The man behind the curtain:Part 1

Part one.

"Are you there?" 

"yes" he replied curtly. 

"should i be worried? " i asked gallantly. 

No reply, 

Silence enveloped the placid atmosphere. 

I have been meeting a man for 3 years now. He is always in a gloomy, deserted room behind the large curtain which divides the room in two halves, most probably equal because I just feel he is well choreographed person.  The room is so dark,  i can't even see the color of the curtain,so, i guessed it had to be  black matching the darkness of the room.  

On the other side he must be sitting quietly on a chair, like the one on which i am resting. He must be a big man, well built,probably wearing dark, well fitted suit like the one by 007. Short hair, shaved face and with observant eyes.

I have never seen him nor have i had the  privilege of knowing his name. So, i named him "The man behind the curtain" just  for my sake,  offering simplicity. 

Still, i can feel his invasive gaze upon me, in the darkness. What would he do if i got completely naked and start dancing? 

When he talks, 

his responses are so abrupt, sometimes i have to think thrice to comprehend. 

"visit room number 6 of the 'place' after 2 days sharp at 9 pm. "  he said in stubby tone.  

His ordinance was enough to stagger me if i was standing or leaning on the wall which i do most of the time. 

I left the uninviting room when he fell silent for complete 3 minutes. This was the sign, just like the one in medieval ages, when a commoner knows it's time for him to depart the court of crimson kings. 

I unlocked the door which welcomed a long dark passage, then i  took a right turn and climbed the staircase with exactly 12 stairs. 

Another door. 

I always find doors Creepy, not only of this poorly built building, but every door out there in this well engineered earth. Why? Only god knows! There a things I can't explain to you.I guess its called baggage,sort of.Everyone has baggage which they can never explain. Doors are mine. What's yours?  

The ominous silence of the room took a part of my conscience this time, although i have been a regular passenger of this desolate train,  this time i felt contemptuous and totally dismayed. 

He said "place", what place is he referring to? Some sort of a code? If yes, 

he wants me to decipher it? but this is so not his style. 

What is he doing then ? Most importantly, what is he trying to convey? 

In the period of 3 years,  we met 12 times, 4 times a year,  exactly for 3 minutes excluding the silence. He gave me jobs, i went to those flagged 'places',  carried out the devised  task and got rewarded. 

The reward arrives exactly a week later. My clients are filthy rich and i serve them graciously. Who are my clients? Do you know what  "ignorance and apathy " means? If yes, you have my answer. 

The routine of two unknowns-the man behind the curtain and mine.  

This time something is different, i feel i am irretrievably lost in the dungeon of penance. Did i do something wrong? 

The door at the end of staircase led to the another  passage of the ground floor in the building. I unlocked  the door situated in the west most corner of the passage  serving as the  end  to his labyrinth - labyrinth of "The man behind the curtain." I am free for now.  

Standing on a busy street i always watch people passing by, i find them funny,  especially their curious acts, don't know why,  but I find them so funny.

I have to wait here for exact 15 minutes,watching people sagaciously.

15 minutes, time when i wade through my own implacable mind, trying  to placate,  just like a soldier trying to calm herself after seeing his friends brain blown  by a 7.62*39 mm

Kalashnikov bullet in war-worthless act of human mind.

Can you calm yourself down in the scene of war? 

All sorts of people are  there in the streets and all of them are funny if you know where to look. For example, a kid walking with the burden of 8 books and 16 copies in his bag, keeps on leaning forward pulling straps mounted on his bag  to  maximum  possible length,  so that he can reduce the effect of gravity, at least for his conscience, it works. Poor soul, he looks like a frog in the  verse of jumping, two legs up in the air and two on the ground. Jump, jump my little frog make me laugh. 

A man with thinning problem(one in verse of going bald, just trying to be polite) fervently observes everyone around him. If he sees one with severe thinning problem than his,  he gives himself a pat on his left thigh and smiles with derision. And when he sees a nice, juicy  a*s or plumpy breasts, he slows down, eyes fixated on her flesh.

Every guy does that, but he is different. 

Why? Again, i just know he is different. I can't explain this to you,  Sorry. 

People are strange and funny and perverted. And, i am worst of all, i judge.

15 minutes are up.  

