The whole building could hear what he was saying; rather, the whole building could hear his death threats, scoldings and insults. But Ruchita just carried on, checking if the water in the tub was warm enough, if the petals were giving the proper fragrance. She slowly slid her dress off and stepped into the tub. The warm water hurt her wounds but she was at peace. .
'A little more to your left.' She shifted her hips slightly, hoping the goosebumps on her skin were not showing. He would not use the photographs then. She wanted the shoot to get over soon.
'Perfect,' he said, his head popping out from behind the lens. 'That's a wrap.' He held out his hand to her. She stepped out of the bathtub. She could feel his gaze on her. She dressed faster.
He moved closer to her. 'Hurry up, please. I need to pick my son from preschool,' he said, as he walked out..
I got into the bath and rested my head on the pillow and dozed off. Awhile later, I woke up feeling uneasy. I felt a burden on my chest. I wanted to get up but I felt somone's holding me back. I panicked and i grabbed the edge and mustered all my strength and got out.
I fell on the wet floor and looked back and I saw my body lay there lifeless.
Later they found high traces of bath salts which caused the cardiac arrest.
I wish I didn't force myself out of the tub and my body..
The first day for both the model and the artist. He liked it when someone would call him an artist. She always wanted to enter this creative industry. All the arrangements were done and now it was the time for execution. she entered the tub and was trying hard to pose by giving numerous facial expression of which she read and saw on the internet. He clicked many poses of her but something was missing. He tried and tested every angle when finally he came to know that entirety is not always an answer. .
The painting was perfect . The artist had just finished and named it " Those slender legs". Overwhelmed by his piece of art he decided to deliver it to the model himself. He was surprised he got an appointment with ease in spite of her usually busy schedule . There she was smiling at him exactly like she did a month ago when he met her, her body as perfect as the smile. The only difference was an accident had made those very legs just a memory now, he thought with a wavering mind..
Waiting for this day made her blush and planning for it made me cheerful, after all it was the only day when we could both celebrate as our day, instead of my day: "marriage anniversary". Everything was going perfect: getting flowers from the florist, buying gifts, handwritten greetings, an candlelight dinner at home, a surprise that I would be visiting her after long time. But destiny had planned something different. Instead of being in my arms, she was in another's arms, since she loved water. I laid her in peace in water. Of course, it's an anniversary but that of "Death"..
Don't wake her, I forbid you! Let her float undisturbed amidst the velvety cloud of dreams. Let the music flow and soothe her. Let the flowers caress and sponge her feet. Let the aroma waft along forever.
She needs it, I say. Life had utterly failed her. All she saw was pain, suffering and abuse. Let death recompense now. Let death awaken the inert musical genius in her. Let death envelop her with compassion and open the doors of little joys which life unfairly deprived her of.
Let her inner flower bloom. Not to ever wilt. Let her sleep....
“Meena...” she heard them calling her. It was Adil, oldest member of her group. But she didn’t move from her place. Fragrance and beauty of this room was not letting her leave. Water all around... it was dream world.
She was always fond of water... may be that’s why her name... Meena. But It’s dangerous here, she might be caught. It’s 3rd house they broke into this month. They were professional burglars... or whatever it means.
And then, the door opened. Mrs Malhotra was standing at the door of the bathroom.... seeing Meena in her bathtub....naked. .
Her mind a maze, her Kajal streaming down her face.
Miss Ann returned home as a bride. Once bride to a man of impeccable range and sublime character, but now a bride to betrayal and confused rage. Wounded. The room was decorated with flowers, rather flavours of emotions. Their first night would have been picturesque, making love amidst the hues of nature.
Ann had articulately decorated the room, keeping in mind the enthalpy she sought to bring to the room the coming night.
But now she rips the room apart and slips into her bath, caressing her wounded contours..