When Strangers Meet: 3 in 1 Box Set by John Harker & K. Hari Kumar

Author:John Harker & K. Hari Kumar [Harker, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EBOOK4IN.BLOGSPOT.COM
Published: 2013-11-20T18:30:00+00:00

Twenty Six

That night I went back to the railway station after drinking some local rum. I was totally out of my mind. Somehow, I managed to daggle to the last bench that lay on platform number 1. I was so drunk that I was not able to feel my body and surrendered unto unconsciousness.

I dropped myself on the bench, hit my lips hard on the surface of the bench and that’s all I could remember.

Twenty Seven

The next day

Madras

The next day, I woke up to find myself inside a police lock-up. Apparently, I had broken some laws but I did not remember which ones. I opened my eyes to dizziness. It was definitely a hangover. I had never tasted alcohol in my life before, so it was the first time. They say that the first time is always memorable. I wished I could not remember mine and in fact, I could not. One of the constables walked toward the cell where they had locked me up, he locked his eyes on me and asked, ‘Had a goodnight’s sleep?’

I could not move, I thought somebody had cut off my limbs. There was shear pain in the region around my abdomen. I looked at my abdominal region and that is when I realized that they had stripped me off my clothes. I was sitting there naked, not a pinstripe of loincloth over my feeble genital. I was shocked, I somehow managed to move my hands and cover my genital with them. My eyes filled with tears again, and I shouted, ‘What the hell have you done to me? Ahhhh…’ My lips hurt as I spoke; I felt saltiness in my saliva. I touched my lower lip with the index finger of my left hand while the right hand tightly censored out my pubic region. I saw blood on my finger, my lip had broken, that is when I remembered the moment I had fallen unconscious. I had hit my lip on the bench.

The constable unlocked the door and opened my cell. He was carrying a pair of torn trousers and dusty shirt. He threw them inside the cell. He said, ‘Dress up without uttering a word.’ He commanded. The man was almost the age of my father, around 52. He had thick moustache and his thick dark skin piled up on a very thinly constituted body. I quickly picked up my clothes and wore them. It smelled like vomit. I wanted to throw up, but I was scared to do so. I covered my nose. It took me more than ten minutes to wear my clothes; I could not move my right elbow or my hip without supporting myself against the wall. Maybe they had beaten me up last night while I was unconscious, just like that, for fun. The constable called me.

I stood up, shakily, started moving. Luckily the door was open; I did not have to apply any effort there. I felt so powerless. As I walked, I felt my entire back hurt.

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