KATHA

28 KATHA - MINE

His handprints on my back burned as I sat on the stone floor of the solarium, the echoes of sharp slaps resonating in my ears like a melody that refuses to fade into background. I looked down on my bruised wrists, a sensation shot down my spine like lightening. A lot had happened last night. I had completely given myself to him and claimed him as mine. In all damn sense of the word. And I was so glad I did.

I had decided to close the shop for the day because there was no way I was going to run a busy Tea Shop while my body was consumed in a delicious ache, reminding me of his touch with every move I made and breath I took. Every move I made reminded what the Bombay night sky had witnessed. There was not a surface untouched. The bedroom floor, the wall by the window where the curtains lay torn, by the pond in the courtyard, and we somehow stumbled into the solarium past midnight and I didn't even realise when I passed out.

To put it simply, It was an erotic dance, a sensual orchestration, that would make Kamasutra experts shy and red in the face.

Now I watched the 6am horizon while he oiled and massaged my head. He was sitting on the round bed and I was sitting on the floor between his legs.

That man was mine now.

Mine.

Since that night, I'd never even entertained the idea of letting a man close to me, let alone try a relationship. Thinking of the future was as far as Delhi. Rishi tried a lot to get me to meet someone and start a life but he understood that I needed time so he never pushed me much. He was the only living, breathing person that understood what I went through and what it did to me. I was living in a shell, my only priority was revenge and Rishi.

A lot was taken from me on that dark night. I took a knife and cut a lot off myself to get rid of the essence of my ruination but in vain. Ever since, I'd been swimming in the ocean of agony, those wails, those cries of help, that blood and destruction of two innocent souls. I was still stained in that night, stained in each moment, in each memory, in each breath, I was stained in my blood, I was stained in Sina's blood and I knew no amount of cutting would take it away. I'd flay my skin and yet feel everything as if it just happened the other night.

Now I smelt like Kalki, marked by him, loved by him, cherished by him and it was his pain that I felt all over my body. He kissed each and every scar that marred me and covered them with his own. My breasts, my thighs, my legs, my body was his canvas.

He said I looked so beautiful. So strong. He was in awe. He wasn't disgusted. I knew he'd never be and that was why it was so easy for me to bare myself to him. Completely. Just like he did. He had just as many scars as I did. If not, more. A testament to the dark years of his life before he built his throne over Bombay and ruled it. With every word and every touch as he made me his, he claimed me, he wove a tapestry of love and understanding around me, erasing the scars and the screams.

He cherished me for who I was, unapologetically and without reservation. With him, I could breathe freely. His presence was home. His presence was like Rishi.

I was happier than I'd ever been.

"Done." He told me once he oiled my hair, massaged my scalp for an hour, I may add, and tied my hair up.

I took the hand mirror off the bed and looked at my reflection.

I laughed.

My oiled hair was neatly pushed back and tied right on top of my head in a round, tight bun that oddly looked like a black egg.

"What ?" He grinned wide, way too proud of his handiwork.

"Kiki I... I look funny." I laughed again.