part 2 - the son's boyfriend

chapter 3

what do you do when the one you love lies broken and macerated , you fight , you fight for every ounce of hope that might sustain him , you fight until every part of you is so exhausted that you dont feel the pain anymore , but what do you do when he wakes up and looks at you  and then again goes back into that dreaded unconsciousness....well you wait...you wait until he comes back again and may be this one time you might have certain answers...this time you might have figured out some words to apologise because you were responsible for his condition in the first place...

and this doesnt apply to mothers...its applicable only to boyfriends...vikram realised it when vikas came  out of shock , momentarily though , opened his eyes , mumbled something incomprehensible and then drifted again . it was so much easier for bobby. she hugged him , cried her heart apart , said all kinds of things and felt so relieved. somehow mothers are so immune from guilt.

it was so much easier for him when vikas was unconscious. but now he feared it , like he might wake up any moment and look into his eyes and ask him questions he might not have answers for. he didnt have the courage to look at him . to face him. so he stood outside his room , heard bobby wailing , the doctors diiscussing and then telling her that vikas was almost ut of danger. he wanted to be happy , to hold him and cry , yet it was hard. 

there were so many moments when he lamost wanted to run away and so many more when he almost went up to the door. but everytime he couldnt bring himself to enter it. somehow bobby's presence and of the people around him made it all the more difficult , as if they would all join him into a riot of accusations.

it was almost evening. bobby had conjured a lot of things. now that vikas might wake up any moment , she wanted to surround him with things he loved , he cherished , clothes , books , perfumes , even towels of his choice. 

'' you know he really doesnt like that jumper....you should have brought the green sweat shirt...he loves that...'' vikram told bobby...

'' which one...oh this!! he looks so wierd in it...look at this brown jumper...it was always his favourite..i knitted it with my own hands...see the rabbit i had made for him on that'' she showed him the brown woolen jumper , the kinds that kids wear , with a bunny smiling at it in gaudy white ..

'' you know he....he liked it when he was a kid...loved it because u used to make it for him...but he doesnt like it anymore...and he never told you that because he didnt want to.....you know...hurt your feelings'' he told he , hesitantly.

she didnt know what to say. to fight it out with her maternal instincts or accept the truth that he seemed to be saying. when you are in situations like this , even choosing a jumper can be a war...but she decided truce was better...so she took the jumper with her and just before leaving she told vikram '' there's a lot i dont know about my vikki....i'd like to know him...i'd like to know how you guys met? lemme just get the coffee..''

the son's boyfriend

a part of her wanted to hold him and cry , another part wanted to hit him , yet she resorted to silence. pummy had gone , and he was the only one standing next to her , day and night , tending to her son's needs , tirelessly. they had both worked it out clearly. exchange of words wasnt a necessity , and in a lot of ways was a better option.

yet everytime they both were present in the same room , it stifled them , because both were ridden with guilt and both loved the same person , although differently. in a very inexplicable manner it felt like they were competing , like they were adversories , fighting out for his love.yet they were together , bonded by the awkwardness of this strange time. but then who said love isnt strange.

a week had passed after vikas's shattered spleen was removed , his skull drilled to evacuate the life threatening hematoma , and his vitals restored with machines. he had survived. and the ventillator had been removed too. he was breathing spontaneously. for a brief moment vikram and bobby had hugged. vikram had run out in the hospital lawns , crying his tears of happiness , even though the ordeal was far from over. 

one afternoon when she entered the room , she saw vikram dozing off on the couch , he looked serene. even amidst her situation pummy couldnt help but notice , as to how handsome his face was , with a child like innocence. it was cold afternoon , she wanted to cover him up with a blanket. and so  she did and sat quietly on the chair. but in another split moment , she rose up and removed the blanket. she felt a sudden relief in doing so. she obtained a certain vile satisfaction in waking him up , the kind a notorious child derives at wrecking something baeutiful created by someone else.

she couldnt be nice to someone who was responsible for her son's condition , some one perverted who had done all sorts of wrong things to him , she couldnt bring herself to see kindness in that human being.

everything was bizzare. vikas was still unconscious. every thing that involved vikram seemed tedious. a simple sponge bath for vikas , in his presence , to her seemed violation of her son's body , yet when it came to clear his soiled clothes , change his inners and for that matter clean his genitals , no one did it with as much care or daftness as vikram did. she didnt know if to stop him or let him do that. she was against it , she was trying hard to put up a blind eye to what was so clearly evident , that vikam loved vikas , yet nothing would let her accept it. the more shedenied , the more aggressively she fought , the worse was her behaviour , sullen face , caustic remarks , things she didnt want to say , but her bitterness wouldnt contain them and they would come out.

