For
hours, I flipped the pages going deeper through the eyes of Toru Watanabe in Norwegian
Wood. I finally gave up to strained eyes and striking midnight. The fatigue
easily induced sleep. Long before I could process the thoughts or complain
about the nights, I subconsciously slipped into another world. The monsoon and
rain, not much to complain.
I
woke in the middle of the night by soft knock on the door followed by the
bouncing of basketball. Alarmed, I reached for cellphone to check the time ‘Seriously?
1:48am, who the hell is playing basketball at this hour?’ The urge to get out
and smack the punk was more than failing heart at that moment.
My
ghost walked through bedroom door, main door and verandah door without
unlatching a single door. She had a cricket bat clasped tightly. FYI a cricket
bat from neighboring kid. Black tights were complimented well by the black
boots and leather jacket, a top tied hair and fire in her eyes. The full moon
illumination made it picture perfect just like a scene from a movie.
As
light as she walked inching closer to them, she never felt stronger in years. The
smirk on her lips, determination to teach lesson to those bastards and upright
posture almost gave chill to those immature punks. She scanned around to each
face and counted the head. As per her quick mental calculation she jumped high,
kicked all six of them subsequently and landed with a class. She beat two of
them with bat while still kicking and pinning others with her boots. The groans
and cries made her to stop beating the shit out of them. She almost beat them
again and warned with conviction to never disturb the neighborhood again. They agreed
instantly and ran away feebly.
With
the triumphant smile and fireworks in the background, she threw the bat in a style
and walked as if she owned the night putting shame to the witnessing stars and
a moon. Yes, without unlocking, she passed all three doors and came to
celebrate with me. She looked radiant glowing with the undisputable confidence.
There
she found me cornered at bed, draped in blanket clutching the bed sheet,
sweating profusely, holding a pee, prayer beads in hand and chanting ‘Om Ah
Hung Benza Guru Pema Siddhi Hung’ thousand times.
