The Coming Of Mr. Obnoxious
The cosmic darkness had just taken over
from the Sun lord, as I walked past the rickety woodwork.
The quintessential tavern was yet to witness
the happy hour and a dense drunkenness.
I took the last of the vacant chairs.
A choice instinctively made looked more like public welfare.
I’d just ordered my drink, the usual one,
when a middle aged man had the melancholy undone.
He graced the place next to me,
in a manly gesture, suggesting a prospective conversation spree.
Ah, here it comes. “You look broken,
and from my experience I can tell it’s love.” Well spoken.
I blabbered, “It’s hard not to be so, considering
the fact that your fiancé’s called off the wedding.”
“While I don’t know where the problem is,
I might happen to have just the solution if you please.”
Interesting. Now I’m at the mercy of an inferior stranger.
“I am sorry sir, but it won’t help ‘cause it’s not me. It’s her.”
“Let me tell you a little story first and,
when it ends, may be you’ll walk out a wiser man.”
“Okay,” I said. “As long as it helps, go on.”
I think it was the alcohol that made me agree to the moron.
***
THE STORY
A beautiful summer evening, it seemed,
was a perfect setup for her grand arrival.
Caffeine intoxicated, I sat reading the paper;
hardly grasping nature’s signs at my disposal.
‘Ginny’s café’, as the place was known then,
was my refuge while I was yet to taste ethanol.
In she came and the world around me changed.
Out of the mortal league, thought I, she stands above all.
Sitting at my 12 o’clock was Aphrodite herself.
Out of nowhere it popped,” No one died drinking coffee with me.”
I cursed myself after expressing what ended up
in but desperateness. I so wished to flee.
“Let me see how true that is,” said a voice
sweeter than the dispatch in a Hollywood story.
And the dream was coming true while I was still dreaming.
“Coffee’s good,” she said and I raised my cup stealing the maker’s glory.
And on went the conversation, for how long I know not;
as keeping note of time was the least of my concerns.
Apparently she was new in the town and needed showing around.
Perfect. I thought watching the clouds form beautiful patterns.
And it started, ask not what.
As I am not sure; dating by definition
in the disguise of showing around was I. Still unaware
of what lay ahead, beyond the obvious premonition.
As days went by, the desperation took over;
what was it that we had? The curiosity didn’t help.
And countless hours of ‘showing around’ later
we sat at the same place, the beginning itself.
Before I could fire it all, she gave the look.
“I-have-to-tell-you-something.
I asked myself what emotion should I wear?
Excitement that it’s what I wish or anticipation of the worst.
Now she backed that look with real words.
And comes the ‘something’. “It’s about Jake, my boyfriend.”
My heart shattered, with every piece hurting my insides.
So it is indeed the second one. A tragic end.
And on went our little coffee-table meetings(no longer dates);
The topic of conversation always somehow drifted
towards the Jake part and all I did was listen.
It was high time my spirits needed to be lifted.
Apparently Mr. I-kicked-your-ass-without-
I said, "Long distance thing with occasional element of surprise."
“No,” she said. “We live together. He has a day job.”
I made an apologising gesture and said, “Now isn’t that paradise.”
“So let’s have lunch together sometime,” said
my pretending self ; I didn’t want to see that Agent Whatever.
“But he doesn’t have holidays. Not much of a social insect.”
All you have to do is ask for things and they’ll happen never.
It felt good for a start, not wanting to see him.
But gradually the human urge to find out
what Agent Perfect looked like grew into an obsession.
I ought to know what exactly I envy, as that is what it’s all about.
But however hard I tried, it wasn’t to be.
Apparently Agent Busy-ass didn’t see visitors;
not even at night. But I kept on pressing
and finally she agreed to unveil the monster.
Mr. Unseen Marvel had had her promise not to
mention him to anyone, leave aside disclosing his true identity.
In a nutshell she had to pretend all the time
that she was single. God this is pure insanity.
“So why me?” I fired a textbook cliché.
“You’re the first real friend I’ve had in ages.
We keep moving you see. Jake and I.”
“Thanks,” I bowed. Borrowing another from the same pages.
But that didn’t help. Not one bit. The more
I thought about it, the more intrigued I was by the anomaly.
The mystery man had to be found at any cost.
And I had to take it up to me to unravel the mystery.
Why? I wasn’t sure. But how? I just knew it.
I decided to watch the lion at his own hole.
I made a plan, and waited for the moment;
till then all I needed was a patient soul.
After our very next rendezvous, I slithered
behind, totally unnoticed by the target party.
The thing about being followed is you always know,
yet you are never sure of the jeopardy.
Somehow I made it to her place and
the hunt for a safe vantage point ended as it began.
An average apartment for the glorified Mr. Secret Services.
