Lack of self-care had turned him into a living corpse. The dusty curtains of his room blocked the natural light coming in. Unkempt beard and long hair were the signs of his depression. He looked into the mirror and heard the phrase, ‘persona non grata’ (someone who is not welcomed). He felt that about himself. He did not allow himself into his body. He was the curtain that did not allow any light to himself.

It had been days since he saw a human. So, he called Rashmila. She kept lonely, rich men busy. He wasn’t rich, but he was lonely. And she knew it. Rashmila found him gentle and giving. He tried to please her, too, which was not what Rashmila was used to. She knocked on his door, and he opened it for her.

He saw that her stockings were torn, and she wore the same Converse shoes. They were a bit muddy and shabby. She wore a purple vest with Mickey Mouse’s face on it. The bubbly smiling face of Mickey Mouse was about to see some grave sin. Her hair was messed up, too, and she had light makeup on. He didn’t like too much makeup anyway.

As per the routine, Rashimla stood near the bed, waiting to be thrown in. But he stood still, with his back pressed against the door. “Is this why you called me?” she asked, “To stare at each other in silence?”

“Why, you don’t like silence?” he asked. Rashimla always knew there was something weird about him. “You want me to seduce you? Or strip myself?” she asked.

“No, I don’t want that. I want contentment,” he replied. Most men entered a trance when they heard the word ‘seduce’ or ‘strip’. But he didn't budge. He had the same numbness in his eyes. “Listen, weirdo. If you want to moan about how dreadful life is, call your nerdy friends or see a therapist. Do not waste my time. Are we doing this or not?”

“My dad always used a similar tone to speak to me. This is familiar chaos. You cannot get me to do what you want with this voice,” he replied. She was taken aback. “What do you want, then? I don’t have much time,”

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

“Does that turn you on?”

He came close and put his arms around her. “No,” he replied. He hugged her tight as Rashmila’s hands hung in the air. She didn’t know what to do. He let out a small moaning sound in relief. Minutes passed, and they stood still. Rashmila felt drowsy. “Are we moving ahead from here?” she asked—irritated.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. It usually goes to bed from here,”
“Do you want to do that?” he asked.

“Do you want that?”

“I want some ice cream,” he replied.

He kept surprising her. They left his room and walked in silence for a while. They stopped in front of an ice cream vendor. “Please choose your flavour. I don’t really have a taste,” he said. She went ahead and ordered two chocolate chip ice creams. They sat on a nearby bench and finished the ice cream in silence. Rashmila sensed her time was done, so she got up to leave.

“Don’t go,” he said.

“Why? Do you want to hit the store later to check out cribs for our baby? I am not your wife, bro.”

“Just for tonight, don’t go. I will pay you for your time. Just exist with me, will you? You’re not doing any favours.” She took the strange deal. They walked back to his room. Rashmila sat on his bed and looked about. The room was messy, and the curtains were stained. A strange smell filled the four corners. She took out a cigarette and began smoking. He stood still and watched her. “You won’t slip me a pill and then choke me in my sleep, right?” she asked. He laughed.

“So, what do you do?” she asked. He pulled out a cigarette and began smoking. A smoke cloud covered his face as he stayed silent. He sat close to her and continued smoking. As soon as he rested his head on her shoulder, he began sobbing. Rashmila didn't think much of it. She had seen many strange men cry. As his sob turned into a cry, she held him. But she loosened the grip as the crying intensified. She walked away and stood near the window, and he cried himself to sleep.

Rashmila walked around the room, not knowing what to do. She thought about taking her money and leaving. As she reached for his purse, he said, “Can you hold me?” She sat close to him and held his hand, her gaze fixed on his face. He slowly opened his eyes, pulled her close, and kissed her dry lips. It wasn’t a passionate kiss nor a sign of intimacy. It was a way to fill the void—to somehow block out the pain of silence.

After lying in each other’s arms for a while, Rashmila asked if she could take a nap. He nodded. After ten minutes, he said, “Thank you for saving my life tonight. I have been planning my death for a while now. I am thinking of a perfect time and perfect date to do it. But lately, it has been very hard and I don’t think I have much time. My mother’s birthday is coming next week. I want to keep myself alive until then. If I hadn’t called you, I would have sealed the deal. If a person would stay with me, I wouldn’t dare to do so. So, thank you for saving me. I am giving you money to sit here and save my life. Technically, I paid to postpone death or atleast I bought a few more days.”

Silence followed. It felt like she was listening, so he kept going, “To answer your earlier question, I am a teacher. I write sometimes and spend my time at the library. My diet is coffee and cigarettes, and I have lost everything. I have lost battles. My life is like this because of my fate and my decisions. Some decisions I made were for me, and some against me. I am to blame for the most of it. I guess there wasn’t much fire in me to keep the stove burning. I heard that a man needs a ‘why’ in his life. I guess all I had was ‘how’. I was busy trying not to hate myself. I wish I were more demanding of myself. I wish I didn’t settle. My dad kept telling me I was a failure, and I believed him.”

He released a giant sigh, walked to the window, and pulled the curtains. Outside, he saw gentle drops of rain falling on the ground. He opened the window and took in the monsoon smell. People with umbrellas rushed here and there, and vehicles passed by with a commotion. He looked at the sky and found comfort in the fact that it was dark too. He smiled and pulled the curtains again.

The next morning, he woke up on the couch. His bed was empty, and Rashmila was gone. He walked to his nightstand to find that his wallet was empty. She had taken the money and left. Rashmila had no idea about his plans to end his life, as she had already fallen asleep when he thanked her for saving his life.