The Race

Piyali returned home drenched in the rain. It was about 11.45 p.m. Her friends had forced her to throw a party as she received a SMS congratulating her on being the first runner-up in an All India poetry contest. The excess shots of tequila didn’t give her the strength to even change.

It was 9 a.m. the next morning when she woke up. The hangover, the half wet dress and the need for that addictive cup of black coffee forced her to get up ‘early’ on the Sunday morning. Before having a wash, she wanted to change into a fresh nightie.

Memories took her a year back ……… Piyali and Sujoy had returned from a late night party. Very fond of tequila shots, she had had one shot too many. It was raining cats and dogs that night too. Both were drenched and Sujoy unlocked the door of the studio apartment they were sharing. No, not a live in type of stay. They stayed together but, never ‘slept’ together. Piyali was too drunk to even talk, let alone having a change. But, she had woken up in a night gown!

The water was boiling in the coffee maker. “Oh me and my wandering thoughts” she murmured and made her a cup of coffee. She opened her laptop and logged on to her Facebook account. Congratulatory messages flooded her timeline. She was curious to know who was the winner. She searched and searched and finally she was able to locate the published result. “How can this happen?” she shouted in anger. “How could he be the winner?” . Sujoy Das Gupta – the name kept hurting her because he always scribbled some silly stuff and called it poetry and won. Only his stupid friends kept ‘applauding’ him. “ I have about 50 poems of mine, published in various anthologies around the world, and this moron defeats me?”

He had left the city without telling her, six months ago. He had deactivated his Facebook account also. She frantically tried to get in touch with him. A week later, she succeeded in getting his cellphone number. The lady voice at the other end said “this is Meghna Hospital, what can I do for you?” Piyali was at her wit’s end now. She shouted back “are you Sujoy’s wife or girlfriend?”. The lady “Oh, so the patient’s name is Sujoy? Sujoy what? By the way I am the duty nurse Rajeshwari and Sujoy was moved into our hospital this morning by his neighbours.” “Just tell me where the hell is this Meghna Hospital? And I need to talk to Sujoy Das Gupta.” “Madam, this hospital is on 7^th Cross, Malleswaram.”

“Bloody cheat” Piyali uttered with clenched jaws. “He didn’t pay rent for six months  and how dare he changed my clothes that night?”. Next morning she drove to the hospital to get hold of  this ‘son of a dog’. When she enquired at the reception, she had another surprise. “Madam are you Piyali Sengupta? I am sorry to say that Sujoy breathed his last at 4.30 a.m. today. He was admitted for a severe bout of pneumonia. He had zero immunity. He had contracted  Acqiured Immunity Defficiency Syndrome. He has left  a letter for you”.

“Dear Piyali,

I know you must be angry with me. I won’t explain anything. You have been such a sweetheart, but always hating my poetry. Hahaha. That night you were fully wet and I had to put you to bed only after giving you the change. I could not resist you. I was too weak to avoid looking at your voluptuous body. That was the most beautiful sight I ever beheld. I neither made any effort to stop myself. I am sorry. I love you. Would you want to marry a sick man? You know, I have been tested positive for HIV. I want to spend my remaining life with you. That's my only wish.

Yours

Sujoy”

Piyali fell on her knees and wept inconsolably. “You dirty creep, you should have known that I am HIV positive. How could you defeat me at poetry? How could you defeat me in the race to death? How could you, you heartless animal?”