A Man among Wolves

Chapter 11

He didn't even feel the rain, even as he got completely drenched within seconds.

He just kept walking along the deserted, crooked lane. It took real, hard, conscious efforts to avoid slipping on the mud and rainwater. That was enough to keep his mind off everything else. At least until he reached the main road, which was made of tar and wasn't as slippery.

Selva walked past a mosque, where the evening prayers had just begun. It was closely followed by a small Madurai Veeran temple that was smaller than the living room he had just paced about. There was an ATM beyond it. Following that came a mess and a closed stall where the shopkeeper usually sold herbal leaves. At a distance near the horizon, Selva could see what could only be the lights and roofs of M.A.Chidambaram Stadium.

He continued on. The rain was coming down at varying intensities. One moment, it felt like a mother's gentle pat on the back and a few minutes later, it had the intensity of a man squashing an annoying bug. There were moments when it would have been difficult to walk. But, Selva was almost oblivious to the difficulties of walking under the rain. He was already enjoying it. Something about being drenched by a heavy shower was endearing to him at the moment.

There were no shops that sold cigarettes. Many shopkeepers had already shut their shops down and retreated to their homes because it didn't seem like the dense rain would stop anytime soon. The shops that were still open were out of cigarettes.

Selva gritted his teeth irritably as he walked faster. He was paying no heed to where his legs carried him. He just wanted to keep walking. Maybe forever. He didn't want to stop even if his legs gave out.

That would serve him right for his stupidity.

He had been stupid enough to make a major decision by tossing a coin. He had been stupid enough to accept the job, even when he knew it was going to do him no good. No, stupid wasn't the word for it. Perhaps 'coward' would fit the bill. He had lacked the courage to decline the offer because he had trembled at the sight of Agilan and his cronies. And that had led him down this path where he almost got himself involved in a murder. Again, he had lacked the courage to actually point the gun in the right direction and pull the trigger. But his ultimate act of cowardice had been his lie to Agilan. He could have blurted out the truth and cried at the man's feet, begging for forgiveness. But, no. He had to lie!

And that act might be the final nail in his coffin!

Selva sat down on the pavement, absently. His mind went back to cigarettes again.

He had no idea how long he sat there. The only thing he was conscious about was his headache, which evolved from the dull throb to a booming pain as time passed. He came to his senses when the pain became almost unbearable. Partly, a loud thunder also had a role to play in awakening him. By that time, it was dark. There were very few streetlights in that locality. Even the ones that existed only emitted a feeble glow. And apart from the frogs croaking happily and the regular rumble of thunders, there was silence.

Selva got up and began walking in a direction which he believed would take him home. Suddenly, he felt very uncomfortable in the dress that was soaked to the last fibre. He was also dreadfully tired and wanted to sleep.

It took him some time to find his way back home. It seemed to be a longer return journey, mostly because his body felt heavier on the way back and he couldn't walk fast.

Reaching home, he bolted the door and lay down immediately.

It dawned on Selva that he was hungry. But his hunger was heavily eclipsed by the tiredness. He couldn't have stretched his hand to take a bite out of his meal, even if it was placed in front of him. It was that sort of fatigue. All he could do at that moment was look at the ceiling fan.

He realised he was mistaken.

Everything he thought was right, except for the present day's events.

Yes, it was his fault that he got into this mess. It was his fault that he kept going even when things became uncomfortable. He had not stopped when the red light shined brightly in his face. His heart couldn't even muster enough courage to make him bolt in the opposite direction at the junkyard. Hence, until that point, it was all him.

But how could he have killed that journalist? Morality aside, this was his first time handling a real gun. Even if he had pointed it in the direction of Balaji Rangan, there was a high chance the bullets would have gone off target. He probably couldn't have killed him even if he had tried. No, that part wasn't completely his fault! The situation had gone awry, trapping him in its grip!

And then, there was the lie! What else could he have done? Could he really have told the truth to Agilan? Had he done that, would he be alive right now? Selva knew the answer to that question. So, he had taken the best decision there as well.

Perhaps he should have left Albert and Gugan there and absconded. It would have saved him a lot of time. He was an idiot!

As minutes passed, Selva's eyelids became heavy. His thoughts became hard to process. A voice inside him advised him to find Agilan and speak up honestly to him, about everything. His refusal to do so had been the root cause of this entire fiasco. Perhaps he should learn from his mistake and do it at least now, if he wished to save himself from the life threatening consequences that awaited. But then a battling voice screamed that it was a moronic idea and would lead to his death anyway...

His snores filled the room and he fell into a deep slumber.