Man o’ Raugnalia

Hello.
I understand, we are supposed to introduce ourselves here.
I am Dev and this is my wife Priya.
From the city of Santa Marta, California.
I know, it seems a bit odd.
But, I swear to God.
I am Mohan and this is Siya.
From the city of Palmyra, Syria.

I have a beautiful home here.
White walls.
White fan.
White sheets.
White people.
But, the men in white coats.
They pretend to be white.
I hate them.
They lie to me.
They strap me to the chair.
They say it won’t hurt.
But, it does.
I hate them.
Hate the name too.
It said something along the lines of ‘man of rugnalia.’
I don’t know who that is.
Correction; I hate my home here.

I definitely liked it back there.
In the city of Palmyra.
My city of palms.
A city like my mother’s Almirah.
Organized.
Colourful.
Vibrant and
The safest place in the world.
Safer from the white ghosts.
That’s what they called the foreigners.
That’s how they scared us of the foreigners.
But, one day a man gave me a piece of chocolate.
“The best kind, in the whole wide world.” he said.
And it was.
The best in the world.
Even though I hated the bitter aftertaste till a moment ago.
It was serene.
I was in a different world.
I did not feel anything.
Not even the pain I had afterwards,
in my anus.
My bleeding anus.
Until I did.

Lucknow, India is the place where I met my wife, Jia.
Say hello everyone.
The love of my life.
The butter to my knife.
The queen of the hive.

She asked to me once upon a time,
“O’ my sweet, innocent, Unicorn-ish, gullible love,
would you do me a favour on the drop of a dime?”
“Aye” said I with fervour.
“Would you buy me diamonds?”
And I did.
“Would you cook me a delicious supper?”
And I did.
“Would you profess your love at top of your voice?”
And I did.
“Would you dance around naked?”
And I did.
Until I realized that she made me.
And even tried to evade me.
“You are so gullible, John”, said she,
and burst into laughter again.
And I ran for her again.
But, I caught her then.
Both of us were naked in the bullpen.
Thus, I acquired my keys to heaven.

And then, 73 days later, on an afternoon.
I was hopping-and-scotching around like a goon.
It was the day, I was going to propose to Mia.
Well, at least it was supposed to be the one.
73 days, 5 hours, 23 minutes and 151 rehearsals later
I went back to her place.
Like everyday.
Put the keys in the door.
One rehearsal. One more.
Went inside and saw her.
73 days, 5 hours, 25 minutes and 152 rehearsals later
I was left speechless. I freakin’ love her.
She knew I was going to come, like everyday.
She also knew that it’s going to be special today.
She was dressed accordingly.
Not as shabbily.
I took a step forward, trying to avoid the blood red on her lips.
I took a step forward, to notice the rope around her hips.
Oh, wait.
The following was of blur to me but,
there was a headache then darkness, I guarantee.
A figure appeared from behind of me.
Then two
and three.
They tore her gown in two equal pieces.
“One for you and one for the missus.”
I was held by two. She was undraped by the third.
Took his own time, that turd.
The bitch was charred by a hounds’ herd.

73 days, 7 hours, 12 minutes, 152 rehearsals and a rape later
my head regained its place.
Things were starting to run at normal pace.
My heartbeat was slowing down.
There was blood all around.
Three dead bodies and blood soaked gown.
A fainting bitch and mauled hounds.
I ran for her, faster and faster.
Then I saw her. There was nothing left to muster.
“Would you do me favour o’ love mine?” said she, through her blood reds..
“Aye.”, said I, bobbing my bleeding head.
“Would you dance for me one more time?”
And I was bouncing again, one last time.
I saw the same sparkle I gained earlier.
God spoke to me via the happiness courier.
And bang! said the lady.
The one in her hand.
It attracted the neighbors and the police band.
I didn’t notice them I was busy bouncing for her.
She was still smiling.
My dear Jennifer.

I woke up, next day, in my new home,
chained to the bed
wires around my head.
A switch was flicked and I thought I was dead.
Then I saw her eyes and found my home.
Supriya was with me and with the same aplomb.

Through all the pain.
All the suffering.
When I saw the devil, and his offspring.
Or deja vu, when he came back hurting.
In all these years, when we stayed here.
We thought no one was there.
We thought no one really cared.
You listened to us.
You cared, as such.
Thank you very much.
-This is Dev and Supriya from the Man of Rugnalia.

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