All narrowed down to patience; I was looking at a mammoth’s lifespan.
After (it must’ve been) hours, I saw her approaching the door.
The eeriness of it stuck me, when I saw no one outside.
Before I could digest any of this, she started talking.
“Holy crap!” I almost screamed, as she ushered the invisible inside.
I hardly remember how I made it home.
I’d undoubtedly witnessed a supernatural force.
The first thing I did next morning was
get an appointment with a psychiatrist, the only visible door.
After analysing, what he said shocked me to my very neurons.
I wasn’t sick as I did have a clean past record.
On the other hand my lovely lady so was.
“…Frontal lobes…..dopamine….
“Impossible!” I yelled as he diagnosed her without
even seeing her; on the precarious grounds of my word.
But then what I’d seen was true to its very description.
She was suffering from what was unlike anything I’d seen or heard.
The doctor begged me to get her an appointment.
It was a tough task, that one, getting her to the couch.
Yet I decided to gamble. For what it was worth,
impossible seemed too less to conquer, without a hint of doubt.
So the next meeting was centred around one thing
and only one thing—to get her self-centered self
into therapy. At times like these all you’ve got to do is
hit a nerve and bang! The victim becomes a hypnotised elf.
The first time she flatly refused, as there comes
always a thinking process, a little introspection, an insight.
And then a few meetings later, she mentioned it herself,
trying to be her casual self, stressing on ‘just in case’, to but my delight.
So the date was fixed, and I knew the doctor would go slow.
I had to rely on him, but I couldn’t help the anxiety.
And it happened. I could swear I saw it coming.
In the very first sitting the doctor upset the deity.
The primary therapy was a blunder,
She was her worst self, the one that defied my imagination.
She wouldn’t talk to me anymore, a sentence well deserved.
I decided to wait till the other end of this hibernation.
I would check on her through the doc, suppressing all the temptation.
The doc wasn’t too hopeful, said she was worse than expected;
stuck right between a delightful dream and an appalling reality.
I visualised a man laughing, in the fortress of her majesty’s, still lovingly incarcerated.
I waited and waited, but nothing good came of it.
Months later when she’d left therapy, I decided to intervene again.
This time I had to do it right, for the only thing that mattered.
I had to bring her into reality and relieve her of the unbearable pain.
With the help of a friend, I had the setup ready.
I slid into her apartment to witness the ultimate homecoming.
Everything was made to look normal. She entered.
That’s it dear. Now onwards no more dreaming.
“Honey! I’m home.” She exclaimed.
She switched the lights on and kissed thin air.
As long as she doesn’t know, he doesn’t.
She sat on the couch to watch television; begins his nightmare.
“Funny!” she looked towards the kitchen, “I am on t.v.
This looks so familiar…It’s our place… It’s live!”
Now the subconscious knew my plan.
I imagined him coming into the room to save his hive.
“Turn the damn thing off!” he must have said.
“Wait a sec..! Why aren’t you there in the t.v.??!!"
I fought with the tears, as I watched her struggle.
I ran towards her, held her in my arms, protecting her from the subconscious melee.
“Don’t worry, I am here.” She clung on to me.
So tightly that it might have hurt any other day.
But not today. Not when my shirt is wet with her tears.
“Move in with me?” I asked. And she agreed straight away.
***
“It took her nine years of therapy to attain a normal
state for a schizophrenic patient. Such was the wait
for our first kiss and I never regret it. As I shared that
moment with the only woman I’d ever loved. It was great!
“Even now she stares at empty spaces;
apparently the devil still haunts her which she flatly refuses.
But I know he does. And I make sure I am always there
to scare him away. Spotting me, back to thin air he defuses.
“I fought with a man who didn’t even exist,
while you only have your obsessed self to fight.
Go and get her while she’s still yours.
If you indeed love her, do it first thing by the morning light.”
“I guess I will. Give my best wishes to the missus.”
I exclaimed, enlightened by the heart touching reality.
With that he gestured adieu and I(still intoxicated) bade “Merry Christmas!”
Mind was still focussed on the love saga, even as I reached my locality.
The very next morning I called my fiancé and apologised;
for everything. She was a cup of cake once you did that.
Wedding fixed. Next up was gratitude for the life saving advice.
I went to the barman to enquire about the man with the baseball hat.
The barman hadn’t seen the man I mentioned. The moron!
Then I asked, “The man who I was talking to last night?”
“Are you kidding?” he said. “Last night you were all alone.
All the time.” “Holy Christ!” I yelled “This doesn’t seem right.”
The conjurer himself was conjured by my subconscious.
If it hadn’t been for the immortal tale and the advice of a lifetime,
no matter what, I’d surely have killed Mr. Obnoxious.
Even if that meant ending up with my own deceased regime.
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