Friday, May 30, 2014

the unnecessary death of "rug weaving"

 “you know, your actions are consistent to either someone who’s madly in love or just simply insane” he said in his thick turkish accent.

his burly balmy hands in a tight grip around my jugular. the pressure slowly sinks into my carotid leaving a large impression on my slowly diminishing oxygen intake. my eyes bulged, almost dropping out of it sockets. the tower that makes my artery is merely seconds away from crumbling under his violent clutch. until he lets it go.

i was hanging upside down in mid air, 30 feet over river rapids in 12 degrees cold. tied taut around the ankles with not-so-industrial strength rope. my second assailant, the one with the creepy voice has a linoleum knife at the ready to cut the rope and eventually my life.

i pondered my predicament. the road that lead to this aftermath i am in. it started with a girl (like it always have). i first saw her in the throngs of the waiting crowd at the arrivals lounge of the airport. there she was in the midst of shouting turkish men arguing over taxi cab supremacy. it was easy to spot her with her brazen red hair. she stuck out like a full bloom rose amongst dying leaves. i was sure her eyes was locked on me, but i didn’t take notice at first.

i saw her again the following day. i was sitting at a cafe, enjoying my cup of cay with tiny ottoman crumpets. i only noticed the scent of rose hips and jojoba lingering in the air. when i turned my head, i caught a glimpse of the same brazen colour of red walking away into the crowd. without hesitation i made chase, but she was gone like how she appeared. i’m a believer of miracles, but i’m not a believer of coincidences. i came to the conclusion that she was following me. from then on, at every corner i turn, i waited for a few seconds hoping that she would bump into me. on the fourth day, she literally did.

the same scent of rose hips and jojoba stung my nostrils. it was overwhelming, even when my nose swam in her hair for a moment. she backed away in an instant and said sorry. she wanted to hurry off but i stopped her and told of my speculative deduction of what she’s been doing the past days. she looked surprised and was embarrassed when she told me it’s true. she said sorry again, and told me the truth. she was a writer, and she was randomly following strangers as research for her book. i asked her, why me? she said that it was probably fate. i found her answer beyond satisfactory.

she told me her name is tugce. it meant “flowers in heaven” in turkish. i then told her my name, and it meant “rug weaving” in old persian. she laughed. i didn’t mind. with our complimenting love for prose literature, it didn’t take us long to be deep in conversations. although she was shy at first, it only took a polar bear joke to break that ice. she showed me the sights and sounds of the city of deep grey and red. only after midnight did we realise we need to go back to our realities.

in my reality, i could only remember the greys of her iris. the only pool of grey i would gladly drown into. i have never been lost in such pools. i can only imagine the exhilaration of losing grip on things i cling unto too tight. i’m not in love but i cannot help it. at that time, i couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning and be at her door knocking on her heart, at my heart’s content. all i wanted to say to her was, “what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is yours”.

the whole week goes on like how all romantic stories do. resplendent of love and sweet things with hints of spices. but all storyline needs an antagonist. in this one, enter oztek. the be-leagued former lover and self professed possessor of her heart. oztek has a pleasant demeanour and presence. a guy’s guy, despite being an important man in the local crime organisation. known for his take no prisoners modus operandi. he cuts an imposing and dangerous block on my love affair. it was evident in his first words to me when i met him, “leave her alone”. he then left wagging his middle finger in the air at me. i didn’t bother to ask why. without an airtight reason, i still pursued my end. so to speak.

she has always been in the background of my time in the city of deep grey and red. now, she’s in the background in the city of my demise. she looks as amazing as first i met her, even when i’m upside down in mid-air. she was crying for my life. her red hair wildly thrashing in the unrelenting wind. if this was the last picture i would see before i go, i really don’t mind.

“don’t say i didn’t told you so,” oztek snickered with his turkish accent still present.

it snapped me back into reality. i threw up in my mouth a little seeing his mug. his facial expression; smug. with a revolver in his hand. which i still think that it is bit of an overkill when you’re still dropping me into the river after. i’ll never get the answer to that because that’s when he fired the shot that pierced my sternum. i closed my eyes, and could only hear tugce’s piercing scream of “no” in the air. at that moment, i couldn’t decide which pierced the worst, the bullet or her resounding “no”. after that, the last thing i felt was my body falling into the river and the deep cold. when i was drowning in the icy unforgiving waters, i didn’t hold my breath and it wasn’t because i forgot to.

i died that night. a death utterly unnecessary, on so many levels. maybe you could say, for love. but for me, love was unnecessary at that moment and i wasn’t in love. but, i have no regrets. as of now i’m writing from the afterlife. i have not much complaints here. the horizon here is bleak but it still cuts my eyes where it did when i was alive. i could use a little bit more light here though, it’s really hard to write under these unfluorescent lights. i tried to bargain with my handler, the one in red with a pitchfork as a walking cane. unsurprisingly to no avail. also there’s so many doors to go through here. it’s tiring and annoying at the same time. all in all, all i could say is, kafka was right.


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