Dancing In the Moonlight
Of the monsters under my bed, one is Shlok the Agony-hotri; only dreadfully he is not under the bed rather under the cover inches away from me. How I wish I could tickle him if I only had those wolverine blades in my hands.
He really needs a shrink to give some intellectual soup for the straw he carries in his headpiece. Actually the whole Aloohotri's need one; ops sorry too many aloos make me go aloo crazy. Poor me the damn nutritionists cease to consider it a vegetable. But I am so sure that these Agnihotris can live without water but not potatoes just like vamps cant live without blood.
From blood comes to my mind my dear hubby who loves sucking my blood too let alone every tiny bit of the little left of my peace of mind.
Minus the tiny thing resembling a heart, I once used to consider, he had the nigga with his six feet three frame, over towering me all the time, is a living robo; the one programmed with nothing but hitler-giri; just like his daddy dear.
Actually forget everything. At the exact moment I was one-o-two on the thermometer and my parched throat dearly demanded water. The cough made it worse. I cursed myself for forgetting it was December and like a brainless kiddo jumping into the rain, only last night. Rain surly drives the little left of my senses insane. None the less it is indeed true that insanity is a greater might.
I had consumed the last tiny drop of the cup on my side and still my throat was nowhere near good. At the same time drowsiness was over taking my consciousness. The kitchen felt a mile away and my muscles ached too much to walk down and get myself a life-giving glass of water. My eyes got heavier every second.
*0*
I drowned my hands further inside my pockets as the chilly evening breeze came greeting me; rather I stepped out to compel it to greet me. Well it was past midnight; there wasn't a single human soul around and the pitch darkness augmented the gloom of a cold December night. I exhaled out the air which diffused into the atmosphere as tiny, minuscule droplets.
If I was 102 degrees the atmosphere stooped as low as -2 degree. I jumped on the abandoned street saying good bye to the safety of the good old pavement. The rain had just stopped and its essence was still drifting around in the misty fogginess and chaos all over the place.
I shivered; considering myself a total fool to have tossed out of the comforting warmth of the bed and rolling in the streets with a temperature taking me down every second. Any sane being would have cursed me and called me a buffoon. But the crazy thing was the cold of the night did me no bad; I just knew I had temperature but was far from feeling it.
Amidst my thoughts, my eyes wandered around and a while later finally fixed before me. I walked and walked knowing not where to go. All of a sudden my feet felt chained to the spot and resisted any further attempt of motion. At a distance I saw a silhouette under the influence of the street lamp. He was tall; with a very handsomely attractive muscular frame. But his back was towards me and a hood on his headpiece.
Above him the clouds cleared a bit and the moon; a full moon; emerged magnificently in the black inky night sky. I saw a drastic movement in him and soon realized he was actually moon dancing; exactly the way you saw Michael Jackson doing on your favorite songs. I stood their glued to the spot ogling at him; mesmerized by his flawless movements and grace filled reflexes. He suddenly added the hilarious monkey dance to it making me laugh my head back. Sadly, all this time, I could not see his face and the urge to see him paced inside me.
I started walking towards him; maybe wanting to compliment this crazy guy for his crazy dance in this crazy night. He was so engrossed in dancing that I think he did not realize my arrival at all. When he did really see me he was a little away from the lamp light's reach. The moon had vanished under the spell of the clouds again, and his face was hardly visible to me. He wasn't grooving anymore.
"You are a crazy dancer..." I said-laughed and I think he smiled.
"Thanks..."
His voice heavy and grave yet known, clicked. A moment of silence passed. I thought of saying good-bye and leaving as he seemed to have no plans of revealing his face. Yet proving me wrong he stepped forward and as soon as he was under the luminosity of the street lamp again I could not help but gasp.
"Shlokkk?"
I cracked aloud waking up. A startled Shlok woke up beside me.
" What?" He managed in his lethargic voice.
I scrunched, scrutinized and realized and then abruptly started laughing aloud like a maniac.
"Hun?"
He exclaimed totally confuzzled at my sudden outburst. Literally rolling over the bed I wasn't only startling him but annoying him too. Controlling my crack up I saw him reach out for my forehead and check the fever.
"Maybe your temperature has gone bad... I'll call the doctor..." He said getting up.
"I don't need a doctor...only water Shlok..." I spoke carefully avoiding the tickling feeling I had.
"Water?...umm okay..." He left for the kitchen. Seeing him leave reminded me of Shlok moon-dancing and I busted out laughing again. He must have heard it and rolled his eyes over too but who cares;for now I had nothing else in the world to do.
"Oh my great God!"
*0*
And for days I could not help grin like fools seeing him; much to his frustration.
At the doctors visit the next day. I was better with my temperature but not my cough and sour throat.
"Your cough is well today..." The doctor said.
I nodded but an annoyed shlok said,
"Of course she has been practicing all night..."
I rolled my eyes and the doctor smiled and slid his pen on the prescription.
"Take good care of your wife Mr Agnihotri." And he left.
Shlok went to see him off and came back with two cups of hot steaming tea, surprising me all the more. I took one as he offered and took in a smooth sip.
"You know how did Mr. Mehta die?" Shlok asked me sipping from his cup.
I shook my head.
"Someone poisoned his tea..."
He took in another sip and I spat the bit in my mouth and gawked at him horror-struck. Shlok suddenly cracked up.
"I just love that look Astha dear... no Mr. Mehta died by a poisoned tea... You don't expect me to make thing easier for you? or do you?"
He smirked playfully. I narrowed my eyes.
Side effects of aloos I suppose... these agony-hotris seem to have lost all sense of humor...once a moron always a moron...' I thought bitterly and tightened my grip on my cup. Taking in a huge sip I gaped at him all the time; I have no idea how the moon dance suddenly flashed in my mind and I could just not help not laughing. Poor Shlok thought I was laughing at his sick joke.
To this day I think that moon dance is one of the best thing that ever happened to me. Even though it was a dream only I could not help but imagine him doing it like that in the night. Oh poor Jackson...!
---The End---
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