A Man among Wolves

Chapter 10

It was almost evening by the time he reached home.

It was raining outside.

Selva sat near the doorstep of his house and looked outside. There was a rumbling in his stomach but he knew it wasn't hunger, although he hadn't eaten anything since the previous night. He observed the rain become heavier and heavier. It had started with a slight drizzle that couldn't be noticed unless a droplet landed on the face. Now, it was almost a thunderstorm.

There was nobody on the street. Not even strays.

Selva wanted to sleep. His eyes felt like they had been stretched painfully for a long time, as if someone had kept them pried open with kitchen tongs. They were watery.

But he couldn't sleep. He had lain down flat on the floor and closed his eyes, the first thing after coming home. He had remained like that for several minutes. Yet, sleep would not come. He remembered a time when he had attended someone's marriage and he had accidentally sat down next to a loudspeaker. The classical music emanating from it was so loud that it was impossible to even think about anything. It was a sound loud enough to dull your brain and drown your thoughts. His current situation appeared to be similar. The only difference was there was no external sound near him.

But that was before the rain had started. Then, Selva got up and seated himself near the doorstep, watching the downpour.

His headache hadn't abated a bit. A dull throb which occurred in a weird rhythm with his heartbeat. Both of them were painfully louder than the rain outside.

He started rocking at his place, hands clasped in front of him. His lips yearned for a cigarette. He rocked harder now. The urge to walk to a nearby shop and buy a pack was becoming physically unbearable.

Selva felt a sudden aversion at himself for falling back into his cigarette addiction. He knew what he was doing when he popped the first one in his mouth. Then, he had slid down the slippery slope. As he knew very well, cigarettes have a way of dispelling the internal discomfort but not when you smoke six in a row. Then, they have the exact opposite effect.

Selva stood up and paced about the room. For some reason, he made a mental note to reach all four corners of the room in his stride, and never exclude any one of them.

Suddenly, as if triggered by his sudden movement, his mind teleported to a different line of thought.

Did he do the right thing? Of course, he did not. He should have shot that person. Whoever he was. With a slight jolt of memory, Selva remembered that he was a journalist of some sort. Otherwise, everything else was difficult to recollect. He also wondered if he still remembered the man's eyes. Yes, he found that he did. Quite strongly. But many other details were slipping out from him.

Yes, he should have shot him. Balaji Rangan, his name was. He should have shot him. That would have been the best route to take. It was the simplest and safest decision he could have made, but he hadn't. Because he had been stupid. He had instead chosen to step on Agilan's toes, which alone could be very costly. In addition, he had lied to his face!

As he paced the room, Selva could see his stupidity pile up on top of another, like folded clothes.

He needed a cigarette!

Without another thought, Selva directly walked out of the house and into the rain.