but vikram took it all silently. he didnt retort . he didnt answer back. he kept quiet most of the times. at times she would find him staring at vikas , ceaselessly , holding his hand , crying , and the she would intervene , deprive him of that crying too. yet vikram wouldnt hit back , he would silently leave. 

he just had one thought , and that thought was vikas.

the son's bf..part 1

what do you do when u stand at threshhold of an imposing consequence that seems to have arisen from your own treason with your own heart , an act of cowardice , trivial in the beginning , but now threatens the sheer denomination of your virtuous sanctity.

vikram felt the same way , when he stood at the threshold of vikas's appartment. it was the third floor. dusk was descending and merging with an early winter night. unusually cold , and windy. he had opened the lock , he knew how to manuever the damn thing. rusted stupid, old fashioned lock which vikas so cherished. but this time it had been so difficult. with every click vikram's heart was shearing apart and it wanted to explode when he opened the door.

it was dark. ke knew where the switches were. yet the dark seemed an easy escape. he was afraid, of what horrors the light might show. the lingering presence of vikas's candles , his perfumes , his room spray were all around. vikram could identify all and each had a different meaning , a different memory.

the room showed nothing abrupt. vikram didnt know if it soothed him or vexated him that there was such perfect order in the room. he had expected a total mess. cigaretter stubbs , ash, empty bottle of alcohol, ditry clothes , soiled bed sheets. the stench of urine, dust and what not. he had expected shreds of broken glass , upturned furniture and notes of vikas's grief.

he found none. yet it occured like serene white walls were smeared with blood , like the room was filled with his sobs. vikram stood shivering , only when he entered the balcony , he noticed something. a half empty bottle of smirn off , apple twist , a slender wine glass , and a black satin robe.

vikram sat down upon the cane arm chair. undressed and got into the robes , filled himself some vodka and sipped it. the robe felt like vikas , his body , his smell . vikram sat still , tears running down his cheeks , wind blowing in his handsome face, blowing his hair , the night had finally arrived and moon was hidden beneath the clouds.

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he was suddenly woken up by the rumble in the house. the sun was shinning upon him and had blinded him for a few seconds. the stood up and found bobby staring at him . the robe was hardly covering his bare essentials , exposing his chest and a leg. he fumbled to cover himself up.

'' what are you doing here ? '' bobby asked him , trying not to shout , containing her anger and her hatred. 

'' i...nothing... i mean i had his key...and thought i'd go check the aapartment...'' vikram said and added '' lemme just go , get dressed '' 

he picked his clothes and shot out towards the bathroom. 

bobby had already cleaned the living room and the kitchen. to her surprise things were in order. hardly any dust. no laundry to do. no half eaten food or unwashed utensils. vikas was never like that , she thought. she was relieved to see the refridgerator. it was well stocked. her son was eating well , it in some way gave her a little relief. she was yet to go to his room.

vikram came out . 

'' you could have gone to the common bath-room...i could have cleaned his room. why did u go to my son's bathroom.. its personal...dont you know...or do you just get into anyone's house and then to their bedrooms and their bathrooms too '' she admonished him.

'' and give me that robe...thats my vikki's... you wore it and that too totally naked.. no shame , you have.. i dont know what kind of upbringing you've had. first you cast magic on my son , yu do all kind of bad things to him , you even wear his clothes ''

'' and now he's in such state because of you... please leave us alone...'' she was not shouting any more. it seemed as if she was talking to herself.

''aunty...sorry..mrs. kapoor.. i dont want to get into argument with you. i am sorry for wearing his clothes and there isnt much cleaning to do in his room anyways..and his bathroom that i used...anyways..nevermind...here are the keys and i'll just leave now '' he gave her the keys and was just about to leave when her cell phone rang.

''hello...haan pummy..ki hoya..ki...vikki nu''

''rab...mera baccha. iam coming..''

bobby was hysterical and crying uncontrollably.

' what happened to vikas...tell me...'' he shook her and asked her.

'' i dont know...pummy just asked me to come immediately...something wrong has happened to my vikki...rab!! pls save my child...baba ji bacha lo mere bacche ko...'' bobby was praying ceaselessly through her tears.

vikram took her by hand..and put her in his car.. he drove like mad men. through the highways of delhi , under the metro , criss crossing the DELHI METRO barricades. he broke several rules, crossed so many lights.

when they reached hospital , to their relief they found vikas was stable now. he had an arrythmia , which doctors explained was that his heart was beating chaotically . but they had managed to stablise him. bobby fell into pummy's arms , crying. 

vikram sat down , exhausted and relieved. they all sat silently for a long time , watching vikas. he got them coffee and some food in between. the sun was almost about to set. vikram knew he had to leave. he was stopped in the hall way by bobby.

