The view from the window captivated me no more. She had moved in her sleep. The soiled sheet covering her naked form shifted to expose her perky breasts. "It's definitely cold in here", I thought, studying them. She lay like an angel with cherubic cheeks. Side-parted curly hair had been disturbed through the night and it now slept beside her with equal abandon. Sunlight was the missing man in the otherwise almost perfect picture.
But the sun never shone on "Shangri La", where men came to satiate a small part of their endless desires. Those who had none to partner with and those who were afraid of sharing love with their partners equally frequented "Shangri La".
She was just one among the girls. Emotionless beings who absorbed emotions from their customers. Positive terminal to negative terminal. Emotional to the emotionless.
As I saw her lying upon the bed decorated by the flowers in her hair which were crushed by our vigorous love, my emotions began to slowly rise once again.
She stirred in her sleep once again, involuntarily licking her dry lips to supply them with moisture. Her innocence beamed through. I watched her silently and reminisced about the time when I first met her, at the lower floors of that very building.
"Madam", the cliched epithet that attached itself to the owner of Shangri La, had paraded her best girls in front of me and my friends. Scared though I was, this being my first time in such an environment, excitement also bustled about within me. My eyes scanned their faces, looking for something to connect with. As I eliminated one after the other on the basis of simple parameters, my eyes stopped on one face.
Shyness. That was what attracted me to her. Over time, I was to learn that it was her biggest strength. Presenting herself as 'new' and 'fresh' brought in more customers for her and many more envious glares from her co-workers.
It was the proof of commercialisation affecting the oldest profession in the world. Whores having to compete against one another for clientele, having to advertise themselves more.
The sound of her anklets brought me back from my memories. She had woken and was sitting up on the bed.
"Neend nahin aayi, Sahib?", she asked, as naughty smile being born at the corners of her mouth and maturing all over her face.
"Chai piyoge?"
"Jaan, tum pilaogi tho kuch bhi pee loonga."
"Chal hat, natkhat", she laughed.
Tying her hair in a knot and wrapping herself in the crumpled saree, she left the room announcing her departure with the fading sound of anklets.
Then the usual. Placing the money on the dresser table and leaving before she arrived with tea. As usual. For the love had ended for the day. But just for me. She had to go on. Faking love for one more night with someone else.
Copyright 2007 Sudheesh Satheeshkumar
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