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 .