'' thank you '' she said.

'' its ok ''...he replied

'' listen...i'll ......'' she was about to say something when vikram cut her short

'' i know you hate me and you have all the reasons.... but please take care of him.. you wont see me around him or his appartment from tomorrow'' he said.

'' bye mrs. kapoor '' he turned back.

'' vikram '' she called him. 

'' i was just about to say that please take this key and bring some of his clothes tomorrow... i am alone and i cant manage everything on my own.. '' she handed him the keys.

he took them and they both stood looking at each other in a silent understanding.

'' so i'll see you tomorrow'' she said and went back to vikas.

the son's boyfriend...continues

at times we think of death, about its inglorious permanance, and then the hetherto for taken granted breath , becomes conspicous. we donot measure our life in the breaths we take. there are more important things.

yet for vikram , vikas's life was just a succession of breaths the ventillator was pushing in his battered body. the familiar monotone that the machines were making and to which vikram had got accustomed to, was suddenly interrupted.

what stood apart clearly in that commotion was a lady, short and plump, haplessly crying and cursing the god . apparantely some body had taken her to the morgue to show the dead body of her deceased son. but when the cover was removed , it was someone more unfortunate. bobby had created a ruckus and the hospital authorities seemed helpless at her onslaught.

bobby was enraged and vikram's face had fuelled her anger to an all together different level. ' what are you doing here...what is he doing here...stay away from son... you perverted creep..' she had yelled though the hospital corridor. she stopped charging only at the sight that ripped apart her heart. her only son fighting for his life. the tears were far to less and her voice far too meagre , the grief far too heavy, she sank into it, oblivious, and numb.

hours had passed, bobby had stopped sobbing. she had faced time bravely and she would not let it defeat her this time.she walked over to vikram, who had silently resigned to a chair. ' thanks a lot...they told me what you did for vikas..but i have come now...so you can leave..i'll manage now'

' but...i'd like to ' 

' not necessary...we dont need outsider's help...you have already done enough.' she told him.

' i will not leave... i know you are his mother. and you have your reasons to hate me. but right now this isnt about you or me...its about him.... so let me be around..' his sincerity almost softened her..but she regained her composure and charged again ' he's here because of you. i thought you were friends. but you turned my son gay. my poor little vikki. such  obedient and nice boy. and look what has happened to him..''

there was not much vikram could do.

'' i wont stay in the room...but i'll be around and you cant stop from doing that..and for your information you owe as much responsibility to his being here as i do.''

what was bobby so oblivious to , was very clear to Vikram.

The cops had searched Vikas's room. and they had found nothing. no signs of struggle , no signs , no notes. an empty bottle of romanov and they concluded it was an accident. 

Vilkram reached his aaprtment. washed and changed, and tried to sleep , but he couldnt. he searched for it , and found the key to vikas's appartment he still had. he wanted to go to his appartent and for some inexplicable reasons wanted to find evidence contrary to what he was thinking. he wanted to tell himself that the cops were right, but he knew deep within , that turmoil which had drove vikas to this state was his own genesis , partly if not in entirety.

that night was still playing hide seek with his sanity. the night when he had broken up with vikas. he had wanted to do it peacefully , amicably..like so many break ups he had gone through. the master of the art of break ups. vikram singhania , the one who ruled the queer circles of delhi , the one who had it all . 

yet this one was difficult in ways he had never imagined. the words simply became supeflous when he saw vikas that night. just at the moment when he plainly , cold heartedly looked into his eyes and pronounced it, he realised the intensity of  his own love. and he turned away, with just one last glimpse of that frail boy, he wanted to capture his image to an eternity in his eyes. yet all that remained were his last words.

'' i can die without your love...you've made it very simple''

the son's boyfriend chapter 2

Two cops were standing with vikram. it was a very cold place. something about the room was very morbid, it spoke of death in an eerie silence. the steel tables and white walls added to the excruciating misery that lay in the corpse that were positioned on those cold, steel tables. 

vikram had to identify if the one he was standing next to was of vikas. surprisingly he felt emotionless. like he knew he was supposed to cry at this moment but he didnt feel the need to. slowly he raised the white sheet that had managed to hide the face he somehow wished was that of vikas. again he felt strange. why would he want it to happen. and then to his shock he saw that pale naked body. brutally smashed head. yet eyes closed , and serene face as if in sleep. it was vikas.

