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''