The Blank "Face" (Part III - Last)

“The Bar is closed, Sir. You can come tomorrow.” As I saw, the bouncer was dealing with two thin men wearing absurd cloth.
“Move your ass, dude. You don’t mess with the junkies. Do we look like we are taking a permit?”
“Vanish, you bloody bastards.” The bouncer pushed them as they fell to the ground.
“What the…”
The messy guy took out a sharp tiny object and pricked it on the bouncer’s eye. The fat guy went down in a second. But the messy guy didn’t stop pricking his needle in the bouncer’s body. In a minute the bouncer was on the ground crying in pain. Both of Junkies paced away hurriedly.
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It has been seven days I am in this cell. It stinks like rotten egg. Light touching the walls from a small opening of the top of the right wall. Every day when the light shimmers on the walls, they enter, tie me like dogs and take me to the torcher cell. I don’t know for how long it continues, because after few minutes, I lose my conscious and the pain overtakes my body and mind. Why? I don’t know exactly.

“Accept. Accept that you are responsible for the murder.”
“I …… I told you officer….. that I didn’t do any such act. I am innocent”
“Listen guy, I know you did it. I have got enough evidences and witnesses to prove you guilty in court. Now it will be intelligent for you to accept it to save you from further torture.”
“What are your profits in this whole process?”
“Whaaaaatttt????”
“I asked…… What are your profits in this process? I am sure they have given you a hefty amount to prove my guilt?”
The police officer didn’t say anything for few moments. Then he took out a sharp needle from his pockets and jammed it in the open wound on my neck.
“Listen you smart kid, Aevinas Maelhottra. I have worked for twenty fucking years within these corridors. And I know some pretty nice ways to prove what I am supposed to. And I will make it sure you don’t leave these walls for the next coming years.” Saying this the officer walked away through the door. I was taken back to my enclosure.
For three days, I was beaten. Hanged naked from a roof, baseball bats and sticks were thumped on me for hours. Then they packed me naked in my enclosure with salt all over the floor. I don’t even remember the last days of my torture. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sleep properly in my cell. My body laid there like a lifeless zombie.

“Sign it here.”
“Don’t you know his fingers are broken you fool? Take a thumb impression of his right hand.”
I was already in my subconscious mind. My brain went through some series of shock treatments just before the signing.
“Here sir, please give a thumb impression.”
“You foolish chaps. Who gave you an entry in this Department?”
The officer straight came towards me and lifted my right hand. Then took a thumb impression on the paper. I couldn’t resist because my body already stopped responding to the nervous system many days before. They threw me back in my chamber, with my clothes on. Maybe their job was done. There was no court case afterwards. The case was closed. Next mornings, I was taken from my cell and cleaned with a hose pipe. Food was given twice a day. And there was no other sound in that big cell, no movement, just the high walls and light striking the roof for few hours. I used to think, what happened that day and why did it happen. What went wrong between me and my cousin. I remembered my mother, my sweet mother and my father. I missed the days I was free and talked with my friends. I missed the sunlight and the dark chocolates. I missed everything. But as time passed, the thinking was ceased too.
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Violent, that what came in my mind when I saw this act. I couldn’t watch the whole incident and started walking on the other side of the road. The people were screaming and crying out loud nearby. But I saw something which astonished me completely.
A guy was standing below the street lamp in a brown overcoat. He was wearing his hat but still a light was illuminating his face. He was not looking a native European but his complexion was too whit to deny that. What stunned me was his immovable face. He was completely lifeless, his expressions completely blank. He was witnessing this incident with absolutely no emotions.
The screams continued but this guy walked after few moments, as if the show of the night was over.
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I entered today with a tired look in my eyes but ready to rock and free my body from all the tiredness of the week. I went straight to the bartender and took my favourite drink as a starter. A mix of vodka and breezer with a tinge of lemon juice. Refreshing it was, when I saw the same figure of that night sitting beside me.
“Hi! Aren’t you the same guy outside this club last Friday?”
The guy gave me a stern look convincing me that he is not ready to talk with strangers. But still, I continued as my eagerness was increasing for this person.
“Hi, I am Sandeep. You can call me Sandy. I am here for a project assigned by my company.”
“You an Indian?”
“Yes. Of Course.”
I don’t know whether my origin helped him to demystify the distance between our communication. But that night, I actually saw his blank face opening up showing some expressions I suspected of. I don’t know how much time passed talking to this guy, but when we completed, it was six in the morning and the guy took a leave from me.

“Excuse me. I actually didn’t ask your name.”
“Avinash Malhotra.”