Cockroach

After a long, long day, I said to myself, “At least I wouldn’t have to deal with the evening traffic”. It was close to midnight and as true as it was, it made no difference. A quarter of the way home, it started to pour. And pour it did, with a vow to not let up. I had to.

Drenched in rain and vexation, feeling cold, I parked my bike by the side of the empty road near a tea shop. Though I take the same route every day, I hadn’t noticed the place before then. Under the poor lighting of the lampposts, the street was barely visible. With most of the shops closed and homes turned in, I guess I had some sort of luck that the tea shop was open, and just lit enough for me to find shelter.

 

At the entrance, stood a young couple, wet and laughing, trying to push the other out into the road. I pushed in between them to get into the tiny shop. The beverage side of the counter was closed. So, I settled for a cigarette. There were two stools, opposite the counter, of which one was occupied by a man dressed similarly to me, elbows resting on his thighs, shoulders slumped forward, head hanging down, eyes dead as the night, smoking probably his second, maybe third cigarette. 

 

I picked up the lighter hanging from the counter, lit my smoke, and took my place beside the couple near the entrance. As I took my first puffs, I looked for signs of the rain slowing down. On any other night, I would have found the petrichor enjoyable, but not that day. It was quite unpleasant. I couldn’t see the rain come down in the darkness, but the pitter-patter against the concrete clearly said otherwise. I was stuck there for a while.

 

The couple next to me was giggling and fooling around, which irritated me. They were probably fresh out of college and having fun, not knowing what was awaiting them in the near future. Adulthood was going to grind them to bitter dust. But despite the annoying behaviour, I did find the look on the boy’s face, especially his wonderous eyes, fascinating. It was one of pure, unadulterated love that isolated you from the rest of the world because that one person was the world to you. Long, long ago, I too used to have that look. 

 

The road was lit for a second by the headlamps of a car that sped past us, sending a wave of water on us. While I was angry, the couple found it hilarious. I had no hope for them. I stared into the darkness and listened for the rain to ease up. As I blew white smoke against the black background, I thought about my day.

 

My wife had gotten up late and even though I suggested buying lunch, she insisted on packing it. I was late to a meeting and was, out of the blue, made answerable to a major client. Of course, I couldn’t answer and was made the scapegoat. This happened all the time, but not just to me. After the call, I went through every file, email, and plan, and guess what? It didn’t concern me. I reached out to my boss to figure things out, but from bad to worse was what transpired.

 

“Are you a fool?” my boss asked me. “You should’ve cleared things out with the client in the call. Or at least figured something out with those involved. How long have you been here?”

 

I just stayed silent. 

 

“Answer me. How long have you been here?” she repeated.

 

My head was blank. With proof of no fault of my own, I expected to be vindicated. But I was being chastised and I felt like I deserved it. Just for being where I was. What I am. 

 

“Sorry, mam” I managed to say.

 

“I don’t want your sorry. Get this sorted out today itself and update the client. I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

 

Before I could reply, she hung up. 

“That bloody bit–” 

 

My thoughts were interrupted by my wife calling me on my phone. 

 

“Where are you?” she said, “It’s raining pretty heavily.”

 

“I am waiting by the side of the road. Don’t know how long it would take. You eat and go to bed” I said.

“I’ll wait.”

 

“Why? To get up late and make me some substandard food that is guaranteed to ruin my day?”

 

“Was the food not good?”

 

“No, it was great! I am still licking my fingers.”

 

“You don’t have to be sni– Eeek!”

 

“Ann, what happened?”

 

“The power’s gone.”

 

“Great! One more reason to not come home.”

 

After a moment of silence, she said, “Do as you please.”

 

For the second time in the day, before I could reply, she hung up on me. “Bitch”, I remarked. The couple was still at it, completely unaware of my little outburst. “While you can”, I thought to myself.

I turned back in and asked the man behind the counter for another cigarette. He was bald through the middle, and the little hair he had on the sides was streaked in grey. His scruffy mustache was pointed at the ends, and his stubble hid the lines on his face. “Cigarette”, I said again, a little louder, but he still didn’t catch me as his animated eyes moved up and down the girl’s behind. Her wet clothes clung tightly to her body and left very little to the imagination. I banged the counter with my palm and got his attention.

 

“Ci-ga-rette”, I said in a deep voice. For a second, he looked back at the girl and then turned back again to fetch me my cigarette. As he handed it to me, I could almost hear his thoughts. “Something is wrong with him.” Or “He must be gay.” Or “He is impotent.” 

 

I took the seat on the unoccupied stool next to the man who looked weirdly like me, but older. He was definitely older than me but could have been forty or sixty. Old and tired, smoking his fourth or fifth cigarette. 

 

I lit my second cigarette with the first and was about to snuff it under my foot when a cockroach wandered next to it. I lifted my foot a little higher, ready to stomp down and flatten it. As I brought my shoe down, the shadow of my foot fell over it, shrouding it in the dark but it did not move. It simply stood there dangling its antennas. I moved my foot away and observed it in the dull, flickering glow of the shop bulb. It was probably looking for the warmth from my discarded cigarette. 

 

Before I left the office, I had gotten to know that my boss was at the hospital the entire day. Her father had suffered a massive heart attack and was fighting for his dear life. I regretted having thought to myself of her as a bitch. How did it come to that? When did I stop trying? Poor Ann! She was afraid of the dark. I wondered how she was holding up. 

 

I was distraught. The cigarette had burned out and the cockroach moved on in search of the next one. Down came a shoe, squishing it into a patch of goo. I slowly looked up and met eyes with the man next to me. Eyes dead as the blackest night. I felt a knot in my stomach. 

“We are leaving. Thank you, uncle” said the girl to the man behind the counter, smiling and waving goodbye. The man waved back reluctantly. His stubble couldn’t hide his shame. Holding hands, the couple left. “Hope they make it”, I said to myself, as I paid for the cigarettes.

 

It was still drizzling, but nothing I couldn’t ride through. Before I got on my bike, I called Ann. She picked up on the first ring. 

 

“Have you eaten?”, I asked.

 

“No”, she said.

 

“I am on my way. Let’s eat together.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You don’t want me to come? All of a sudden not afraid of the dark?”

 

“You very well know how scared I am of the dark and you hang up on me!”

 

“It was you who hung up.”

 

“You made me do it.”

 

“Okay. I’m sorry. Why don’t I keep you company on the phone until I reach home?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, I have a story to tell you. I have had a revelation. We may not realize but we might be insects.”

 

“What’s gotten into you?” she said amused. “Are you drunk?”

 

The rest of the way home I tried convincing her that I wasn’t drunk. She didn’t believe me. But we did have a good long, long dinner.