Reflections and obsessions

A hurried step landed on the puddle and pattered away into the hubbub of the bustling streets with a premonition of busy day. A frivolous splash of water and a few boot-prints left on the pavements. Daily trivialities that peddlers don’t pay heed to. But someone did. Silas was gazing into the puddle brimming with murky water. Teeth sprouting from a leviathan hollow with an ochre layer. Time and neglect have taken away quite a few of them. Beads of saliva hung from the rugged lips for what seems like an eternity. Unruly beards have revolted against the oblivious face with a greyish moustache as their leader. A pair of bulging, nonchalant eyes though shone with a dull, obsessive gleam. They gave a cursory glance now and then to the urbane pantomime through the maze of bushy hair invading his forehead like the victorious Huns. A sight no one prefers, except Silas.

Since his innocent days in the slums, Silas was a stooge to the other boys. He spent his carefree days by solitary strolls along the walls of the playground, kicking pebbles around and staring at the other boys while they rent asunder the silent summer afternoons with their cheerful voices. He often tried to sketch on the walls with his long, sharp nails, until one day a boy broke his index finger while torturing him for the sadistic pleasure of others.

Bestial he may be, but Silas too grew up like every other animal. Puberty came to him without much ado. But the winds of change left very few things ruffled. One day, following his contemporaries in the slum, he had dared to enter a pleasure-house. They trade a few hours’ company and pleasure with handsome amount of money, he had heard. But when the whore, appointed by the local pimp, saw the gruesome face that she had to kiss, screamed maniacally and run away, leaving George Washington in the 100 dollar bill in Silas’s hand as his only company for what was going to be a long night. But he existed- in the rear-view mirrors of empty taxis waiting in long queues before the driver noticed, in the puddles of water until some busy passer-by marred his idle obsession.

Silas leaned back on the blue railings with chunks of rust surfacing here and there. He ran his fingers down the railings until his fingertips felt a warm uneasiness spreading through them. It was about time. He looked up expectantly like a stray dog. The backdoor of the restaurant opened as a man hastily came towards him with a bag and dropped it near him splattering the pavement with a little of yesterday’s leftovers, careful not to get too close to this vile animal.

He lunged onto it like a wolf and a pair of hungry eyes lit up in an instant. He looked under the filthy, slimy piece of cloth he rested his buttocks on. A surprisingly clean plate of stainless steel appeared out of thin air into his tight, cautious grasp. He was going to eat now.

But the leftover was emptied on the concrete as Silas ate like a hungry tiger preying upon a cadaver. Once he was finished, he rubbed his hands against his loincloths vigorously. Then, he took up the plate and held it in front of him. A pair of content eyes were looking at a grotesque face like a possessed soul.