so he had finally died. like vikram expected it. knew it. he turned his back without even feeling a twitch in his body, but was stopped by a certain unmistable voice, the one of vishal. to his surprise it was vishal, sitting with his pulverised skull, and whatever it was said to him , ' you could have saved me, but i forgive you '. and it moved towrads vikran to hug him, but vikram was scared and he started to run. but wherever he went he saw that body with wide arms and a grin. he felt like he'll explode any moment and something within him was tearing  apart.........but he was woken up by the nurse who came to monitor the VISHAL.

it was 9;00 AM. almost 2 days had passed since that wretched phone call. after that there were just flashes that remained in his head. of vikas lying on the stretcher covered in blood, of ambulance, and hospital, and blood.... of tubes that were forced into vikas's body , of doctors and nurses and more blood.....of the sound of the machines that showed he was still alive and of the operation theatre, the white walls and blood again..

and now when the curtains of the room were pulled and sun came in violating the darkness, vikram saw vishal, unconscious. doctors had said he was alive but his brain had suffered damages. he was unconscious and likely to remain so for sometime. tubes were intruding every possible site. the fixators were keeping his bones in place and bandages were covering his wounds. but atleast he was alive. 

 

my son's boyfriend. part 1 chapter 1

some appartment - new delhi 2 :00 AM 

It was december . he stood in his balcony, braving the cold, stark naked.  lean and fair. with traces of hair on his chest. he was 21 years old but looked no more than 17. almond brown eyes and black silky hair , handsome face that almost defied the child like cuteness of his features. natural strong arms, and fine long fingers. yet in that night , there was something unusual about him. he looked pale , almost white , resembling the moon that was shinning upon him, almost like someone about to perform a satanic rite.

for one final moment he closed his eyes. silence that brings life to a screaching halt begins to fade only when the past starts to gnaw upon. he was falling prey to the flawless poison our memories are. they soak you, drench you and then paralyse you. waves after waves of those memories were hitting him, and the tempest within him was brewing. it felt like he was falling deeper and deeper into an abyss. and when the notes of the music that was playing along rose to the final crescendo, he plunged deep down into the drakness, several meters down.

he remembered his brown hair, sweet breath and just befor he could remember his touch, he had hit the concrete.

later when they would see his room, they would find it in perfect order, not even a speck of dust, books arranged, no wrinkles on bedsheet, no left over food, polished floor and no note. vikas was not known for cleanliness and order. yet that was the only sign of anguish he had wanted to leave upon the world.

and even later he would realise that this was not the answer to the question that drove him to this point. yes he would survive the fall, another gay guy would not die of an attempted suicide

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kapoor's residence , chandigarh

pummy had just left. bobby was sitting alone by herself in her over decorated living room, careful not to put her feet on the sofa. her sister was the only one she could have talked about this to. after all blood relations are blood relations and no one would feel her pain more than her, she had thought.

" tussi vi na, bobby didi, inni tension na leya karo. sab theek ho jana hai. we'll get our vikki married to a nice punjabi kudi and then she will charm him away from that prick " she had said and procured a stack of photographs , showing girls photoshopped , all punabi girls. some from canada and usa too.

pummy had served her some fried chicken. only food seemed to provide her some solace, and so she indulged in it heavily. her vikki was not like that. such an obidient boy he was . "that scoundrel, i dont know what all unimaginable things did he do with my poor son" she had burst out crying.

his words were still resounding in her ears, his arguments pierced her like shards of glass. she had threatened him to disown him and never to talk to him again. and he had left the house and gone to delhi. she had been trying to call him from two days but he never replied.

the call finally came and it was the least of what she had expected.

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SINGHANIA HOUSE- GK1 , NEW DELHI

it had been two days. vikram had not slept well. he looked unruly, unshaven and groogy  but even that coulnt hide his excruciating handsomeness. 6 feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes, chiselled features and crafted body, every muscle visible. everything about this man was posh and high. adonis personified and an angry zeus, unusually irritated.  most servants had not dared to even knock at his door. his parents like ever were helpless. not even vodka seemed to help him. ash was scattered all around and cigarette butts infested his bedroom like insects. 

he didnt know if he had done the right thing by abandoning vikas, but he knew that it had to be done. vikas had to take his independent decision. he missed him terribly , much more than he ever thought he would. even more difficult was to dial one number on his blackberry and talk to him.

"damn this fucking technology" he reviled. "why is it so easy to call a number and talk " he damned the modern civiliasation but his bitterness was directed at his own inaptitude to sustain the separation. breaking up was simpler, and the suffering was simpler still and that was cruel.

 when at that freakiest god forsaken hour, his cell phone buzzed, he dreaded if it was vikas, yet he plunged upon it, inwardly hoping it to be him.

it was about him and it was dreadful .