the mornings. Watched the urbanity scream the sirens and blot(er) the Black sky. But, Lira, as she would call herself, liked it. There was certain sublime to the hazy rings of morning cigarettes. They made a blot too. Copulation- Morning Mist and Puff, one beauty. The freshness of her blanket and her untouched nakedness underneath the Long T-shirt, was a beautiful death. 

Just there, in the closest end to the periphery.

She always preferred a cigarette before her Joint. To set in the set, perhaps.

Woken up and about, Lira. Oh Yes. Her name I should tell you is actually Lirath, with a stretch on second syllable. Easier, Liraath. Lirath Belles. 

Lira would roll then a joint and watch her empty room. The soleness of her entity and the weed-ey air was a lucid, Lira liked now.

To roam around in her own vibe.

She would look at her wardrobe and praise her yesterday’s deadening trip of cleaning up the whole of almirah. Stacked and neat, she sits on the cot and just stares.

She had a little more than a li’l pot ,neatly stacked in her bag. Lira was seeing someone lately. A curious interest she had taken in, to the good idea of The steady Dosage of New People.

Hym, as she would call him was an interest, rare. Lira was waiting for his call.

The phone rings. And, surprisingly a bird chirps somewhere in the distance.

 Lira smiles a subtle and briefs up with Hym to come to her room to smoke up. He claims to have some Kush.  She straightened up and brushed Good for the rainy morning.

A Cozy and the certain tint of that felicity.

And, a dewy yawn.

Knock.

Clicks. And opens.

And Hym is a li’l damp and, absorbing all the heat.  He walks in and settles on the cot. Wet.

“Do you want to freshen up ?”.

“I just did.”

“Okay. I’ll get something hot to drink.

The birds were chirping today y’know.”

“Wi:men”

“You do sound lame at times, dude.

And, I wonder why that sentence would not settle in.”

Lira walks in with the coffee and sits down.

Then, she gets up instantly and goes to the wardrobe, pulls out a sturdy clean Jeans and pulls it on, making some and enough hitting around.

The Lighter clicks and Lira smells that faint bellow.

“Hoi.”

“Well, let’s go one-on, on it.

Take.

Hold.”

Lira could feel the numbing taste of it. Of the white smoke. And she settled down. And the sounds settle in.

The absence of sound,

 but noise

 IS. The generator came on in a delightful hurry

and blared on. The pigeons, at all ,

kept on flying to and fro and whining up in the sky.

Hym put the Moribunds and the smell plunged in. She was lost in the trance for something less than a less, and

“BOOM”,

From the kitchen, came screeching by.

Lira uttered a soft ‘Fack’ and ran in.

The cling-clan happened for some time and she came out.

“That was the last batch of coffee that I had.”

“This is perhaps why you should add the coffee powder later.”

“No, I add it, later .”

“Bad Day.”

“Exactly .

But, it was not a bad day. I heard a bird chirp after ages with my Nico ringing in the background. And, its been fresh and pristine, all the same.”

“Oh. For a Good Change, you added the powder inititally. Humph.”

Hym chuckles a li’l and stretches on the cot.

“I did not add the coffee powder.

 It is still there. The Last batch it is.

 And, it was because it boomed off the stove and spread hell. BAD Day.”

“Oh. So, you wouldn’t just retry because it was a good day and suddenly it’s a Bad Day because there was a BOOM.”

“Hmm. That seems . Right. So you do agree, today is a bad day.

Is that all the stuff you had ?”

Hym screeched a loud laugh and started off blaming her Menstruation in account of the farce.

Lira just freezes her stare at Hym and, stares.

“Why do you NEEEED to look in the twistED angle. I do not want coffee. If you desire, please be comfortable to make it.”

“I still don’t understand how y’re not high.”

“Lord. Hym, I’m pretty much buzzed. I’m not pissed or off mode. I had a good start to the day and I just did explain an interesting sarcasm in there. So, please stop being conclusive like that.”

“I actually used a simple usual menstrual reason.

So, y’re not menstruating.”

“Yah. I’m breeding some vamps inside that they will prove to you how much a menstruation-deprived woman-I-am”.

“Issues.

Ahem Ahem.”

“Well, I flow over and high. A perpetual prick once it IS.”

Lira started searching her bag for the stubbed out joints that has been always there.
 She picked out two and passed one to Hym. They lit it up and did a Double blow.
The Moribunds shooting right up was a descend to the rupturing hit of the double blow-back.

Lira stretched on the cot beside Hym. She wondered what is destined to happen between them. She wanted merely the company of that person who talked endlessly on Meena’s Subaltern Fallacies. Who is definite a trip .

Hym got up and went into the kitchen,  and the cling-clan that followed, had a perfect coffee to it.

It’d been three days since she met Hym. They’d been talking and talking for endless hours since Thursday. Her cantonment was deserted for the holidays. So Lira had managed up the guts to roll and smoke up inside.

Hym had been an interesting opening into the New People Dosage. Lira met Hym in the Park, Central, three days before. He’d asked for a lighter and since then the Stranger Story was steady and rooted. Hym talked about the soiled, dung scented weed he had to thrive on since the escape from the rehab. He told he never remembered why he was put there. But, he believes he is in parallel with the world’s sanity and is par irritation, with people trying to sniff down on his freedom. He is on a Survival Rant.

 As he says, the dung scented weed used to coax their hunger to a certain intersection, where they craved for the hottest and gooey-est of the dung.

In another story he said how he had been with cannibals and the claim of their menace being nothing but us.

 Not us humans.

And, storied lavenders of Nightly tiaras blotching the dirt across and beneath. The assaults, and stale sneers of Roach balls and rotten bananas were all part of his stories.

Lira had seen storytellers.A lot of storytellers.

Lira was a story teller.

Except for the cannibalistic theme that he deliberately glided over, the rest were a good heap for gif.makers.

And, I bet it would’ve sold better than the worm-is-comin-outta-that-dick one on 4chan.  

Hym came in something exactly 3 minutes with two cups of coffee. She gulped it down in half a minute. And heaved a sigh.

“Thank You, Hym.”

And she went into the sleep of ash.

A month more of unsuccessful surgeries to stitch back her innards and limbs, the doctors failed to save Lira’s Life.

She died and the mutilator was never found.

Certain others of the similar followed.