"hey,  beautiful. " someone mildly called. And, Yes, i am beautiful.  

I am sorry, i forgot to tell you i am a young, beautiful !, valiant female of Asian origin. I was born 23 years, 9 months and 12 days ago in the city of Kathmandu, Nepal. 

Rest of my details are yet to be divulged. Hold on, i will tell you all of my secrets, but not now. 

"Yes",  i replied to the ugly, middle aged  guy on the driver seat of Mercedes Benz. 

"where to? ", he replied to  the elegant, sexy women of 23 years, 9 months and 12 days. 

" obviously, to my place. "

28 minutes later.

My place. 

A women of 23 living alone in the outskirts of kathmandu Valley, owning a bungalow and riding Mercedes Benz GLA 200 CDI. 

Eminently extravagant, lavish she is. 

In the mailbox , i saw  a letter waiting for me. I was so sure i am getting one because of the metaphor "place". 

Who has mailbox thesedays? But, i am different. 

I signaled my ugly, middleage driver, helper to park my Benz and  prepare my evening. 

Sender :Unknown. 

Receiver : women of 23.

Title : Defile the immaculate one. 

Content :

It concerns me, sometimes we try to fetch something out of our reach. We commence to foist , deliberately we try to divulge the hidden,castled,deep rooted gloomy , twisted darkness, as if, we know the dungeon like our soul. 

contemptuous you are now,
Transcending from the grace of heaven , Gods only desire was to treat you like the only child who never sinned.
Falling you are now,
Down to the dungeon,lost you are,met the mischievous prince of darkness.

you bow, you cry, you intone the chants of dungeon-defile the immaculate one, 

Defile the immaculate one. 

the unsullied one sold his soul !
who is there to buy?
maleficent you are,
save the unsullied one,
cast your spell !
wizards,shine the ample lights,
spacious!
still,
serpent i am.

His foisted beginning is just a ruse.

End. 

What the hell? Only "man behind the curtain" calls me "women of 23",but what is this? What does this allegory refer to? 

Has he gone insane? 

It is already 6 in the evening and it's time for my ritual . I have no time for this bullshit. Also, he never talks metaphorically, at least in a letter. Why is he doing this? 

I opened my entrance door and let myself in. I can't  let you know my exact address and i can't  tell you about the orientation of my house too. Why? Obviously for the purpose of security. I am high profile, mischievous little person under the radar  of few, but powerful ones. 

Inside my bedroom. 

My bedroom is obviously a spacious one with queen size bed, in the middle inundated by white, plain sheet but no pillows. I don't  like them. 

Up on the ceiling,is image of Mt. Machhapuchre, mounted. There is a mat on the floor slightly aligned towards eastern side, where i sit,  my legs folded just like in Buddha's posture and stare into the void. 

There is nothing peculiar and extravagant about inner architecture of my bedroom or my house. 

My lush is just a foisted envelope to hide my crude self. And bedroom is mine not theirs to see, here i am extricable from the eyes of "powerful ones" . 

I just use 3 rooms of my bungalow,  my own bedroom, one kitchen cum bedroom for my helper, driver and one capacious general room. 

I will come to my capacious General room later. 

My ritual, i am what i am because of it. I sit in my bedroom mat, completely  devoured in the mystical chants of heaven. There is no tabla, sitar, jhyamta,violin, just the sound of sterling  nature  in G major like the sound of cuckoo. The sound of cuckoo is used in classics of Beethoven, Delius, Handel.  Sometimes, i listen to them too when i am riding my benz. My ritual lasts for a complete 18 minutes. 

Then, i lay down facing up and meditate watching Mt. Machhapuchre for 25 minutes. 

I call it "sadhana. " 

*************

I have been called a prostitute, a w***e and much worse. And yes, i let a lot of males devour me, actively participating in the act of fornication. 

I have never been loved by a man but I have been fucked by a lot. 

For some people out there, My flesh is analogues to an English word "mortification",  i am  their dazzling  source of embarrassment. 

Obviously i am, how would  you feel when you get to hear, "your daughter is a w***e on a national television". 

For the  world out there, yes, i am a prized w***e. 

But, 

For the  world of "The man behind the curtain", i am a clairvoyant, analogues to the God of kaliyug. 

The unsullied one.