The Unventured Passions

The Brotherhood Code

After the long cold agony stricken night in Calcutta, the daybreak had brought a little glimmer of warmth. And, bathed in that warmth of hope, Anirudh Roy Chowdhury got down from the pulley rickshaw infront of the guarded large iron gate, sheathing the red bricked two storey police banglow.

"I want to meet the officer." He demanded at the gate, and the newly posted Indian guard with a rusty shotgun looked at him disinterestedly.

"Why?" He asked in a bihari accent, and Anirudh stretched his eyes past him, trying to look through the iron grills.

"It's of personal nature. Tell him his friend from school has come to see him." He spoke politely, and the guard eyed him from head to toe once. Anirudh looked messy, inebriated, yet his magestic features stood out significantly.

"He's sleeping. He's wounded." The guard replied.

"Fine. I'll wait." Anirudh folded his arms and replied plainly, giving him clear indications about his resolved intention.

And, realising the futility of his denial, the guard finally made an irritated tsk sound and walked inside to inform his master.

"My friend from school, is it?"
In no time, came a sarcastic chuckle from afar, stressing on the word friend, and looking up Anirudh saw Paul Davidson on the first floor balcony of the banglow, his body sheathed in a shawl, yet the darkened bruise on his cheekbone was prominent enough to make Anirudh frown at once.
"Come inside... Friend", he beckoned him with a ironical curve on his lips, and the guard hurried outside, holding the gate open for the attendee to enter.

Anirudh smiled politely at him and walked inside.

"So?" Paul Davidson was clearly straining to climb down the stairs that led directly to the modest open drawing area, and Anirudh stood infront, with a questioning gaze.
"So what brings the mighty Barrister back to this 'cramped suffocating prison'? Isn't that how you described this place to my senior?"
He raised an eyebrow at him, and Anirudh saw the sharp cut right above his temple.

"I need some answers Paul." His voice was calm, a sharp contrast of the hurricane of questions that were swirling inside his mind.

"And why might I answer you again?" Paul staggered and stood right infront of him, proud and tall, and his eyes narrowed down at Anirudh's sleepless face.
"Infact... Why might I welcome you in? After what you did to me? That long nasty letter from my commanding officer that I had kept you quarantined here against your wish!" He huffed the words and looked away.
"You know what it costed me?"

"I don't." Anirudh responded with the same calmness, his compassionate eyes exploring the wounds on Paul's face, and Paul looked up at him with questions.

"Why are you here?" He asked, and Anirudh raised his hand and placed it on his left shoulder gently.

"I'm here to see my old friend, the one whom I once trusted, the one whom I had spent many summers of my life... And, right now I'm in need of my friend."

The words made Paul frown, his expression mellowed a little and Anirudh let out a soft exhale and moved a few steps away, the steps that clearly showed how he dragged himself unsteadily.

"Have you been drinking?" Paul asked, but Anirudh just smirked at his question, throwing one at him in return.

"Do you have bourbon?"

"Just Scotch!" Paul replied, his voice too had seamed down to a softer tone of concern, as he too followed Anirudh towards the small liquor celler by the wall.

"Scotch would do." Anirudh chuckled, and with gentle swiftness he brought down two glasses, half filling them with the golden intoxicant at once.
Paul was looking at the glasses, and then at the man standing infront, the faint dark circles under his eyes, the hint of stubble on his chiseled jawline and his slightly messy hair gave clear indications of his troubled state.