Z for Zemrën

This is a guest post by Megha. You might remember her from “Bajji Sojji” and she does not disappoint in this post. Go here to read my guest post on her blog. 

It was the sixth time her phone was ringing that evening. She had ignored that call, from that particular number five times. She didn’t want to attend it. She knew who it was from. It was from her ‘client’.

Apparently, she worked as an escort which was an identity she kept hidden. She had to support herself in the big city and borrowing money was out of question. She had dreams to fulfill and goals to achieve. This was the job that bridged the gap between the means and the ends.

She hand-picked her clients,mostly foreigners, who were visiting India for business. Her fluent French and Dutch made her a suave and an elegant escort. This client was one such gentleman, from Albania.

She was in no mood to entertain him that night and he seemed persistent. Finally she decided to get dressed and show up and get done with it.

It was not the money or the behaviour of the guy, that was making her wary, it was the guy himself. It’s been about five months now and she was beginning to see things differently.

She began noticing how touchy she becomes when he spoke about his travels and his other mistresses. She had begun learning his language and also bits and pieces of his culture. She had begun to imagine a future with him. The gap of almost 35 years didn’t seem to bother her.

She reached the hotel and walked into the restaurant, where they usually started their date. He arrived at the said time and sat across her, for want of clear view.
Amidst loud guffaws and interesting stories, he blurted out this, ‘ Ta ha zemrën’. She knew what it was and how romantic a phrase that was in his language. She didn’t know if he had said that knowingly or if it slipped his tongue, without his knowledge. All that she knew was he had just sweet-talked to her.

Of all the phrases in the world, why would he choose this particular one, which loosely translated to ‘I want to eat your heart’?? Was he smitten too, just like her or was he playing along, enjoying his score even at this ripe age? Lots remained to be seen.

All that mattered to her then was her future. What the ensuing night held for her, would be a secret that only they both will ever know.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s